Some bands shatter the glass to the limelight and bask in the glory, often changing the way they present themselves as a collective. Some bands like to spearhead their sound like a brand, instantly altering their look to fit in with the masses. This usually stamps out originality, enabling more of a fanbase but alienating the ones that were there from the beginning. Californian band Thrice has never forced their pride and has never gone with the flow; they’ve always been grounded and compassionate, creating records built up from the base, records that have inspired and generated a melancholic but entertaining balance.

And popularity is not always a good thing. Yes, it’s gratifying to some, but for a band as diverse as Thrice, it seems off-putting. Their music is as fundamental and as technical as other bands in their field, pushing the pendulum to the side where it all becomes perfect. Melody and well-crafted instrumentals are pivotal too, and Thrice knows how to design riveting tracks worthy of immense praise.

Thrice was assembled in 1998 by guitarist and vocalist Dustin Kensrue. Identity Crisis was their debut collection. Often cited as a raw affair, it showcased some engrossing songs and expert melodies. It was an album that kick-started Thrice’s push, but in 2003 they truly became a band to consider. That year, brought The Artist In The Ambulance into the musical spotlight, which in terms of art was an ultimate chronicle, a story-driven masterclass from a band that was seeing the musical landscape change.  

The Artist In The Ambulance blew open the channels of aggression and importance. Such a significant record for the times, such a brooding example of fine tuning and powerful lyricism, it redefined Thrice’s sound. Kensrue’s vocals were raw, his guitar lines were rough, his persona ragged around the edges, but he was the perfect frontman. And every song clicked and was fully charged, conveying loss and struggle, disintegrating dreams, and heartbreak.  

A hard listen, The Artist In The Ambulance wasn’t smooth or polished. It had that abrasive, raucous sound, which people expected. This sound was energetic and sincere though, and it challenged perceptions. It was explosive, memorable, unruly, like a dog that does not want to abide by its owner’s rules. And truth be told, it became a source of entertainment for the freaks and rock lovers, lost in their own worlds.

Every strand of the album had meaning, and it didn’t fall over into exaggerated territories or derail into pushing out hollowed lyricism. All songs were built to tell a story, to draw in listeners who may at some point berate this style.

“Under A Falling Moon” was a highlight. Kensrue sang with vigor and intent, laying down the bricks for the rest of the album, and those highly sought-after riffs were decisive. “Stare At The Sun” was a memorable and pivotal track. Slow at the beginning, it bloomed roughly, and the chorus was expertly driven. “The Artist In The Ambulance,” the title track, was the standout track that showed aggressiveness and emotion. It offered a story, a pulsating chorus and intricate percussion. “The Abolition Of Man” screamed into life. Kensrue bellowed out, and the precise guitar lines again flooded with importance. It was his last shot at love.

And The Artist In The Ambulance truly shined. At every point it excelled, and every track had value. It was only Thrice’s 3^rd album, but it was their most complex and significant LP.