The Beths - Jump Rope Gazers Review
there is a glossier polish to the sound on this album that detracts somewhat from the bubblepunky sound that established the band
2020 feels a few worlds away from 2018, the year The Beths were introduced to an international audience with debut Future Me Hates Me. The Aucklanders are currently playing a series of shows in New Zealand. Residing in one of the less unfortunate of the Western countries through the pandemic means the band are able to play a run of shows, rewarding fans that have been with them from the days of the Auckland scene and of the Warm Blood EP. Non-New Zealander fans have been treated to a series of ‘Live from the House’ YouTube streams during lockdown, meaning we aren’t at all jealous of the actual gigs, honest.
Future Me Hates Me was welcomely received by critics and listeners alike. It distilled itself into a triumphant balance of garage riff, jangly guitar, melodic harmony and self-loathing. Its healthy mixture of immediacy and heartbreak made it attractive to many anxious souls and indie boppers. The result was an album so inward, appealing and reflective that sounded so inclusive, outward and joyous. Stokes’ lyrics of warm melancholy, sincerity and sharp humour earned her nominations for New Zealand’s coveted Silver Scroll award (awarded for excellence in songwriting) two years on the trot. Having avoided too bright a spotlight while still receiving the plaudits, there is little pressure on the sophomore record to be anything but more of the same.
The Beths get stuck right in with “I’m Not Getting Excited” the opener from Jump Rope Gazers. The isolated guitar intro rolls with such a creeping urgency that we can’t help but set ourselves up for the panic attack that Elizabeth Stokes is trying to sing herself down from. She continues with the urgency, reminding herself that she can survive the weight of expectation until the sweet release of death. Perhaps that will have to wait as we head into the lead release from the album, ‘Dying to Believe’, which keeps up the energy and finds the band struggling with the demands of a difficult relationship. “I’m dying to believe that you won’t be the death of me” suggests the demands of global tours and growing popularity are the love that the band are struggling to maintain. A train-voiceover in the song suggests the journey is bringing us back to Orakei, a suburb of Auckland.
Orakei signifies a return home for the band, a chance to relax and recuperate. The tone of the album likewise shifts, with a period of reflection, just as we were getting excited. The title track and ‘Acrid’ are downtempo, an arguably more refined sound, with Stokes thinking about love, friendships, and trying to make sense of it all while navigating the delicacy of a changing relationship. There is undoubtable tenderness and beauty in the midsection of the album, but it feels a little long rather than longing, and perhaps we could have done with another hit or two of their trademark energy before the heart-to-hearts.
Long-distance friendships and relationships, pressures of success, and imposter syndrome are the key themes of the album. For the majority of the album we are the friend of the band, offering space for them to vent. We are active listeners and do not offer advice. There are moments when the band becomes our friend, cradling us, the subject, in warm empathy. In ‘You Are a Beam of Light’ Stokes and her acoustic guitar take us into a side room and let us know we aren’t alone even as our “battery runs dry”. We feel truly seen, as we do in ‘Out of Sight’: an upbeat reiteration that we aren't alone and our faults are forgiven. The emotive guitar lines cut through us for the most hair-raising moment on the album, which also encourages us to get up and dance around the bedroom after we’ve spent a while thinking about the different versions of ourselves and crying on the bed.
Stokes’ lyrical mastery and delicious imagery is omnipresent, at one point comparing her thoughts to a rat-king: a most grim image that cannot be which wouldn’t even be worth untangling. In ‘Don’t Go Away’ – which Stokes admits is a strop written about her friends moving on to chase their dreams, perhaps also a little aimed at herself – her wit is strong, describing a friend’s “stomach and eye always a discrepant size”. Later she reminds us of this wit and, in ‘Mars, the God of War’ during another confrontation, argues that “all of your recall requires optometry.”
However, there is a glossier polish to the sound on this album that detracts somewhat from the bubblepunky sound that established the band. The spontaneity and excitement, which coexisted so brilliantly with the sentimental on the debut, takes a backseat here. The first album arguably got stronger as it progressed (that run of ‘Not Running’ to ‘Whatever’ is irresistible) whereas this feels a little up and down. There are not bad songs but it lacks the thrills and the hooks that ran throughout the debut.
Future-The Beths may look back at 2018 less with hate, more with gratitude. The Beths in 2018 are to blame for getting them into this international touring deal, which has created conflict and confusion in their long distance and new relationships. After some reflection, confrontation and empathy the band have grounded themselves once more. The journey of Jump Rope Gazers appears to convince The Beths that they are loved; they are not imposters and deserve to be where they are, even if Liz Stokes herself is just shy of sure.