Editor’s Note: Welcome to the first installment of Relevant Rock, a new series of insightful reviews of rock music releases for those Catholic Exchange readers who are discerning fans of the genre. Yes, we all know that the world of rock music is filled with mundane, repetitive noise wrapped around lyrics that are intellectually void and spiritually dead, but does that means there is nothing good there to listen to? Dan Hart begs to differ. Let Dan lead you safely past the dense jungles of radio garbage and into places where good musicians still produce creative pop music. They aren’t always necessarily Catholic, but Dan Hart is. Enjoy!
Wistful dreams are palpable in Bloom, Beach House’s fourth full-length album (released in May). As if elicited from a Terrence Malick film, the songs imbue a softness that you can almost taste, all at once tranquil, joyful and melancholy.
The musical influences of Beach House are a delightful mixture, most notably 80’s The Cure and 90’s Enya, with a side helping of vintage electronica. The second track “Wild” provides a plentiful dose of echo-y, starkly picked guitar tones that seem to be directly lifted from The Cure’s Disintegration (a good theft). Despite the annoying synth cymbal that pervades the percussion, the song is lifted to mystical heights, as is the entire album, by lead vocalist Victoria Legrand.
Legrand’s voice is remarkable in a number of ways. Perhaps most notably, it sometimes seems androgynous, as the opening track “Myth” reveals. The first lines of the song are sung low, and bring to mind a bit of Janis Joplin’s husk. At other times, Legrand sounds beautifully feminine, as on tracks like “Lazuli” where she channels Enya’s breathy harmonies. Toward the end of the song, Legrand’s voice is multi-tracked with both mid-range and gorgeous high notes that emit a striking beauty.
The fourth track “Other People” slides into an effortless, smooth groove that will suck you in like a vacuum. Legrand’s voice is at its most comforting here, submerged in a soft echo and speaking of a wonderfully simple realization in the chorus: “Never thought that it would mean so much / Other people want to keep in touch.” The second verse speaks of a blissful time: “Somewhere nothing could reach us / These days go by.” At the end, Legrand hazily murmurs underneath the final verse. Is she saying “I love you”? It’s impossible to know for sure, but it’s pure ecstasy.
Not all of Bloom is euphoric. On “Wishes,” Legrand’s tone becomes a few shades darker. Impressionistic lyrics like “Wished on a wheel / How’s it supposed to feel” are sung in a way that make her feelings known. Later, the music is hushed, serving as a lead-in for Legrand: “One in your life / It happens once and rarely twice.” The aura here is potent, a lesson learned in no uncertain terms.
“On the Sea” is Legrand at her most wistful. Backed only by a piano for much of the song, a reflective melancholy pervades lines like “On the sea, we’d be forgiven / Our bodies stopped, the spirit leading / Wouldn’t you like to know how far you’ve got left to go.” “On the Sea” melds into the final track “Irene,” a slow burner that is paced in a way so as to leave as much room for reflection as possible. The album’s deftest observation is the centerpiece here: “It’s a strange paradise,” Legrand intones in sing-song-y lullaby mode. This refrain is repeated numerous times over the song’s final three and a half minutes, which seems to give the delightful impression of added meaning and nuance each time.
The songs on Bloom are circular in nature, with the verse, chorus and bridge melodies sequenced in neat succession. You won’t find any guitar solos or other improvisations here. What you will find is layer upon layer of reverb-drenched atmosphere. The echo-immersed keyboards, guitars, synth percussion, live drums and vocals are overlayed in such a blissed-out fashion as to leave the listener in a trance. Don’t be surprised if you feel the need to return there again and again.