I gave Arcade Fire and Broken Social Scene a pass for being miserable in miserable times, but at least I sensed a little fire in their belly, down their somewhere.
Or maybe I've just had enough. Chastity Belt's latest is a joyless slog, full of half-time Sonic Youth chiming and endless moaning, lacking all of Time to Go Home's brilliant smolder and flash. It's relatable, personal, hopeless, and true, but so thoroughly defeated that it slumps you over into boredom by the halfway mark 2.5/5
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