cover

At first listen, you’d be hard pressed not to mix up Thick Paint with some sort of time-traveling crew of musicians assembled from bands of both the future and the past to set rock ‘n’ roll on a new trajectory toward greatness. Their songs are halfway between the new wave oddity of the ‘80s and some sort of psychedelic twang-rock that I can only hope hits the charts in the future.

The Omaha band’s debut album and possible hint at its interdimensional origins, “a perennial approach to free time,” was released on April 20 and encapsulates that sound in an elegantly produced, nine-track record. After starting as Graham Ulicny’s solo project in 2008, Thick Paint has traversed through different members and sounds before settling on its current lineup to assemble its first album and release it into the universe.

The first few plucked-out notes that form the quaint melody of the first track, “i knew it was you,” feature a peculiar-yet-enticing harmony that arises from a pair of wiggly tremolo guitar tones.

One of the most immediately mind-blowing parts of this album is the way frontman Ulicny and guitarist Ameen Wahba make their guitars interact. Rarely does either guitar stray away from playing leads, but the resulting sound is never messy and is always incredibly catchy. Bassist Sarah Bohling mediates the relationship between the guitars and the drums to tie each song together.

Ulicny’s crisp, howling voice is delivered with a caring bit of inflection that distinguishes his croons from anyone else and perfectly complements the clean, twinkly sound of his guitar. His lyrics are honest and straightforward, but still poetic and interesting. “i knew it was you” closes with a whispered chant of “the people are the places are the things that you call you.” This seems to sum up the feeling of interconnectedness among humans.

The tracks on the album regularly give the listener a space to get lost in riffs and reflect on the song. One of the most entrancing examples is carried along through the bassline of “meridian response.” The two-part riff and mirroring chord progression drive the song forward, as each part beckons for the return of the other. The resulting feel is hypnotic and entirely engrossing.

The sole saxophone solo that erupts out of the fifth track, “how did it happen?,” quickly turns the song into something straight out of a 1970s detective movie. It’s hard not to picture Ulicny, clad in a fedora and trenchcoat, trudging through a dark Omaha alleyway and not caring to avoid the puddles. He looks for clues, whispering to himself, “how did it happen?”

“A perennial approach to free time” stands out in Omaha, a city that carries a tradition of rather straightforward, guitar-driven indie rock acts. Thick Paint takes the guitar and contorts its sound in a way not many others have. The album has a transcendental feel that sweeps you away to another universe, but the songs still seem to be grounded in the River City.

The mid-tempo shuffle denoting the start of album closer “you and me” could lay the groundwork for a rather traditional jazz composition, but the jarring call-and-response guitar and bass parts that interrupt the groove quickly indicate that jazz is of little interest to Thick Paint. The mind-bending triplet rhythm and unnerving half-step chord progression make this track a compositional enigma that creates one of the band’s most innovative and beautiful songs.

A mosaic of interlocking guitar leads carries the listener to the album’s conclusion, where a sudden drop of the heavenly melody hits so abruptly it almost hurts, and leaves the listener yearning to go again.

“a perennial approach to free time” is a total triumph of an album. After spending some 11 years maturing and defining the project’s exact sound, Ulicny’s songs are all refined and executed to perfection. Whether they have traveled from the future or not, Ulicny and co. expertly blend together everything from atonal harmonies, glorious guitar riffs and double-time snare beats to make one powerful introduction to the present world.

culture@dailynebraskan.com