The Beths
Future Me Hates Me

It's true that everyday life for us ordinary mortals mostly offers more headaches than anything else; however, if one faces adversities with a discreet smile, maybe it's better.

Just to say, all those who pick up a guitar only to tell the entire universe how lonely, misunderstood, and unfortunate they are—how much they suffer their condition, with a funeral-like expression that evokes more embarrassment than compassion—I just can't stand them. And it disheartens me that these figures are now the majority; (un)aware, they and those who give them an opportunity, that Nick Drake is dead and buried and there's no knowing if and when he will rise from his tomb.

That someone is indeed capable of playing the part and thus being convincing is beyond doubt (a certain Snail Mail above all), but the specific someone usually drowns in a sea of disconcerting banality.

So welcome the Beths, from Auckland, New Zealand.

Since the '80s, practically from the founding of Flying Nun, New Zealand has been emblematic for a certain unconventional way of playing pop, starting from the avant-garde Chills all the way down to the last row of the platoon which, with some small success, reached our shores a few decades ago.

The Beths fully embrace that tradition but color it with shades more suitable for modern times, crafting a power pop equally indebted to the more accessible Breeders and Pavement, a bit of "Cannonball" and a bit of "Summer Babe," if you know what I mean.

Nothing new but who cares, it results in something pleasant and engaging and, above all, as I see it, extremely singable: for instance, the only songs by Breeders and Pavement that I sometimes find myself humming at the stove, with an iron in hand and in other pleasant situations, are precisely those two mentioned; the songs of the Beths, for the past few months, I sing them all, inevitably; okay, "singing" is a big word, I struggle to learn and remember the lyrics, I sing going la-la-la-la-lalala-laaaaaaaaaaaa.

Music that makes me happy.

And here I arrive at the crux of the musical dreariness I was rambling about at the beginning.

Because it's true that the Beths play cheerfully but the lyrics are, if not exactly sad, at least melancholic, full of doubts, regrets, and remorse, meetings that never happened and abandonments, many things that could have been but weren't; starting from the album title—my future self will hate me—which means something after all.

And it is this happy/unhappy contrast between what Beth sings and how Beth sings and plays the guitar that is, for me, the beautiful thing about this album: indeed, it's like saying that the daily mishaps, after stumbling upon them, might just make you laugh or at least smile.

I like the "philosophy" that inspires “Future Me Hates Me”, I like even more the substance of the conversation: from “Great No One” to “Less Than Thou” it's a ride of guitars let loose to run fast and loud, although my favorite moment is that “River Run Lvl 1” where the guitars grow from a gentle picking to rock distortion, but the rhythm is the slow one of a ballad, the perfect synthesis of the different souls of the Beths; which then is that of a summer album released as summer is waning.

A beautiful thing, being able to smile when everything around is falling apart, at least reassuring; just like this debut by the Beths which, even though summer is over, I will continue to listen to for many more seasons, no doubt as far as I'm concerned.