Beach House - 7
Bandcamp Daily
On “7,” Beach House expand even further on their time-tested blueprint.
Mon May 14 13:52:23 GMT 2018Tiny Mix Tapes 100
Beach House
7
[Sub Pop/Bella Union; 2018]
Rating: 5/5
The first time we fall in love, the world feels uncomfortably bright. Everyday life takes on an oversaturated quality, as if the scenes playing out before us were flecked with magentas and blues that don’t quite belong, a vividness distilled into one person. Like a chemical high — which love is, of course — we momentarily drift into a consciousness that we can’t quite contain. It’s a dream performed with eyes wide open.
In generic terms, the concept of “dream pop” as soporific feels somewhat nebulous, not least because the classics of the genre — in particular, anything by Cocteau Twins, but certainly their twin masterpieces Treasure and Heaven or Las Vegas — are so violently neon, plastered in a sheen that shares nothing with the relief of sleep. Instead, they belong to that primal understanding of dreams: abundant fantasy, that cartoon version of love where hearts beat out of chests; avatars for a world that defies reality to celebrate something more precious. On their seventh album, Beach House are fully in thrall to the latter.
Perhaps it was different once. 2010’s breakout Teen Dream occasionally felt like a band falling asleep at full volume, even for a group who had already built their craft on warm, woozy lullabies. After Bloom’s widescreen production almost pushed them into stadium territory, Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally have continued to amp up the melodies while retaining the band’s ASMR qualities, arguably culminating with Depression Cherry. While the latter wasn’t completely adored at a critical level, to me, it felt like they’d at least hit on the blueprint for a masterpiece. On 7, the Baltimore duo presents us with the completed architecture.
As with previous albums, lead single “Lemon Glow” proved to be something of a red herring. Nothing else here offers the kind of pumped up beat and sample-ready synth riff that defines the track, though there are a handful of moments that almost veer into soft rock: “Lose Your Smile” builds to a chord sequence that wouldn’t sound out of place on FM radio, certainly. “Pay No Mind” finds Beach House back to their most perfectly Beach House, only imbued with the kind of sheer happiness that could only come from a love song: “Baby at night when I look at you, nothing in this world keeps me confused.”
But for the most part, it’s the moments that pivot between shadow and light that provide the most pleasure. “L’Inconnue” emerges from its chrysalis around the 1:40 mark, Legrand singing in French as a heavenly choral loop begins to surround her voice. Both musically and lyrically, the development feels closer to the sound of falling in love than anything they’ve made, an ecstatic payoff that ranks among their finest work. By the time “Girl of the Year” achieves its own moment of rapture (“The feeling’s here, the pattern caught in a falling tear…”), it all slides into place. I’m in love.
At once, that other familiar emotion arrives: not that we might be too high, but that it must end. The words “too soon” ring out in the background, and we find ourselves fighting to hold onto the sensation, as we look across to the loved one on a perfect snow day and realize that it’s already becoming a memory, literally passing before our eyes, already a photograph that will produce as much sadness as joy. The cycle ends, the reel spins to a close, and I don’t want to wake up.
Tiny Mix Tapes 100
Beach House
7
[Sub Pop/Bella Union; 2018]
Rating: 5/5
The first time we fall in love, the world feels uncomfortably bright. Everyday, life takes on an oversaturated quality, as if the scenes playing out before us were flecked with magentas and blues that don’t quite belong, a vividness distilled into one person. Like a chemical high — which love is, of course — we momentarily drift into a consciousness that we can’t quite contain. It’s a dream performed with eyes wide open.
In generic terms, the concept of “dream pop” as soporific feels somewhat nebulous, not least because the classics of the genre — in particular, anything by Cocteau Twins, but certainly their twin masterpieces Treasure and Heaven or Las Vegas — are so violently neon, plastered in a sheen that shares nothing with the relief of sleep. Instead, they belong to that primal understanding of dreams: abundant fantasy, that cartoon version of love where hearts beat out of chests; avatars for a world that defies reality to celebrate something more precious. On their seventh album, Beach House are fully in thrall to the latter.
Perhaps it was different once. 2010’s breakout Teen Dream occasionally felt like a band falling asleep at full volume, even for a group who had already built their craft on warm, woozy lullabies. After Bloom’s widescreen production almost pushed them into stadium territory, Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally have continued to amp up the melodies while retaining the band’s ASMR qualities, arguably culminating with Depression Cherry. While the latter wasn’t completely adored at a critical level, to me, it felt like they’d at least hit on the blueprint for a masterpiece. On 7, the Baltimore duo presents us with the completed architecture.
As with previous albums, lead single “Lemon Glow” proved to be something of a red herring. Nothing else here offers the kind of pumped up beat and sample-ready synth riff that defines the track, though there are a handful of moments that almost veer into soft rock: “Lose Your Smile” builds to a chord sequence that wouldn’t sound out of place on FM radio, certainly. “Pay No Mind” finds Beach House back to their most perfectly Beach House, only imbued with the kind of sheer happiness that could only come from a love song: “Baby at night when I look at you, nothing in this world keeps me confused.”
But for the most part, it’s the moments that pivot between shadow and light that provide the most pleasure. “L’Inconnue” emerges from its chrysalis around the 1:40 mark, Legrand singing in French as a heavenly choral loop begins to surround her voice. Both musically and lyrically, the development feels closer to the sound of falling in love than anything they’ve made, an ecstatic payoff that ranks among their finest work. By the time “Girl of the Year” achieves its own moment of rapture (“The feeling’s here, the pattern caught in a falling tear…”), it all slides into place. I’m in love.
