It must be lovely being The Thrills. They seem to exist in an alternate universe to the rest of us, a hazy, sun-dappled version of the past that never happened, as though in perpetual audition for one of those late 90s Levis adverts set in the 70s where all the kids dance in the street.
That weird, sunny stasis is in evidence on their appropriately named third LP Teenager, a collection of cheerily forgettable tunes about small-town crushes and runaway girlfriends that sounds almost exactly the same as their last two albums.
Again, though, these are teenage years filtered through nostalgia; the equivalent of an embarrassing forty-something uncle pinching your scowling cheek and grunting ‘Best years of your life, eh?’ Exuberant, innocent, sexless, and almost completely free of angst. Conor Deasy’s familiar vocals might occasionally strain with regret on the title track, but it’s never too long before sugary optimism reasserts itself.