w/the Bangs, the Cinch, the Catch
Thurs Sept 26, Crocodile, $6

Five minutes into my interview with the Thermals' Hutch Harris, his cell phone rings. After staring at the screen for a second, he comments, "Well, it's either Sub Pop or my mom; those are the only people who call me with blocked caller ID."

For Portland's Thermals, there is a certain level of irony in the fact that after all their years of toiling in various other bands, these four musicians have stumbled onto success without really trying. Harris and bassist Kathy Foster make up the twee-pop duo Hutch & Kathy, drummer Jordan Hudson anchors the instrumental band Operacycle, and guitarist Ben Barnett is the lone full-time member of Kind of Like Spitting; the Thermals' lineup is a longtime indie-rock all-star band, with no real stars to speak of (at least not outside Portland's 503 area code). But the Thermals have only played six shows. After their first Seattle performance, Sub Pop approached them; now, negotiations for their first Sub Pop release are in the works.

While the end result of their music is nothing short of revolutionary--between Barnett's fuzzed-out guitar hooks and Harris' youthful howl, they sound like a Guided by Voices for the kiddie set, combining lo-fi charm with a rare sort of punk rock urgency--the concept behind the Thermals is simple. Four musicians in an already-incestuous music scene decide to play music together under the pretense of, well, nothing. No goals, no long-term recording plans, no U.S. tours--just a handful of songs and a dream to be "the best band ever that never existed," according to Harris.

They're the type of band that carries its own in a basement (as they did in their first performance, all of three months ago), onstage (their fourth performance), or in the garage of a coffee shop (their most recent show). Beyond the piss-poor production quality and the reckless collision of various instruments on their demo, though, it's clear that they're a band with their fingers on the pulse of something grand. For all of us who missed the GBV boat when it sailed away years before we cracked open our first Budweiser, the Thermals represent our newfound four-track heroes.