The experiences used to flesh out each song cover the full cycle of grief, denial, acceptance etc., all while wrapped up in the need to bottle up any misery. The album title being a sardonic note on the social compulsion to plaster on a smile when everything inside is crumbling.
As Austra, the incandescent alter ego of Katie Stelmanis returns having dealt with those electric currents of grief and laid them to rest following the abrupt ending of her long-term relationship in early 2020. The emotional weight of that sudden erasure is seen everywhere. “You said I needed my own friends / So I found them / Then you fucked them,” she sings with wounded honesty on “Math Equation”. It mixes clap back with dance-floor exorcism. The album’s tone seems to present two sides predominantly, the counterpoint to that dance pop, fake-it-til-you-make-it healing is quietly intimate and confessional.
The immediacy of the armour adorned on the dancefloor mines ‘90s eurodance, trance and euphoric electronica for its drama and propulsive melodies. There are reminders of Bjork's and Madonna’s albums from that period referenced in tracks like “Siren Song”, “Fallen Cloud” and the emphatically embittered pair of “Blindsided” and “Think Twice”.
The sonic palette wanders into romantic and mythical laments and as a result the actual relationship loss is portrayed as cosmic. This could be seen as melodramatic or overblown at times but given the notion of the all encompassing love at its heart is also, perhaps unavoidable. After all, Stelmanis is wrestling with deep tensions and betrayals, balancing these with a lighter set of grooves for the most part despite the disorientation.
Vocally, she continues to be a force, moving with fearlessness, operatic at moments, intimate at others. She never softens her edge completely, even in vulnerability. She is wounded but unflinching. There are moments where the momentum threatens to buckle, a slower turn or atmospheric shift after a rush of catharsis is shared, but as we transition towards acceptance and the ‘moved on’ phase for album closer “Good Riddance” there’s a case for finally having been able to put the whole mess defiantly behind her.
Chin Up Buttercup will have resonance for people who have been told to “get over it,” who have pushed down heartbreak until their spine curves. Telling themselves “I’m fine”. Austra catches it lyrically and then smoothes that out with comforting sounds that after a while we can believe again, knowing that brokenness is not weakness.
