Everything Thermals

Just about two years and three weeks after seeing the Thermals for the first time, I had my second chance last night at the High Noon. Sadly, this show didn't carry quite the same elation. First off, I'm not really into their new album that came out earlier this month, and I'm not sure I ever actually will be. It's a further departure from their low-fi snarky pop-punk first (I instantly loved and and that love has yet to fade 7 years later), and doesn't have quite the biting blatant social criticism that I enjoyed on The Body, The Blood, The Machine. Of course being the tie-in tour, they mostly payed songs off of Now We Can See, though they threw in a few favorites as well. Then there was the fact that when I bought More Parts Per Million back in college, the majority of the audience couldn't drive, let alone vote. Standing up near the stage between sets (Shaky Hands, "Portland's Most-Likeable Band," were good, if not rather forgettable), I saw a lot more black X's than wrist bands. And I overheard some wonderfully asinine conversations:

Dude- "So I think I'm gonna get a tattoo tomorrow."

Chick- "Oh Yeah? Cool. What?"

Dude- "Well, I was thinking like a lightbulb, that's broken, and smoking a cigarette, right here on my chest. But then I'm worried that, like, what if I'm out at a bar, and I meet a girl, and she comes home with me, and I take off my shirt, and she's like 'What is *that*?!'"

Chick- "Hmm. Yeah. I kind of want a tattoo, too. But like, I want a big one right here on my side, I just don't see the point of getting a tattoo if you're just going to get something little. But I'm not sure what I would get... I mean probably something that represents my Korean roots, but something American, too."

Dude- "How about a Korean snake holding an American flag."

So then the actual show started. The Thermals played well and sounded good, Hutch and Kathy were as cute as ever, but they lacked energy and enthusiasm. They moved from song to song with Hutch making occasional comments, dripping with insincerity, between- "Oh yeah, Kathy is always messing with me when I have solos, but it's OK. We have a lot of fun." or "Great mosh guys. First time anyone has ever moshed to that song. Probably because it's a ballad." Yes, there was "moshing". Everything started out calmly enough, and my place at the front, just behind a young photog seemed like a good one. Then, about 5 songs in, a crazy, 40-something dude in obsenely short cutoff jean shorts and a t-shirt sagging with sweat came spastically hopping his way from stage right to immediately next to me. He never stopped bouncing, he moved like a "crazy inflatable arm-flailing tube man" with legs. And the glamour punks loved it. That was my cue to head to the back. I still enjoyed shouting the final lines of "It's Trivia" and "No Culture Icons."