Chastity have released their new self-titled album via Big Scary Monsters (UK/EU), Deathwish (US) and Dine Alone (Canada). The album comes alongside the revealing of a visual aid for new single ‘Buzzed and Bleached’ – a track bursting forth with classic skate-punk thrash that seizes with anticipation and anxiety. Instigator Brandon Williams says “I’ve been avoiding this type of beat since the beginning of the band, but the truth is is that I love it. This song’s about grieving old times, blinking and they’re gone.”
‘Chastity’ is a 13-track record about the things that have always run through Chastity’s records — struggle, death, despair, redemption, darkness, and light — but this time, the songs ascend to new depths of intensity and desperation, new heights of resolution and power. “It’s really about the first nosedive that I did as a young person,” says Williams who *is* Chastity. “It’s a record about struggle, about the missing years. It’s also a thank you to some people in my life.”
Chastity’s first three full-length records — 2018’s ‘Death Lust’, 2019’s ‘Home Made Satan’, and 2022’s ‘Suffer Summer’ — formed a trilogy that defined a 4-year arc of the band’s contribution to outsider music. Each record was informed by Williams’ life, but each was also conceptual and interpretive, refracting his experiences through a level of remove. On ‘Chastity’, there is no such distance: Williams decided to write a fully non-fiction work.
The record hurtles through melodic hardcore, shoegaze, and emo, all magnificently and enormously rendered thanks to slick work from John Paul Peters (Propagandhi, Comeback Kid), who engineered and mixed the record. The band recorded at Peters’ Private Ear Recording in Winnipeg in March 2024. Chastity’s guitars have never sounded so immediate and towering, sometimes exploding into a sputtering, ripped-speaker chaos; and there are perhaps the most ferocious bass and drums sounds of the year on ‘Chastity’, splitting the difference between gnarly-as-fuck generator-show tones and vividly textured, hi-fi chest-beaters.
The new record arrives on the heels of a whirlwind six years for Chastity. Williams founded the project in Whitby Ontario. From the start, it’s been a project of absolution via community connection. There weren’t any venues for independent punk music in the suburban town, so Williams and his friends started throwing punk shows in a barn on Whitby’s rural outskirts. People took notice: Before long, Ontario punk stalwarts like PUP and Metz were making the pilgrimage to the barn to headline gigs, and profits from the shows went to a regional youth mental health services. Chastity spent the next years touring North America including shows with Sunny Day Real Estate, Alexisonfire, and Deafheaven.
This new era begins on opener, and previously released single, ‘Jaw Locked’ with a lone tom strike and a wall of glorious, pounding major-key guitars. The track drives forward, relentless and crackling with energy, while Williams revisits the feeling of voiceless loneliness—with a full, determined belt. He wants to hear people scream it with him. “I think the idea of people singing along with me about a time in my life where I was feeling like my voice didn’t count for anything is a relief for me,” he says. “It’s like the circle has been closed in a way, it’s like finally the lonely can all be together.” Follow-up ‘Electrical Tower Dive’ finds Chastity’s first official lyric use of “friggin’” tucked into a harrowing retelling of the first time Williams confronted, and re-considered, an early end to his life.
Elsewhere on the album, ‘Offing’ is “the most country the project’s ever gone, some townie emo,” which continues the heavyweight thematic material. As Williams says, it’s “a song about getting my meds mixed and thinking about death, approval from others, living to see another day.” ‘Offing’ mixes Chastity’s trademark old school emo approach with a decidedly country influence, culminating in a yearning singalong moment.
‘Chastity’ closes with ‘Drawing the Sun Back in the Corner of the Paper,’ a patient, atmospheric, hopeful slow-burn about opening back up to life and living (as Williams describes it, extending the contract with life) thanks to the care and support of another. In Williams’ case, he credits his partner, the musician Linnea Siggelkow, whose care made him want to check in on others who need it, too. It’s a beautiful and affirming ending to a Chastity record, centered on the band’s first and enduring idea: Life is less shitty if we live it together.
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