Much of recent memory has been defined by the curation of impersonal online spaces. Or more specifically, the blurred distinction between fantasy and reality. The fantasy, in this case, is the idealistic smokescreen of influencer lifestyles, self-help gurus, or the curated aesthetic we present online. It is, of course, a visible lie that we acknowledge, but it has not stopped us from applying this impersonal online veneer into the real world. Performance has become a daily ritual for some, often attempting to present their lives like the character they’ve curated on their feeds. Within social media’s glossy sheen lies a sinister implication: To be yourself is to be vulnerable; to be vulnerable is to expose yourself to the world like an open wound.
On Chin Up Buttercup, Katie Austra Stelmanis does more than present a simple “euphoric breakup record.” Here, she’s experiencing an emotional freefall, littered with the explosive outbursts one might see behind the screen. “I think people are really craving vulnerability because social media is so impersonal, and that’s just how we interact with the world for the most part,” she tells New Noise. It’s through manic lyrics, stylistic oscillations, and euro-trance-inspired instrumentation that Austra has decided to embrace a newfound vulnerability.
Austra allows herself to be seen without anything to shield her from the world. Opener “Amnesia” slowly creeps us into the record’s grand introspection. Ethereal ambience lays the foundation with nothing but an isolated piano to color this liminal space. “My life is not the same without you in my life,” she howls as the track swerves into a pounding groove.
The slow addition of synths and a mesmerizing bassline recontextualizes this sentence from that of immense sadness to an optimistic mantra for the future. On “Math Equation,” she describes the end of her relationship without any filler. “You said I needed my own friends/So I found them/Then you fucked them,” her voice jadedly reverberates. The four-on-the-floor beat lifts the track into a melancholic groove, dancing the pain away amidst a warbling bass and a shimmering synth line.
Despite its initial straightforwardness, Chin Up Buttercup weaves between serene electronica and bumping club-style rhythms. Tracks like “Look Me in the Eye” and “Blindsided” sees Austra’s hymn-like voice reverberate amidst light electronics before breaking down completely; the latter weaves between the two until deciding on a soft ending. On the former, her voice beautifully maneuvers through introverted pianos, building up in scope until slowly fizzling out: “Maybe I just need a reason to let go.” A hazy, mist-like ambience introduces us to “The Hopefulness of Dawn,” with its light water droplets suggesting a spatial openness that is both internal and external. “I see color in the sky/It’s brighter now than you and I,” she sings before a ‘90s euro-trance synthline overrides all sentimentality the track has; now, it’s time to let loose and be free.
There is a relief in all of this, one that is built on the outward expression of our own downward spiral. It’s no coincidence that Chin Up Buttercup‘s artwork showcases Austra naked, tears running down as she cries, almost begs, for some relief. “Good Riddance” is a reflective track that, despite its cute synth line, encompasses this bittersweet optimism. “I finally feel at peace/Protected by my family,” she sings, her voice tripling into a choir on the bridge. There’s a relief in expressing oneself without the constraints of online performance. Here, she accepts and opens herself up to the world. “Red alert/Car crash/Just smile, you’ll be okay” she cynically proclaims on interlude “Chin Up Buttercup.” She isn’t concerned with any musical consistency. Instead, she’s allowing her unfurled emotions to explain themselves loud and clear.
Chin Up Buttercup is out now via Domino.
