In an era of content slop, pseudo-art, and AI, Thank God For Science is a breath of fresh air — proof that there are still art-weirdos out there who value creativity over commercial appeal. To me, Thank God For Science is an aesthetic-first, audience-second band — something that might sound negative but is actually their greatest strength. In short, they’ve got authenticity. They care more about their craft than about how it’s received (they’re certainly not making pop music). The result is a genuinely challenging, fascinating, and refreshingly unpredictable listening experience.
When I listen to Thank God For Science, I often find myself caught off guard — in the groove of a jazzy progression when, suddenly, a xylophone or twangy ranch guitar bursts in. What should clash somehow blends into something mesmerizing and, honestly, mind-blowing.
According to their website, Thank God For Science began when Jeremy Moses Curtis (Booker T, Jeffrey Foucault) turned years of home demos into the instrumental album Volume One with producer Marc Pinansky. The core band — drummer Peter MacLean (Maceo Parker), keyboardist James Rohr (The Blue Ribbons), and guitarist Mike Castellana — recorded the tracks over a weekend, later joined by Laurence Scudder (Brothers McCann) on viola and Barry Rothman (Radio Swan) on turntables and effects.
I liken Thank God For Science to artists like Elvis Costello and David Bowie — musicians whose choices may puzzle you at first but reveal their brilliance over time. On early listens, I wondered why Costello or Bowie (and Thank God For Science, for that matter) made certain sonic decisions, thinking smoother or more conventional choices/lyrics might “work” better. But with each replay, I found clarity — realizing they knew exactly what they were doing all along, finding that maybe they knew better than I all along. Who would have known?
And what a pleasure that is — a pleasure you can find in novels, music, or any art — when the creator is smarter than you, and you can just let go, trusting them to take you on a ride because you trust their intellect and skill. What a rare and amazing thing. Thank God For Science has such skill.
To me, Thank God For Science has a rare ability to capture pure aesthetic. Their music doesn’t just sound good; it feels creative. A passion of mine is writing fiction, and music often sparks ideas when I’m crafting a story. And while listening to tracks like “I-O-Moon Blues,” I found my imagination firing off vivid, fantastical visions — worlds as genre-blending as the songs themselves: sci-fi westerns, grungy/folky cyberpunk ballads. I haven’t felt that kind of inspiration since the show Cowboy Bebop, the glorious anime mash-up of science fiction, westerns, noir, and a whole lotta jazz.
So many of Thank God For Science’s songs stand out, but a few deserve special mention. “Oldsmobuick” is a transcendent, prog-rock epic reminiscent of early Genesis. Their 2018 live album Live captures the energy of an experimental future jazz club — just listen to “Stop Sign.” “Once I Lifted You” carries a haunting, 90s-style grunginess that instantly recalls Massive Attack — a helluva compliment if you ask me.
Their latest single, “Hands on America,” is perhaps their most accessible release yet, but it still fuses western, folk, 90s, xylophone whimsy, and arthouse cool. It’s a farmy, jazz-tinged track with a drugged-out prog-rock vibe. I love it.
The standout for me, though, is “Jasper” — a somber, hypnotic piece that showcases Thank God For Science’s gift for pairing unconventional sounds. It blends ranch-style twang, 60s-style organ, and what I think is a violin or cello that sounds straight out of The Witcher 3 soundtrack (inspired by Polish folk metal band Percival). I couldn’t stop smiling, my jaw on the floor.
Despite their serious artistry, Thank God For Science never loses its sense of humor or seems to take itself too seriously. Their tongue-in-cheek track titles — “Ahoy Palloi!” and “Hookline and Sink Her” — add to the band’s charm and remind you they’re having fun, too.
I haven’t heard anything this sonically fresh and out-there since I first listened to Jet Age of Tomorrow’s tongue-in-cheek yet surprisingly deep album, God’s Poop or Clouds? In other reviews of TGFS, one word kept popping up: weird. And yes — they are a weird band. But what better praise could I give? In a world obsessed with sameness, they stand out as something truly original.
They’re fresh. They’re exciting. And every listen reveals something new. I’ll say it again: thank God for Thank God For Science.