I readily admit that writing music reviews through the lens of growing older isn’t the freshest perspective. I’m not the first 40-something white guy to talk about his relationship with music like that. Many critics have made entire careers out of writing books from this vantage point. But while such sentiments might have become cliche at this point, they also resonate with people because they’re universal. We do get old. We do age. Our tastes do change.
And that’s a good thing.
I spent my 20s caustically dismissing artists that even hinted at abandoning their roots, accusing them of going pop or selling out. In my 30s, I cynically critiqued bands that refused to update their sound out of some sense of misplaced loyalty for the good ol’ days. But as I crawl deeper into my 40s, I find myself connecting with people who create with a sense of purpose and focus. They approach their art with a clever combination of wholeness and wonder.
Yeah, they’re getting older. Yes, they don’t have piss and vinegar flowing through their veins any more. And thankfully, they actively resist novelty and nostalgia. But what matters most is that their music pulses with life. I want to hear the work of real people doing what matters most to them and on their terms.
Give me your albums about parenthood, divorce, and losing your older family members. I want you to talk to me about your changing your politics or chasing inner peace. That’s the sound of people making mature music with meaning. They might be aging chronologically, but they’re also engaging with the world and applying those lessons to their lives.
Which brings me to the music of The Beths.
This New Zealand quartet has quickly become one of my favorite bands in the last few years. Their 2018 debut, Future Me Hate Me, featured tight pop hooks and playful indie rock swagger, the likes of which I hadn’t enjoyed in nearly a decade. They delivered intense energy that hit me right in my gut. It wasn’t tacky, hacky, or schlocky. It wasn’t generic punk snottiness either. The music resonated because it came from a place of authenticity. The group simply wanted to create high-quality, guitar-driven rock music. I needed that aesthetic desperately, and I crave it to this day.
They continued in that general direction with their 2020 album, Jump Rope Gazers. The album doubled-down on the ‘90s indie rock grooves, while also introducing their idea of a power ballad. Some friends of mine complained about the slower tunes, but I recognized a band playing at the edges of its sound as a way to explore different musical ideas.
That overall progression continues with Expert in a Dying Field.
Released on Carpark Records, this album offers crisp, vintage power-pop motifs married to intense ‘90s slacker vibes. I’m talking the purest possible homages to Veruca Salt, Letters to Cleo, and Pavement while also embracing an affection for multi-part harmonies you hear in The New Pornographers. The record veritably sings with gorgeous arrangements and a delicate production feel, despite the high-energy nature of many songs.
It all starts with the band’s willingness to embrace layers and textures. By warming up to concepts like tempo changes and dynamic shifts, The Beths introduce a sonic fluidity to their music without compromising on the energetic mood of their debut. The result is a collection of 12 punchy tunes bursting with energy and vigor. They’re tight and fun without sloppy execution and the need for over-the-top embellishment.
The excellent soprano of Elizabeth Stokes anchors the entire affair.
I personally enjoy hearing a lead vocalist evince relatable pathos without indulging in overwrought emotionality or irony-poisoned affect. And that’s before we get the band’s delightful brand of four-part harmonies which sound like friends singing their favorite songs in a garage, not musical theater nerds aiming for perfect pitch. The dual guitar attack of Jonathan Pearce and Stokes strike a keen balance between fuzzy and clean, snarling and sensitive. The rumbling rhythm section of Benjamin Sinclair on bass and Tristan Deck on drums provide a boisterous attack while keeping the songs on track.
From the jump, it’s obvious The Beths will deliver the goods.
The jaunty title track opens our ears to the group’s overall aesthetic: solid groove, believable vocals, nifty guitar textures, and quality pop energy. But when the chorus lyrics arrive, you can tell we will be in for an emotional ride across the entire album:
“You can’t stop, can’t rewind. Love is learned over time ’til you’re an expert in a dying field.”
“Silence is Golden” delivers rip-roaring pacing, complete with fuzz-soaked guitars, snare-heavy drum pattern, and psych-heavy lead guitar riffage. However, Stokes flips that energy with rapid-fire delivery of lyrics that speak frankly of post-relationship pain: “Maybe I’ll break, just shatter, disperse, like cracks in a glass and never hold a drink again.” With “Head in the Clouds,” the band conjures up some high-quality Cranberries-esque passion, right down to the keening guitars and driving tempo. However, it’s the pained, relatable lyrics that truly capture my attention, especially the passage, “It’s a pain in the heart leaves a scar every time. You can scream at the void, but it never replies.”
On “A Passing Rain,” The Beths showcase their enhanced abilities.
They shift tempos and dynamics with ease while delivering a peppy tune that would have torn up ‘90s college radio. Moreover, it’s hard to deny the pathos of a phrase like, “I cave like I was built to break. You stay like it’s a passing rain.” Closing out the album, “2am” recalls fond memories of a long-ago relationship, one that might not have ended on the best terms. The music begins gently with hushed drums, delay-heavy guitar phrases, and wistful vocals before slowly building to a raucous conclusion befitting the group’s overall musical trajectory. Yet, it’s the lyrical acumen of Stokes that gives the songs their true heft, especially when she intones lines such as, “And I know it more with every passing day, though it hurts, I still love you the same.”
The ambitious and expanded sonic palette of Expert in a Dying Field feels earned.
The Beths still know how to rip and tear, but they also recognize that it’s OK to pull back and explore other musical territories. The band has made quite an amazing progression across their three albums. The punky sensibilities have been sharpened to a fine point while the widened scope has been fused with more precise edges. As a result, they’ve improved their overall song craft, removed the excess frills, and showcased bigger ideas with more nuance.
Like any project ostensibly about growing older, the lyrics throughout this album frequently discuss the intricacies of mature relationships and the struggles of adulthood. Sure, these are familiar topics for any band that makes the conscious decision to move on from the bratty perspectives of youth. What I like most about the approach taken by The Beths is the deft blend of whimsy, romanticism, and humor. By realizing that they doesn’t have to be full-throttle all the time, the group’s music affirms their authenticity without having to recreate the tenor of their debut while setting the stage for the future.