This is Chastity Belt’s own sense of humour writ large, a sisterhood in all but name.
Live, Laugh, Love is the kind of phrase you see framed on posters, usually right next to something like ‘Nobody Leaves Here Sober’ or ‘Keep Calm and Let Karma Finish It’.
It’s the kind of ultra-bland cliche which in some way you’d expect to find associated sarcastically with a Chastity Belt album (this is after all a band who in the past have given their songs titles like Pussy Weed Beer, Nip Slip and Pissed Pants), but instead the quartet are now very much lining up behind the Zen.
From the brilliantly named Walla Walla, Washington the four Chastity Belt members – lead singer Julia Shapiro, Lydia Lund (guitar, vocals), Gretchen Grimm (drums, vocals) and Annie Truscott (bass, vocals) — have been in each other’s orbit for more than a decade since the release of their debut No Regrets, and it seems they couldn’t be happier about it, hence the deceptively throwaway title of their latest outing.
Shapiro says that their bond is a sorority built on a common understanding: ‘It really does feel like we’re all fluent in the same language, and a lot of it just happens naturally.’
It’s worth clarifying at this point however that newcomers from the Prosecco nation shouldn’t be taken in by their fifth album’s apparently off the cuff phrasing: often introverted sounding, Chastity Belt’s music is indebted to a slew of 20th century genres that aren’t exactly a party starting.
This isn’t to say there aren’t open doorways for those with some perspective: opener Hollow, with its understated chords and general sense of helplessness, deep dives into the personal malaise of adjusting simply be seen as normal, confessionally saying, ‘But instead, all my needs bend/To fit in, I will sit still with my doubt’.
The path here reflects more the drip-drip of realisation as opposed to an emotional tsunami, a mirror to much of the rest of Live Laugh Love’s contented resignation.
By now, it should be clear to casual listeners that taking anything at face value is a risk. Chemtrails references a superficially well-known conspiracy theory, whilst on the track Chastity Belt serve up almost orthodox rock (Shapiro likens it in phases to Detroit post punk legends Protomartyr), but by contrast the words are about being trapped on a psychological hamster wheel of past regrets.
Phew. Heavy stuff? Well, Chastity Belt’s tools – which include sharing out the vocals and a deft economy in range – save the collected mass from pathos.
Truscott, for instance, sings for the first time in the band’s history on Kool Aid, a study in Bully-esque post-grunge with quiet-loud contours, whilst highlight I-90 Bridge lyrically unpicks formative experiences as it rides through the heart of 120 Minutes-style alternative pop.
There’s the argument though that with so much going on, there’s still not quite so much going on; with a drowsy smoke-filled riff, Blue seems to take an age to ignite before it finally arcs towards a feedback horizon, whilst Tethered’s murky shoegaze recalls Warpaint locked in another room and accordingly has a chilly sense of purpose.
The kiss off finally appears however in the guise of Laugh, as at last the sun appears to poke through the haze, the atmospheres offering a clutch of melody and warmth before finally unravelling.
This then is Chastity Belt’s own sense of humour writ large: a sisterhood in all but name, their bond means that Live Laugh Love isn’t a platitude, but instead a way to approach honouring those around you.
Like most relationships observed by a stranger, it will take a while to understand what’s going on, but there’s enough here to reward the patient and empathetic amongst us.
