Chastity Belt Find a Silver Lining on Live Laugh Love

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.