Let's flash back to the summer. Westin Glass is sitting in his downstairs neighbors' apartment. He pops in The Thermals' forthcoming release, 'Personal Life,' and awaits their feedback. Perhaps Glass skips around, touching on crunchy AltPop tracks, and perhaps he mentions that Chris Walla of Death Cab for Cutie produced the record. "Well, you're a better drummer than that, right," the neighbors ask.
The Thermals are special. The drunken, rowdy crowds make up their own words and riffs in songs. While Harris says he's all about crowds inventing parts, he adds, "I'd like it not to be anything too premeditated. It's better if people just get drunk and run into each other and sweat a lot and fall on the floor." The Thermals play Mayday on Thursday with Cymbals Eat Guitars.
Holy guacamole, it's another banner week. To expedite this week's column, I've shunted a handful of titles to next week just to give myself a little breathing room. As my design prof used to say, when you're up to your ass in alligators it's difficult to remember that your objective was to drain the swamp.