During a particularly tumultuous period of my adolescence, there was a day when, after fracturing my sacrum rowing, I found out I have low bone density. The same day my backpack (which contained my glasses, textbooks, and homework) was stolen from my mom's car and my typically shitty boyfriend broke up with me (for a second time) outside the Cheesecake Factory. My antidote for these kinds of days was always to barricade myself in my childhood bedroom, an impermeable fortress where I'd attempt to inundate my senses with goodness—sweet-smelling candles, entire boxes of Mallomars, and, most importantly, the music of Beach House.
Despite having released two full-length albums in 2015, at last night's sold-out Crystal Ballroom show Beach House wooed the crowd with old favorites like "Master of None" and "10 Mile Stereo." Singer Victoria Legrand bantered about the venue's "spaceship balcony" as well as its "mojo barriers"—"Do you know what mojo barriers are?" she asked about the 21+ divider. "Do you know what mojo is? Does mojo have barriers?"
It's not surprising that Beach House's music has grown so popular, but I suppose I was bemused when a fellow concertgoer yelled "EYOOO" upon hearing the first few notes of Depression Cherry's "Space Song," a slow-burning, effervescent track that sounds beautifully haunting in the same vein as Julee Cruise's contributions to David Lynch's Twin Peaks soundtrack.
Since releasing their 2006 self-titled debut, the Baltimore duo has quietly amassed a gigantic following, as evidenced by last night's turnout. With just Legrand's keyboard and Alex Scally's guitar (and last night's addition of a bassist and a percussionist), Beach House grows lush, layered soundscapes that are gently evocative but never lacking in depth or soul. Their seemingly simple dream-pop is characterized by its complex, sensual textures—it's at once fragrant, syrupy, and gauzy, with Legrand gently handling her words like she's plucking ripe fruit from trees.
