LOS ANGELES — Bethany Cosentino can be eerily good at predicting the future.
She wrote the song “Boyfriend” before the guy in question took on that role. She released a track with the lyric “What a year this day has been” in 2012, well before our 24/7 news hellscape took hold. She spoke out about sexual misconduct in the music industry in 2016, a year before #MeToo took off. And she wrote a new song called “Everything Has Changed” about quitting drinking and finding happiness 14 months before she took action.
“Deep down inside, it was a life that I wanted — it was just not one that I thought I would be able to live,” said Cosentino, the 33-year-old singer, guitarist and songwriter for the indie rock duo Best Coast. She added that in an early version of a mission statement about the group’s fourth studio album, “Always Tomorrow,” due Feb. 21, she explained her seemingly divine powers in the lingo of the feminist internet: “As it turns out, I am indeed a very powerful witch.”
With that said, she paused to dip a thin brush into a small ceramic palette. Cosentino was spending a December afternoon decorating an oversized mug at Color Me Mine, a pottery-painting shop with an outpost minutes from her childhood home, steps from the since-closed record store where she’d first discovered the Blink-182 albums that inspired her to take up the guitar.
“If you had told me at one point in my life my hobbies would have been like, talking about my life over Color Me Mine, I would’ve been like, ew, that’s not true,” she said and laughed. “I’ve never been happier.” She shaped a large “S” for Scorpio in black, a homage to the so-called Stussy doodle.
On the topic of botched prognostications, Cosentino also didn’t foresee that the very qualities that made her such an appealing rock star over the past decade — her openness about her life in lyrics, her availability on social media, her seemingly cavalier attitude about her vices — were simultaneously causing her to unravel. “Always Tomorrow,” a powerhouse rock record with a sharp perspective and loads of hooks, is a document of an artist stitched whole again. It’s also the sound of an invigorated band rejecting the idea that the greatest music comes from tortured roots.
When Best Coast — Cosentino and the guitarist and bassist Bobb Bruno, 46, a friend from the Los Angeles scene — released its first album, “Crazy for You,” in 2010, it arrived with a sonic fingerprint: chiming guitars, gobs of reverb, girl-group grooves, vocals delivered with a casual affect. With the producer Jon Brion, the duo wiped away a layer of haze on its follow-up, the 2012 LP “The Only Place,” and spread its sound out further on “California Nights” in 2015.
Cosentino is what the “Always Tomorrow” producer Carlos de la Garza calls “one of the greatest singers I’ve ever recorded.” He described her “rich tone” in a phone interview as “a classic type of voice, almost like a Patsy Cline” in an indie rock slipcover. But an outspoken mob always seemed to be challenging the band in its early days. Best Coast’s songs weren’t all lyrical love letters to California — or weed, or Cosentino’s beloved ginger cat, Snacks — but the idea that the group was beholden to a guiding aesthetic and a thematic shtick stuck to them like sap.
Female musicians don’t just get asked a lot of questions about being women in bands; they face an outsized amount of verbal abuse. Best Coast’s rise coincided with the growth of social media as a marketing tool and omnipresent force. Cosentino was very online, and very sensitive to the digital daggers piercing her music, her personal life and her looks.
“I was so good at acting like I don’t care what you think of me, but deep down, I read every review, I read every comment, I cared so much,” she said. “And I believed those things. Like if somebody said, ‘This girl’s music is mediocre,’ I was like, oh, I’m a mediocre human. I should lock myself in my room for five days.”
Bruno cited the snarky and now defunct blog Hipster Runoff as emblematic of the era’s freewheeling fire hose of negativity. “There was a lot of misogynistic and really wrong, hateful stuff that site would put out there, and yet it was popular,” he said in a phone interview. “It still upsets me.”
The story Cosentino wanted to tell on “California Nights” five years ago was of maturity and evolution, of demons conquered and ladyboss status achieved. That wasn’t exactly accurate. While contemplating the lettering on her mug, she quoted the lovably loose-moraled “Seinfeld” character George Costanza to explain her personal relationship to the truth at that time: “It’s not a lie if you believe it.”
She added: “And literally the entirety of my 20s, that was my M.O.”
During the five-year gap between “California Nights” and “Always Tomorrow,” Best Coast toured with Wavves, the band led by Cosentino’s boyfriend at the time, Nathan Williams, as well as with the pop-punk juggernaut Paramore. The duo released a children’s album, and served as the house band on “What Just Happened??! With Fred Savage,” a parody of TV after-show programs.
Cosentino’s very public relationship with Williams, whom she said she has “nothing but respect for,” made her a tabloid figure for the Stereogum set. (They shared a Spin cover in 2012.) She said it was hard to navigate a “relationship that was at times very unhealthy” while “feeling like my identity was so tied into it.”
