To Love Is to Live

Although it seems Jehnny Beth has decided to go solo to express more of her vulnerabilities, by the end of To Love is To Live it’s hard to say whether we actually feel any closer to her. However, it also shows her chameleonic abilities as a vocalist, as she’s working with different styles and productions yet still sounding urgent.

‘To Love Is To Live’ is a sonic poltergeist with sentiment to boot.

While the record does, on occasion, feel weighed down by its own existentialism - the more explicit musings on existence that open (‘I Am’) and close (‘Human’) the record notably - the rich sonic palette and Jehnny’s steely delivery ultimately win out.

It isn’t always as loud or as exultant as her band’s output, but it is rivetingly intense, whether at full rock strength, in dance-ish, trance-ish electronic mode or at a whisper backed by a small orchestra. ... The album is simply what it is, take it or leave it, but take it. It’s magnificent.

It's a slightly scattered record, but one fuelled by an invigorating conviction and helmed by an artist with the gravitational pull to make it all align.

Lyrics are vital, and here they often clunk where they should pierce, deadening some of her undeniable power. [Jun 2020, p.86]

It seems to be a study of gender, sexuality, innocence and sin, and ultimately identity; and it feels literary, in the way it deliberately and self-consciously turns over its themes.

A timelessly raw and real ride through this thing called life.

This is an imperfect, imprecise project—but that’s the beauty of it.

To Love Is to Live is an emotional essay in which Jehnny Beth has created one of the most compelling and sincere albums of the year so far.

Everything here sounds how Jehnny Beth is meant to sound, making To Love Is To Live a record as masterful as its creator is complicated. [Summer 2020, p.99]

Her lyrics are often uncomfortably revealing, as she peels apart her feelings about love, sex, sin, femininity, masculinity, Catholic guilt, and violence and how they all define her — often on the same song. She’s a rare artist who thrives on overthinking everything (hey, she is French) and the album’s general grandiosity never feels obnoxious.

Beth’s ability to glide between vulnerability and intimidation is unnerving, and adds more shades of grey to a performer who’s previously operated in black and white.

Taking you on a journey which reveals new landmarks and perspectives each time you listen, To Love is to Live is a compelling and real cinematic picture of the emotions that life throws at us. It’s a journey you will want to relive.

To Love is to Live works best when Beth channels solemnity rather than bombast. The relentless bursts of energy that punctuate the record are often thrown as wild haymakers, yet it’s the cerebral moments before they land that deliver the most rewarding blows.

As ever, Beth’s theorising is air-tight, but ironically, the album stutters most when it is being most provocative.

If you enjoy the dark imaginings of PJ Harvey and Nick Cave, this is worth immersing yourself in.

There's a greater diversity of moods, tempos and instruments, supporting a more experimental mindset. [Jul 2020, p.27]