Written & photographed by Sadie Almgren
Downtown Ōtautahi Christchurch is undeniably sleepy on a Thursday evening, except for the warmth and buzz divaricating through the queue curling around The Church Pub. Slithering through the exact type of crowd you would expect to be absolutely stoked about the tote bags inscribed with “The Beths” being sold at the merch table; the hallowed, tall ceilings accommodate a humongous, looming inflatable fish, resembling the cover of Auckland based indie outfit, The Beths’, 2022 record, Expert In A Dying Field.
A fog machine coughs and sneezes spurts of fog, and the evening’s opener lurks onto the stage. Folksy and experimental, Ōtautahi based Mousey and her friend Will, upon whose lap perched a Korg, implore together, would it be alright if I died on that hill? over a soundscape that is droning and urgent, ethereal and earthly. Mousey’s sound is reminiscent of the vocal timbre and intensity of Brandi Carlile, and the sentimental energy of Hope Sandoval, but mostly of that lounge singer in that one scene in Twin Peaks where Agent Cooper is warned that “it is happening again”. Overpowering the chatty pub atmosphere, Mousey is tender and dissonant.
Wearing matching gray sweatshirts labeled “guitar/bass/drum tech”, The Beths, who follow the grand tradition of bands with the name convention “The (noun)s”, walk onstage and tune their instruments, to the almost violent delight of the now attentive audience. After removing their matching sweatshirts, The Beths begin with “Future Me Hates Me” and play their popular song seemingly effortlessly, in a way that is just so much fun to watch. They are having as much fun as we are. Playing many of the tracks off of Expert, The Beths push forward through a viscous fluid with the ease of rock and roll. At times, the lead guitar leans psychedelic or noisy, and the drums are consistently clean and impressively textured. With cheeky references to “the fine blossoms of the Avon River” and their bassist’s five hundredth post on his breakfast themed blog between songs, The Beths win over the hearts of an audience whose hearts they have no doubt already won.
Pleasingly disorienting, “2am” is a huge highlight, as the open hearted slow burn slowly erupts into the feeling of loss of control as the jam becomes circular, perplexing, and colorful. The sonic equivalent of watching water violently circle down the drain while the tap is still running. The crowd is immensely growing and shrinking together with the band – synergy.
Frontwoman Elizabeth Stokes and her orange guitar cleverly entwine vivid melodies and nature metaphors with wide-eyed honesty, in a way that feels densely nostalgic and constantly relevant. Immediately, I call upon the soundtrack of some of the hard feelings of my own growing up, Soccer Mommy’s Clean and For Young Hearts. It’s a tired comparison to compare the flavor of indie rock to the sound of “coming of age”, but the yearning of “Your Side” or the urge to scream, throw up, or both in “Silence Is Golden” feels specifically pertinent to the time where our brains are still developing. The gray haired old heads, university students, and preteens alike singing along word for word, suggesting this is the feeling of a constant life process, as our souls recycle that of the past, becoming experts in the dying fields of that which we leave behind, both willingly and unwillingly. The Beths deliver a sense of freshness, putting words and sounds to our universal feelings; and are beautifully becoming a landmark of Aotearoa’s rich and creative indie scene.
Listen to Mousey’s new record, The Dreams of Our Mothers’ Mothers!
Listen to The Beths, Expert In A Dying Field
