Musicians who take my mind far away have always been some of my favorites. There’s something fascinating about a piece of artwork that can transport you and your thoughts to a different place. When I discovered genres like “shoegaze” (music centered around noisy, etherial guitars) and “dream-pop” (hazy, reverb heavy, alternative rock focused on texture), I realized how powerful not only words could be at this sort of “transportation,” but also how powerful just sounds could be. Artists like My Bloody Valentine, Cocteau Twins, and Slowdive build these walls of sound that are almost disorienting, with vocals so far buried in the track, yet somehow it all just makes sense. I felt like my brain was able to just get lost in the sounds and not have to think too hard about what I was hearing. There was an aura of warmth and comfort coming from these bands, and I became infatuated with this way of making music. One band, however, really took those stylings and pushed them in a different direction, utilizing powerful vocals and touching songwriting. That band is Beach House.

Beach House are a duo formed in Baltimore in 2004. While both members handle a little bit of everything, Alex Scally primarily handles instrumentation and Victoria Legrand performs the vocals. I discovered the band from their famous 2015 track “Space Song,” which features an iconic drunken synth melody that is instantly recognizable to anyone who has heard the song before. I was hooked on the unique sonic textures, which complemented Legrand’s commanding, boomy, yet gentle vocals. The emotion behind the track just seeps through, and it’s certainly brought many listeners to tears. I listened to the entirety of the 2015 album Depression Cherry, which features “Space Song,” and I absolutely loved it. Something about the album felt colder than a lot of the other dream-pop records I had heard before, which I thought was interesting. But, while I did thoroughly enjoy the album, it didn’t really strike me as a revolutionary project. It wasn’t until I listened to the band’s previous album, Bloom, that I felt I had discovered something life-changing. 

I don’t even really know where to begin with this album. It was released on May 15, 2021, on Sub Pop Records and has become one of the band’s most critically acclaimed projects. There’s a specific atmosphere that I only really get from Bloom. Of course, it’s got the signature warmth and reverby nature of dream-pop, yet there’s a little darkness to the sounds. It feels like a warm summer night at the beach, like gazing at the stars while the wind gently brushes past you. The structure of the songs really lives up to the album’s title, “bloom.” All of them start out small with one instrument or element, and slowly the song builds up into a distinct climax of textures and feelings. From the very first track, “Myth,” it starts with a bouncy percussion pattern, followed by a glowing arpeggiated synth and fuzzy string section, a waterfall of drums, and eventually glides into the verse. Legrand delivers her poetic lyrics and tender vocals over a thick bassline and pounding drums, the echo of keys able to be heard in the distance. Eventually, a dreamy vox synth (one that sounds like layered vocals) is added to the mix, and it all builds up, eventually BLOOMING into the desperate, beautiful, and powerful choruses. The feeling that I get out of “Myth” makes it not only one of my favorite songs on the album, but easily my favorite Beach House song and one of my top songs ever. Perhaps one of my favorite moments of this building-up structure comes from the penultimate track “On the Sea.” It begins with a fade-in harpsichord, playing an off-beat pattern in the left channel, then joined by a plucky piano in the right channel. The track builds and builds, the different sounds creating “waves” that make the song title fitting, all leading to a tremolo guitar solo that sounds so distant, like it’s being played far in space. It is so perfect. The layering of instruments and the overall mixing of Bloom is absolutely masterful.

There’s an underlying flow of the album that is subtle but crucial. Every track has a smooth, floaty, perpetual motion that makes the album super pleasant on the ears. Tracks like “Wild,” with its cascading tom drums and cinematic crash cymbals, and “New Year,” which features perhaps the most driving beat and walls of glistening synthesizers, just feel like you’re soaring through the clouds. A lot of the drums, whether digital or acoustic, have a very hip-hop-like bounce, which allows them to pop in the woozy mix of guitars and keyboards. A pretty consistent and defining nature of the record is the band’s use of arpeggiated synthesizers across the tracklist. Whether it be a primary element like on “Lazuli,” where the track builds off of a glittery, ascending and descending electric keyboard line, or on a song like “Wishes,” where the arpeggios can be heard in the back of the mix as added texture. Scally’s reverb-heavy guitar compositions are also very well done. He creates this oscillating melody on songs such as “The Hours” or “Other People” that is super satisfying. The overall sonic atmosphere can simply be described as satisfying. Despite the album’s atmospheric nature and often somber tone, it can be played in really any setting because it’s just very chill and easy to listen to. If you play the album in order, even the transitions between tracks are seamless. There are little sounds like the band talking together or a bird chirping that add a small sense of world-building and contribute to the feeling of transportation. It’s minute, but these details are what make the project so impressive in my eyes.

The lovely soundscape would be absolutely nothing if it weren’t for Legrand. Her presence keeps the album from drifting too far into space and really balances everything out. She has such a deep, strong tone that allows her to command the tracks, despite how much is going on in the instrumental. The melodies she creates with her voice are simple enough to be catchy but complex enough to be impressive. When she belts at the climax of a track, it sucks in all of the attention and the listener has no choice but to be enveloped in the power of her singing. The different layers of harmonized vocals are also a key element of this record and serve as some of my favorite parts of the whole thing. Lyrically, the songs are interesting as well. The storytelling is abstract but emotional. Take “Myth” for example. It’s clear that the lyrics are about the instability of some complicated relationship, but it’s tackled in a unique fashion. Legrand likens the idea of a relationship to a myth and beckons the listener to question whether things are truly working. We all have these uneasy, existential feelings from time to time, and you can never place a finger on what exactly is happening. Legrand simply asks the listener, “help me to name it.” 

The use of questions and the word “you” across the songs makes them more applicable to anybody’s life, and for me, it provides a sense of connection. Referring back to the song “Wishes,” Legrand compares the idea of things constantly changing and hoping for them to go a certain way as “wishes on a wheel.” She hits the listener with questions such as “is it even real?” and “how’s it supposed to feel?” The ambiguity of the questions and, more importantly, the fact that they are left unanswered is something that makes the songwriting so powerful to me. In my eyes, it represents how life is just a stream of never-ending, mostly unanswered questions, unfinished ideas, and a flood of emotions. There are also plenty of metaphors that combine with the music to create really powerful imagery. On “Troublemaker,” past regrets become something tangible, described as “thunder [rolling] in with the dark” and “tiny fingers on the edges” of relationships, unraveling them. She personifies these memories as “a face to remind me,” later becoming “a face to remind you,” once again bringing that sense of intimacy between the songs and the listener. 

It’s obvious to say that I have such extreme appreciation for this project because it has been there for me through some hard times. I’ve listened to this thing everywhere, from my bedroom alone at night, to a bus in Italy, to hanging out with friends at the beach. I’ve come to develop my own relationship with “Bloom” that I don’t think anyone else will be able to understand, yet what is beautiful about this music is that anyone can develop this sort of connection. A connection that only they can have and truly understand. The record’s closer, “Irene”, which features a hidden track after about six minutes of silence, perfectly encapsulates the spirit of this whole thing. “It’s a strange paradise,” repeats Legrand as the first part of the song fades out. That’s what this album feels like. There are clearly moments of sadness, longing, and pain on it, yet the immense comfort, sublime beauty, and heartfelt emotion on this record make it an irresistible and strange, strange paradise.