Thankology

‘Thankology’, the first full-length release from Thank, is a compilation gathering together the Leeds noise rock band's existing material. This encompasses two EPs - 2017’s ‘Sexghost Hellscape’ and 2019’s ‘Please’ - as well as ‘The Curse’, Thank’s side of a 2018 split single with the Newcastle-upon-Tyne trio Blóm. The compilation is a precursor to the band’s debut LP proper (release date TBC). Whether it’s the first or fiftieth time that you’ve heard these tracks, each of them still hits with incredible force. From the tightly-wound groove of opener ‘Taxidermist’ to the sheets of noise which swamp anthemic closing number ‘Two Hour Lunch’, ‘Thankology’ is a visceral and punishing experience. Although pieced together from three separate releases, ‘Thankology’ makes for a remarkably coherent record. Such consistency is testament to how Thank’s core mission has persisted down the years. Across the album we find basslines and synth loops oscillating wildly over unyielding drum grooves, the mixes often gasping for air amidst monolithic textural work. That said, it is also possible to chart an evolution in Thank’s sound across the ten tracks of ‘Thankology’. The record’s first half, taken up by ‘Sexghost Hellscape’, is grinding and lacerated, reaching fever-pitch in the doom-laden trudge of ‘Petrol Head’. While such qualities are also evident on the ‘Please’ tracks, the increased focus on electronics lends these a more rubbery feel - a track like ‘Think Less’ owes as much to Liquid Liquid’s no-wave disco as it does to, say, the confrontational noise rock of Daughters. Some “noise rock” bands merely doff their cap to the “noise” element of their sound, but at times Thank really do split things 50-50. Even at its most danceable - the limber swing of ‘Fragile Ego’ or the disco-in-hell barnstormer ‘Commemorative Coin’ - Thank’s music remains swamped by these great washes of abrasive sound. Furthermore, the clamour for chaos can bleed over into the other instrumentation - guitars mutate into choruses of car alarms as Freddy Vinehill-Cliffe’s vocals run the gauntlet from doomsaying muttering to pained exclamations. At times ‘Thankology’ becomes an exercise in extreme sound. On ‘No Respect For The Arts’ the band pulls up the drawbridge on a gargantuan disco-punk groove to leave Vinehill-Cliffe alone, desperately pleading for absolution as a piercing synth needles its way into your frontal cortex. These sing-speak vocal performances simultaneously knit the band together and also bring in a further element of chaos. Lyrics which take in everything from Catholic guilt to pure existential terror are delivered with self-lacerating vitriol and a wickedly bitter sense of humor - one cannot help but chuckle when, on ‘Punching Bag’, Vinehill-Cliffe offers the tantalising prospect that “Tonight, Matthew, I will shit in my own hands and clap”. Words by Fred Mikardo-Greaves