Beach House: Bloom
Bud Scoppa, Uncut, June 2012
The Baltimore duo stitch a blue velvet tapestry.
WHEN BEACH HOUSE released their self-titled debut album in 2006, it was readily embraced by the Pitchfork-reading indie crowd for the duo's ability to make something otherworldly with the simplest of components. Recorded in a mere day and a half, the album contained nothing more than Alex Scally's filigreed Stratocaster licks, Victoria Legrand's evocative vocals and silky organ chordings, and the most rudimentary of drum machines. Still, it came off as a provocative amalgam of Mazzy Star's proto-dream pop and Portishead's existential eeriness.
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