Looking ahead with Best Coast
Photo credit: Rob Loud
I first learned of Best Coast in 2012 when the sunshine-infused, alt rock duo toured with Green Day during the Uno/Dos/Tres era that I’d prefer to forget. For as terrible as those three (THREE!) GD albums were, Best Coast was a welcome surprise. Their 2010 album, “Crazy for You” sounded how a Michigan summer night felt – cruising around town with my friends, cigarette dangling from my fingertips as I inhaled the humid air batting at my face. Listening to the album again 10 years later, I can still see my friend’s sun-kissed blond hair swirling around her face as we sped down the winding back roads of our small, inconsequential town. Dusk enveloping us like a welcome blanket. The orange gradient of sunset is etched into my memory, ready to distract me from today’s woes of adulthood at the press of “play.”
“Crazy for You” is ripe with the feverish laments of a scorned lover. It’s bursting with unrequited feelings. It pleads with the listener to stay. To make things work. To run aimlessly hand-in-hand through fields of passion, mixed signals, and wanderlust. The album feels youthful. Which means to say, it’s full of a range of emotions. By the fourth track (Summer Mood), I’ve experienced the rush of a crush, the gut punch of a young, unstable relationship, and the stubborn goodbye that inevitably concludes a flurry of regrettable texts.
A decade later, the now-adult members of Best Coast present listeners with a surf rock album that’s rooted in self-awareness, growth, and optimism. The juxtaposition of the new music against their aforementioned album illuminates the difference between our early 20s and 30s. “Always Tomorrow” makes clear that as we grew up and moved on from those balmy Summer nights with our friends, Best Coast evolved with us. We’re no longer white knuckling through angst and indecision, and instead, we’ve managed to find jobs, partners, and most importantly – things we like about ourselves.
“For the First Time” is the second track of the album and at first listen, it sounds like an early-2000s, the-man-is-against-me tune, fit for an evening of debauchery and ignoring curfew. The guitar is nostalgic and deliberate, the drums bang out a rhythm prime for nodding along, and the vocals are raw. And all those things are true, but with a closer listen, you’re greeted by relatable, reflective lyrics. “And I guess this is what they mean when they say people can change. 'Cause I finally feel free. I feel like myself again. But for the first time.”
Skip ahead to “Wreckage,” where we’re invited to not just peak through an open window, but climb inside and witness the unraveling of vocalist Bethany Cosentino’s ego first hand. For three, high-energy minutes, we join Cosentino as she explores her penchant for being her own worst enemy (another great song of the early 2000s, by the way). Frustration spills into self loathing as she pleads with herself to be better: “Now that everything’s burned down. I can put it all to bed. If only I could make sense of it when it’s swirling in my head. I’m so sick of being proud and I’ve got nothing left to say. I guess I’m still the best at getting in my own way.” Cosentino deserves to cut herself some slack. She’s not pushing off blame to anyone else and in fact, she apologizes for her tendency to do so in the past. Nearly three minutes into the song, she does give herself a break: “No one’s saying I’ve got to be perfect. So why do I keep pushing myself?” It’s a beautifully simple bridge that brings home the album’s overarching theme: forgive yourself and keep going.
The last song of the album, “Used to Be” slows the mood down a bit with a guitar riff that permits your heart to cry just one more time over the one who got away. The song isn’t pleading for a lover to return. It’s not begging for forgiveness. This ballad laments the loss of love and the painful process of moving on: “Did you forget about me? I'm sure that you're trying to, though I don't want it to be true. It's only been a year, but I've let go of so much fear. And I just want what's best for you.” These are not the words of an angry, almost-adult coping with her first true breakup. It’s mature, and it’s decisive. “Used to Be” concludes the album on a cloud of nostalgia and melancholy, leaving listeners to stare into the distance, recalling the precise shades of pink that were painted across the sky on the night they fell in love for the first time.
“Always Tomorrow” compiles the reflections of an adult who’s lived through heartbreak and knows that with time, space, and tears, all things grow better. It compassionately reminds us that even if we aren’t the person we want to be yet, there’s Always Tomorrow.
