There’s a point on Chastity Belt’s long-anticipated fifth LP where it feels like everything comes together. On “Kool-Aid,” bassist Annie Truscott takes the reins for one of the album’s most compellingly stormy moments, marking their first outing as a lead vocalist for the band. “Surrender to the fear that lives inside me,” they sing, their voice crawling out of a frenetic bassline. It’s a line that’s both hopeful and weary, one that captures that feeling of being fatigued out of your mind yet determined to grit your teeth and move forward anyway. It’s a line that feels like it could be the thesis of the whole record. Then again, that delicate blend of stoic realism and rosy optimism is something Chastity Belt have become known for. Hailing from Walla Walla, Washington, the four-piece’s (Julia Shapiro, Truscott, Lydia Lund and Gretchen Grimm) decade-plus long career has always been rooted in eternally-listenable guitar music that feels like it has its feet on the ground and its head in the clouds.
Playfully titled Live Laugh Love (a phrase that can be found on many a pastel-painted Hobby Lobby wall signs, as well as in stick-and-poke tattoo form on Shapiro’s left ankle), Chastity Belt’s first album in half a decade is laden with existentialism. Across 11 tracks spanning just under 40 minutes in runtime, the four-piece channel the spirit of the project’s namesake—a determination to always look for the silver lining, even in the darkest of times. Album opener “Hollow,” a sunny outing carried by Shapiro’s light vocals, is deceptively grounded in heavy lyricism about the all-too-human experience of feeling lost (“Waiting for some sign, wasting time”), adrift (“I wanna trust myself again”) and separate from the world around you (“Real life doesn’t feel real anymore”). But despite the inner turmoil, when Shapiro signs off with “I wanna know myself again” at the track’s finale, you believe her. It’s a hopeful intro that sets the tone for the rest of the album, assuring listeners that, if life is a joke, it at least can’t hurt to laugh along.
The band demonstrates that idea perfectly on the soft-rock outing “Funny.” “If I’m being honest lately, I’m not feeling great,” Lund sings before brushing it off just moments later. “It’s funny,” she pans, finding the humor even amidst the throes of an emotional rut. It’s a theme that also shines through on the uptempo “Clumsy,” a track driven by a sleek, unforgettable guitar riff. “Would you rather avoid me than admit you feel guilty?” Shapiro asks, bemoaning an ex-lover. Venting those frustrations helps her begin to come to terms with life’s inevitable low points, and she accepts how “it’s kind of tragic, but it’s fine.” Even still—she wittily throws in one last jab. “I don’t wanna be a bitch, but I think you need to grow up,” she croons, brimming with cool bravado.
Sometimes, it’s this exact process of cycling through the stages of grief that allows us to make peace with life’s disappointments. Project high point “It’s Cool,” a moody, grungy track that listens like a vulnerable cry into a dark chasm, encapsulates this. “And what’s the point of anything if I always feel the same?” Shapiro asks, lines before catching her breath again. “Nothing that I do or say today will mean a thing, but I’m not that devastated,” she admits, ceding the point with a resounding “No, it’s cool.” It’s a track that leaves you with the feeling that somehow, despite how bleak things may seem sometimes, it’s all going to be okay in the end.
Maybe that means that you have to lean in. It’s a push and pull that all comes to a head on “Chemtrails,” one of the album’s grittiest moments—which sees Shapiro accepting life’s limitations by focusing on the things that she can control. “Someone like me can’t let go of anything,” she says, noting how “moments move like chemtrails in my mind.” That mentality sets the stage for the process of beginning to move forward, to find closure amidst imperfection. “And in a moment, it all could end—I gotta get off the internet,” Shapiro says on “Blue,” an eye-opening memento mori that leaves the door open for encouragement to follow (“Don’t get upset about it / It’s gonna pass”). Lund echoes that calm, self-assured mindset when she steps up for album standout “I-90 Bridge,” a glittery, surf-rock-suffused electric jolt peppered with mic drops (“Tell your girlfriend she’s got nothing to fear / I’m set in my head/My body’s a different story”).
Live Laugh Love is a refreshing outing from Chastity Belt, who are no doubt in top form, as the album arrives like the culmination of each member’s lifelong musical evolution taking the collective whole to new heights. Like the saccharine phrase it’s named for, it’s a project that’ll give you a good laugh while simultaneously disarming you with heartfelt sincerity. Live, laugh, love—and always lean in.
Elizabeth Braaten is a writer from Houston, Texas.
