Thrice are all grown up as they bring the ‘Horizons/West’ tour to Manchester, joined by fellow post-hardcore kids Lysistrata.

Few bands have had the journey Thrice has had, a high-school project accidentally spawned into a full-on career. Even the name wasn’t meant to stick, hastily slapped on for a gig after a friend’s success in Frogger. Unlucky for them, people liked them, so the name had to stay.

But that’s not to say Thrice’s success has been a series of fortunate incidents; in fact, quite the opposite. Over the span of their almost 30-year career, the band have worked tirelessly, consistently building on their sound to expand the universe of Thrice, so the band grew as audiences did. The kids who found solace in the fieriness and urgency of Thrice’s earlier outputs matured as the music did, soundtracking their audience from adolescence to adulthood. 

And now we are here, on the tour of ‘Horizons/West’, a further exploration of previous album ‘Horizons/East’. The sonic universe of Thrice is detailed; an album is not a collection of songs but a world of its own, and the world of ‘Horizons’ is an apocalyptic one, a dwelling on post-modern times and the fear that comes with it. The ferocity of their beginnings has been sanded, softened into curves of introspection that dwell and brood, but peek through the dark mass, and there is a resounding light running through, shining in the dark. 

The night is opened early with Lysistrata, a band recalling back to the early days of post-hardcore and noise rock.  The three-piece crowd around the drum kit of drummer and vocalist Ben Amos Cooper, more like a basement show as opposed to a bustling 1500-capacity O2 Ritz. In baggy jeans and sweeping hair, the band harks back to a time before them, of bands like Thursday and At the Drive In. It’s their first time in Manchester, and their tracks sprawl, swelling and escalating into every crevice. They are confident, with tracks sending you downhill with no warning before lulling to a false sense of security, hurtling into one final spiral whilst siren-like guitar wails. 

At the barricade, emos of all kinds line up, from elders with strategically placed beanies to teenagers younger than Thrice’s career. There is a sweet moment as two sets of eyes peep over the barricade, only just able to say, flanked by protective parents who lean over them protectively in the likely event of a mosh pit. It’s a special moment, music from parents’ adolescence passed down to their children.

Family is a thread that runs through Thrice; brothers Riley (drums) and Eddie Breckenridge(bass) settle into their positions as vocalist Dustin Kensrue slings on his guitar. They rifle through their overspilling discography, strong and tight, talent honed from years of diligent touring. Kensrue is vocally impressive, a titanic voice that floats on each note with an edge of grit, at some points breeding into a full growl that reminds one of Thrice’s advent. 

They blister through, dipping in and out of various albums. ‘Stare into the Sun’ showcases their fun side, with an infectious bridge, whilst the clunky bass of ‘The Window’ offers a dance beat, with a breakdown made for the headbangers in the room. After ‘Black Honey’, a 2016 MTV Rocks gem, people start to clamber onto each other’s shoulders, only to be ushered down by frantic security. 

There’s a lyric in ‘The Sky is Falling’ – “My little girl is just a baby // And I'm scared that she won't make her teens”. As fathers now, the state of today is heavy on the band’s mind, a theme running through ‘Horizons/West’. But watching Thrice, there’s a comfort: they may not be able to settle all the issues in the world, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to sit back and watch. Every album since the first EP has included a charitable donation to various organisations; the community aspect of hardcore is still strong, even if it may not be as prevalent in the music. Yes, the world may be seemingly imploding, but amongst all the chaos, there is joy: in community, in music, in hugging a stranger after slamming into them in the pit. Watching Thrice, there is joy, not just for one night only, but in the music and memories that are made with it.