“Sorry, I was thinking about something else.”
These are the first words you hear on the Beths’ latest, Straight Line Was A Lie, apologizing for the opening track’s false start. At first, it feels like a cute, self-deprecating peek behind the curtain from the celebrated New Zealand band, but upon reflection, it’s actually a fitting introduction to the more vulnerable album that follows.
I never previously associated such descriptors with the Beths. To me, the adjective I’d most often use is “exquisite.” There is something graceful, practically effortless about how the band’s contrasting elements—Elizabeth Stokes’s beautifully delicate vocals, Jonathan Pearce’s fuzzy, catchy riffs, Tristan Deck’s driving drums, and all four members’ shimmering harmonies—come together to create power pop gems that simultaneously feel modern and like they’d be topping the college rock radio charts in 1989. The level of musicianship is so high, so consistent, that four albums in, you could almost take the quality of a Beths album for granted.
So it’s wonderful that they’ve chosen now to show more of the people behind the catchy hooks and sing-along choruses. The title track sets the tone, as it builds and crashes, then builds and crashes again before ultimately reaching a cathartic loop. “No Joy” is as tight and fast as you’d expect from this band, but with enough raw grit on the guitar and drums that you feel like you’re in the studio with them. The band even embraces chaos for once on the propulsive “Take,” as this is the rare Beths’ song where the music feels like it’s in a battle with Stokes’s voice… and winning, as her singing the lyric “oblivion” collapses into a searing solo from Pearce.
Lyrically this album also finds Stokes more exposed. Her trademark witty turns of phrase are still present, but feel less guarded on lines like, “I’m only here to feed mosquitos” or “I’ll always be addicted to your energy.” This is especially true on the album’s gentle standout, “Mother, Pray For Me,” where a child strives to connect with their mother as a person rather than a parent. It’s open-hearted but complicated—“I want to hurt you for the hurt you made in me”—and avoids any sentimentality by ending without resolution.
That fits the album’s larger theme of uncertainty. For a band that so clearly knows who they are, the songs really show them grappling with a changing world: the images of erosion on “Mosquitos,” the list of what it takes to simply survive on “Metal,” the fear of what’s to come on “Ark of the Covenant.” Which makes the album’s most declarative moments—the triumphant chorus on “Til My Heart Stops”—pop all the more. Its passion feels earned.
And despite these difficult feelings, Straight Line Was A Lie is still an exciting, rocking album. Like the Beths prior albums, you will be bopping along the whole time, and these songs will sound thrilling live. The Beths are evolving, living up to Stokes’s own lyrics on “Roundabout,” “Never change, unless you do, unless you want to.”