Outside of it, she remained a public figure in indie rock, rallying behind women who accused the music publicist Heathcliff Berru of sexual misconduct in 2016 (he apologized for “inappropriate” behavior), and appearing on “The Daily Show” to discuss sexism in the music industry: “I literally was sitting there being like, how did I get here and how did I become the spokesperson for this?” (She took Xanax before the show taped, “which wasn’t smart,” she realizes now.) She later wrote an op-ed about misconduct, revealing that a family member assaulted her when she was a child.
When she wasn’t on tour, destructive patterns awaited. “My self-care at the time was like, oh I just get really [expletive] up and watch Bravo,” she said. (She still watches Bravo, sober, for the record.) She was blacking out often, “mixing a lot of things that shouldn’t have been mixed,” she said, “to the point where I’m like, really lucky that I’m still alive.” On the advice of her best friend since childhood, Cosentino returned to therapy, but kept some things secret. She was abusing her prescriptions. She was burying feelings. “I knew if I said certain things out loud, I would have to address them,” she said.
And for the first time, the prolific songwriter was creatively paralyzed: “I would sit and try to write and nothing would come out.” She ultimately broke down and asked Bruno if he would send over tracks for her to write to, something she’d never requested before.
Bruno, a longhaired, chilled-out musician with omnivorous musical tastes — inspirations for “Always Tomorrow” include Avril Lavigne, Kool & the Gang, White Lion and the Spinanes — said he didn’t fear the worst: “I have the utmost faith and belief in Bethany.” Four of the tracks he sent ended up on the album.
The first one became “Graceless Kids,” a song anchored by a chugging riff with glimmers of ’80s pop-metal. Lyrically, it’s a message to Cosentino’s fans, who need “a hero not a wreck,” and it includes a spoken-word section that both thrilled her and thoroughly freaked her out. “My fear was that it was going to sound like when Taylor Swift does it,” she said. “When I recorded it in the studio, I made everyone leave.”
The music was inching along while Cosentino’s Instagram was filling with images of wine glasses and Coronaritas, but she started to crave change. “I had friends that had quit drinking, and I would look at them and be like, how did you do that?” One of them, Jennifer Clavin from the band Bleached, had likewise manifested her sobriety in song before it happened, and became instrumental in Cosentino’s journey.
“It’s almost like we subconsciously know the lifestyle we’re living is really unhealthy and self-harming and we want to get out, but we aren’t ready to fully accept that that’s what we need to do,” Clavin said in a phone interview, noting how easily the music industry facilitates and glorifies drinking and drug use. “Beth is such a huge inspiration to me,” she added. “She knows what she wants and is willing to go for it.”
Playing older songs on the Paramore tour, Cosentino gained an awareness of the pain in her own music. “I remember listening to my lyrics and thinking to myself like, why are you still doing this if you’re so miserable?” Not long after she returned, she woke up after a friend’s birthday party, hung over and bawling, and says she hasn’t had a drink or taken a drug since.
Bruno recalled that their conversation about it was brief. “She was just like, I’m not going to do any of that stuff anymore,” he said. “I was like, O.K., cool. And that was it.” Writing sober didn’t hold Cosentino back; it helped her break out of a creative lull: “Being awake to everything in such a clear way is so [expletive] crazy.”
The producer Justin Meldal-Johnsen (Paramore, M83), an early “Always Tomorrow” collaborator, described the duo’s unique working relationship as an “easy coexistence.” “It’s almost like Bethany and Bobb are two halves of one person” in the studio, he said in a phone interview. He explained that the pair’s goals for the new album were to avoid rehashing the past, and to “honor their influences without it ever seeming pastiche or too on the nose.”
Part of Cosentino’s enduring charm is her willingness to reveal her inspirations and gab about pop culture. Her current obsession? The anthemic band White Reaper. Lana Del Rey, who invited Cosentino to share the stage last year? “Literally the nicest person I’ve ever met.”
You can hear dashes of everything Cosentino absorbs on “Always Tomorrow,” an album about looking to the future while stealing enough glances at the past to stay on track. There’s crisp pop-punk (“Different Light”), spacey fuzz rock (“Used to Be”), a song about Snacks (“Rollercoaster”). And yes, Fleetwood Mac is still a touchstone.
While the lyrics lean toward the earnest, Cosentino did allow herself a wink on “Everything Has Changed,” rhyming “lazy crazy baby” as a nod to the doubters who have dismissed her writing as repetitive.
Being anything but brutally honest wasn’t an option. “I realized if I didn’t tell this story, I’d be lying to people,” she said. “I would just be doing exactly what I was doing in the past, which was putting on an act and pretending like I didn’t give a [expletive].” Success looks different to Cosentino now, too. When she bought her new house, she downsized to something “super teeny.” She traded in her Mercedes for a Subaru.
Nearly four hours after her mug odyssey began, she carefully applied a series of dots (her signature), then thrust out her hands. “My tattoos are a perfect example of where I used to be and where I am now,” she said. One finger displays “trust no one.” On her other hand, there’s “let it go” and “surrender.”
“So it’s fully like old me, new me,” she said. “But they still both exist.” And she doesn’t plan to remove any of them.