The Ants revel in imperfection

The Ants aren’t concerned with perfection. This is a point that the five members want to make clear as they spread out in drummer Sean McEniry’s Lawrence basement. Each of them grasps a can of Hamm’s and lights a cigarette. They celebrate the “warts” of the band, McEniry says.

Screen-printed and photocopied show posters — some dating back to the late 1980s — cover the basement’s walls and ceiling. It’s a little claustrophobic. Two couches suggest that they were inherited from a nutty great-aunt with questionable taste in design. But it’s a comfortable hangout, and the Ants spend quite a bit of time here. They practice at least twice weekly in the adjacent room, where the songs on the band’s latest full-length, Control Your Thoughts, were fleshed out.

Thoughts is not pristine and polished. The 11 rough tracks are thick with patches of tangled guitar chords (listen to the murky ending of “Convenience Store”) and lead singer and guitarist Chad Bryan’s punky, off-kilter singing. Keyboardist David Randall’s deft piano melodies give off Steely Dan vibes.

The Ants allow themselves room to wander throughout Thoughts, which makes for an enjoyable listen. It’s experimental rock and roll à la the early 1990s, and it makes sense.

“There’s an element of rock right now that’s a little too polished for my tastes,” McEniry says. “I kind of feel like what we’re doing is rock and roll, and it’s not supposed to be exactly perfect. When we went to record this album, we expected some hiccups in our own performance, and I think we went into it with an open mind toward that, toward accepting those moments.”

It’s that mentality that inspired the Ants’ approach on Thoughts : Do three takes of each song and then move on. This gives songs like “We All Gonna Die” a likable honesty and fragility. The album was recorded at Tiny Telephone Recording in San Francisco, and the band agrees that it felt right leaving the songs as they happened in the studio.

“I think it was just an acceptance of what it’s really like,” McEniry says. “We could have stayed right here in our basement and perfected the tracks, but why? When a NASCAR fan goes to the racetrack — and I’m not a NASCAR fan, but if I were to go to a racetrack, I don’t want to see the cars go in a perfect circle 500 times. I want to see a crash!”

McEniry pauses to laugh and take a drag of his cigarette before he continues: “I’m sorry, but that’s what makes it exciting. I don’t think this band is that scared of whatever imperfections might exist in the moment because they’re in the moment. The compositions are strong, and we rehearse a lot, but life messes things up, and I don’t think the Ants are a band that shies away from that.”

The Ants may not shy away from mistakes, but Thoughts is a far cry from the 2000 version of the band. Then, Bryan was living in California. Three of the other band members — McEniry, Randall and bassist Brad Nichols — didn’t come into the picture until 2007, after Bryan had returned to the area and settled in Overland Park. (Guitarist Craig Comstock has been with the band since October 2013.)

“When I started the project, it was almost like a farewell album to the Bay Area and all the musicians that I’d had the opportunity to get to know,” Bryan says. “That first album was very sparse by design, and as we’ve grown, we’ve become better at arranging material. In the past, I would have, like, a stream-of-consciousness group of songs, and I was too undisciplined to give in to learning how to arrange them.

“There was an idea about trying to make this album a little more palatable for group listening without trying to sacrifice the spontaneity of the songs,” he adds. “We tried to give it more of a Friday-night party atmosphere.”

Bryan is still the Ants’ primary songwriter, but McEniry, Randall and Nichols also shoulder some of the creative duties.

“These guys have the patience to work with me, to find the best arrangements, and work on these songs hours on end and for weeks on end,” Bryan says. “We’ve found a good space where we can create together. It’s collaborative. We’ve developed a good working relationship where I take direction from them just as much as they take direction from me. We’re able to not get messed up in the kinds of egotistical things that go on with bands sometimes, where, like, Sean decides that he wants seven solo sets in one song or something.”

The others share a laugh and nod. All the band members are in their 40s; at this point, Randall says, they have no interest in ego. “I don’t think any of us get married to a particular part that we poop out on a particular day,” he says.

Bryan places his palms on his knees, a cigarette dangling from the fingers of his right hand. He looks around at his band.

“I know a lot of songwriters in town who would slay to have a dedicated group of people around to help them realize their project,” he says. “It’s rare what I’ve found. It’s a good thing.”