— by Ryan J. Downey
Complex rhythms, thrashing epics, technical wizardry — who do these guys think they are? The Steve Vai and Eddie Van Halen of emo metal?
"He is, [but] just him," Thrice frontman Dustin Kensrue says with a grin, pointing to the guy he's split guitar duties with for the past five years.
"No, no," protests Teppei Teranishi, who insists that the guitar-hero bit wasn't intentional. "My roots are definitely in metal. I grew up listening to Metallica and Pantera, so I guess it comes from that. But it's definitely not a conscious thing. It's [just] fun to play technical stuff and push yourself."
And it's apparently fun to push listeners too. Like the mathematically inclined Dillinger Escape Plan or the defunct Seattle group Botch — two bands who hail from the same underground hardcore network of kids, labels and bands — Thrice have become accustomed to people asking them about the specifics of their craft.
Their fans aren't just interested in why the Irvine, California, band decided to throw together Swedish death metal, '80s thrash, punk melody and emo-tinged earnestness. They want to know how they pull it off.
"Kids are always asking for [guitar tablature]," Kensrue sighed. "I never even learned to play [with] tabs, because I was never a guitar nerd. I always just tried to write stuff and sing. And we just never had time to [write tabs]."
The band — rounded out by the fraternal rhythm section of Riley and Eddie Breckenridge on drums and bass, respectively — is much more receptive to questions about its equipment.
"We're gear dorks," Riley said. "So if kids want to talk about that stuff, we're definitely into talking about that. And I know when we're on tour I'm always going up to other drummers and saying, 'How did you do that? Why do you do this?' or 'Tell me about your new snare.' "
It was similarly casual conversation that brought Thrice together in the first place. Dustin and Teppei were high school buddies who knew Eddie and Riley from the Orange County skateboarding scene. After discovering they shared a love of classic metal and melodic punk rock, they decided to start a band that reflected their mishmash of tastes. Their first EP, appropriately titled First Impressions, and debut album, Identity Crisis, won them local fans almost instantly.
Out on the road, Thrice's musical palette became even wider. Like a sponge, they soaked up any heavy music they came in contact with: the dark but poppy brood of Alkaline Trio, the spacey drive of Cave In, the passionate energy of Hot Water Music.
"The first tour we did was with all three of those bands," Eddie said. "They've all made a huge difference, especially live. We listen to all different types of music now, [and] that's what makes our sound. Like, I listen to jazz, and we all listen to Radiohead."
Released by Sub City — a punk label that donates a percentage of profits from each release to charity — last year's The Illusion of Safety raised the band's profile even higher, garnering enough attention to land a major-label deal.
Their new LP, The Artist in the Ambulance, has put Thrice in a unique position in a strange time for bands of their ilk. Plenty of outfits affiliated with the hardcore scene (Into Another and Sense Field, among others) have been unsuccessful in their attempts to crack the mainstream. But right now, bands like AFI, Hatebreed and the Ataris are selling records to more and more fans with their credibility seemingly intact.
"I think it's cool that radio and MTV are giving bands that are a little different than what was big a year ago a chance to break through and be heard," Riley said optimistically. "It's healthy for music."
 Check out the MTV You Hear It First Tour.
Check out the video premiere of Thrice's "All That's Left."
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