Honestly, we all should have seen this coming from Thursday.  They’ve been dropping hints of a more atmospheric and textured sound in their records over the past five years (A City By The Light Divided, their split EP with Envy, and Common Existence).  So anyone who is saying that their new album, No Devolución, is a new beginning or rebirth for the band just haven’t been paying attention.  The common Thursday traits are still present: Geoff Rickly’s not-perfect-yet-so-perfect croon, distorted guitars, thick instrumentation, and, of course, Rickly’s realistic and cathartic lyrics.  What’s different is that No Devolución isn’t as abrasive as Thursday albums past, rather it’s soaked in luscious, experimental tones and dark melodies.

Beautiful, echoing, ethereal guitar begins to filter through your speakers, slowing fading into your consciousness. A man with a slightly nasal voice, most likely in his early 20s, starts to sing something about a robot, and whether it dreams. After about thirty seconds of this repeating, with one final “Wonder what it dreams?,” everything disappears save feedback from the guitar. And then, almost out of nowhere…”Bap, bap!” The band springs into action with two hits of the snare. Guitarists Tom Keeley and Steve Pedulla’s parts twist, churn and intertwine as drummer Tucker Rule keeps a sort of off-tempo beat that leads into a drum role. Bassist Tim Payne remains a driving force, mostly following the guitar, but adding a necessary emphasis to the bottom part of the song. Then Geoff Rickly–for that is the name of the nasally man in his early 20s–begins to sing again: “Splintered piece of glass / Falls on the seat and gets caught / Broken windows, open locks / Reminders of the youth we lost / In trying so hard to look away from you / I followed white lines ’till the sunset / I crash my car every day the same way.” The song is “Understanding in a Car Crash.” The band is Thursday. The album is Full Collapse. The year is 2001. And something great is happening here.

The critical and fan reception to Thursday’s 2006 release, A City By The Light Divided, were, at best, lukewarm. It caused a divide among fans; either you loved it or you hated it. There was no middle ground. City took on a more experimental route with Thursday’s signature sound still woven in. Some complain about the tone of the album, most complained about the production of Dave Fridmann (I personally love it). So when the Jersey sextet announced that Fridmann would be producing the band’s Epitaph debut, Common Existence, fans were naturally wary. 

In 1992, the defending AFC Champion Buffalo Bills faced the Houston Oilers in the AFC Wild Card round. The first half of this game was a disaster for the Bills. Jim Kelly out with an injury and the Oilers dominated going into halftime with a 28-3 lead. Dejected, the Bills didn’t have a lot of time to make changes, but they realized they were the defending champs and needed to live up to that. The second half featured a completely different team, as backup quarterback Frank Reich threw 4 touchdowns to bring the game into overtime, which the Bills eventually won 41-38, making it one of the greatest comebacks in NFL history. I’m sure by now all of you are confused as to why I began the review with such a story, but it is a great way to describe Thursday’s second major label album (and fourth overall), A City By The Light Divided.