At once, that other familiar emotion arrives: not that we might be too high, but that it must end. The words “too soon” ring out in the background, and we find ourselves fighting to hold onto the sensation, as we look across to the loved one on a perfect snow day and realize that it’s already becoming a memory, literally passing before our eyes, already a photograph that will produce as much sadness as joy. The cycle ends, the reel spins to a close, and I don’t want to wake up.
Pitchfork 89
Beach House remain masters of the indefinable and their seventh album is their heaviest and most immersive-sounding of their career.
Fri May 11 05:00:00 GMT 2018The Guardian 80
(Bella Union)
It’s easy to understand why Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally don’t like people saying their albums all sound the same. Who wants to be told they’ve spent a decade running on the spot? And, of course, their albums don’t all sound the same. Just very similar. Take organ, synthesisers, some spidery guitar patterns, add Legrand’s blank vocals, some drums, and then locate a place where you can see the Velvet Underground in one direction and shoegaze bands in the other, and you’ve pretty much got your Beach House record.
The skill lies in making seven albums of, shall we say, a certain sonic consistency and not getting boring, which is what Beach House have managed. As with adding different herbs and spices to a favourite recipe to keep it interesting, Beach House add details that make the songs transcend formula. Pay No Mind is a song so sparse it’s barely there, but the bassy buzz of synthesiser, the gently Factory-esque guitar shading, and the double tracking of Legrand’s voice at crucial moments, give it a heft its bare bones could never achieve. Girl of the Year has a grandeur that’s genuinely stirring, and a breadth to its mix that makes one want to bathe in it.
Continue reading... Fri May 11 08:00:36 GMT 2018Drowned In Sound 80
Generally speaking, Beach House have never been the sort of band who are difficult to second guess.
Look at it from the perspective of the Baltimore duo; they struck upon a rough diamond on their self-titled debut, smoothed the edges off on follow-up Devotion, and then converted it smoothly into gold on their standout so far, 2010's Teen Dream. Nobody else does dream pop quite like them; between Alex Scally's sumptuous guitar parts and Victoria Legrand's Paris-jazz-club vocals and undulating synth lines, they'd carved out a formula that they'd have been foolish to set aside in the interests of constant reinvention.
Accordingly, their fourth LP, Bloom, followed the same blueprint as Teen Dream almost to the letter. It wasn't until the incendiary 'Sparks' was released in 2015 as the first single off of Depression Cherry that there was a real hint at a way forwards; the guitars suggested something more aggressive than what we'd become accustomed to, and so did everything else - the drums snapped as Legrand snarled.
In the end, for all its virtues, Depression Cherry represented business as usual; it was a spacier here, a little more pointed there, but it was certifiably Beach House. That's no bad thing, of course, and there's no question that the pair can feel justifiably aggrieved that that album's 'Beyond Love' wasn't enough to snag them one of the myriad guest spots at the Roadhouse in last year's Twin Peaks revival, ahead of at least one band who delivered pale imitations (Au Revoir Simone's two appearances serving as proof positive that even David Lynch gets it wrong every now and then).
A sixth LP, Trust Your Lucky Stars, followed keenly on Depression Cherry's heels the same year, and ultimately fell victim to what is a pretty prominent occupational hazard for surprise release by anybody who isn't a global superstar - not enough people heard it. After a B-sides and rarities collection dropped around this time a year ago, Beach House finally made a major concession in terms of their creative process - they cast aside concerns about what they would and wouldn't be able to play between the two of them on stage, and instead simply followed wherever their noses led them.
The result is 7, a record that gets closer to the band's self-imposed boundaries than they ever have before without really threatening to break them down. The opening notes of curtain raiser 'Dark Spring' involve a deeply uncharacteristic drum roll that swiftly gives way to a synth line that sets its trajectory for the heavens, rather than simply falling back into the usual Beach House penchant for the midtempo. It's genuinely exciting.
Touring drummer James Barone was drafted in to supply live work from behind the kit, and it tells; there's a palpably energetic thrust to the record's big hitters, including the positively bouncy lead single 'Lemon Glow' and the thumping 'Black Car', the latter sounding all set to soundtrack a shadowy religious ceremony. 'Woo' and 'Dive', meanwhile, reach back further for inspiration than we're used to from Beach House - the former to shimmering eighties electropop, and the latter to the sort of organ work that was laid to popular rest decades ago.
There's evidence that the aforementioned Twin Peaks snub mightn't have gone unnoticed by the group themselves, either. Legrand continuously casts herself as the narrator in some sort of future-blues film noir here, particularly with an irresistible turn on 'Drunk in LA'; there's a continued, Double Fantasy-esque fascination with the push-pull relationship between light and dark, both within human nature and in the world around us. It might be as close to political commentary as they ever get. Beach House remain such assured masters of their own domain that you wonder whether it'd be akin to turkeys voting for Christmas to hope for a wholesale reinvention; 7 suggests that, instead, we should let them pull up the stylistic bumper at precisely their own pace.
Sun May 13 12:17:30 GMT 2018The Guardian 60
(Bella Union)
Over a decade in, listeners probably know where they stand on Baltimore dream-pop duo Beach House. For many, their pillowy wooze’n’coo is beguiling; a world of thrumming organs and FX-laden guitars that’s easy to disappear into. For others, their charm is more mystifying. If you’ve heard Mazzy Star and My Bloody Valentine, it’s hard not to roll your eyes at Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally’s ongoing debt to the 80s/90s cusp.
Undaunted and enduring, Beach House continue to finesse their sound on this, their seventh album, a record that finds the duo – accompanied by their live drummer, James Barone – expanding their cinematic bent. Lemon Glow is particularly engrossing, a curdled night sky of a tune whose constituent parts weave in and out of focus. Black Car provides even more enthralling unease, where the various elements become unexpectedly off-kilter and 3D.
Continue reading... Sun May 13 07:00:01 GMT 2018