THE MIRACLES CLUB When shopping at the Buffalo Exchange goes horribly, horribly wrong.
Judah Switzer

"WE WERE INTERESTED in capturing the psychedelic aspect of acid house music, but we were also toying with a kind of Tom Tom Club/tropical pop sound. Honestly, the songs just came out that way." So explains Honey Owens of how the Miracles Club stumbled into the sound of their latest EP, A New Love. Alongside Rafael Fauria and Ryan Boyle, the Miracles Club are a Fac 51 Haçienda house act gone astray, immersed in the sounds of piano-indulgent Chicago house, and draped in a blissful haze.

The enviable music of the Miracles Club is a throwback of sorts, but one that respectfully pulls from dance music's varied past. "We weren't trying to reproduce a vintage aesthetic, we were trying to expand upon things we loved about dance music throughout time," says Owens. "I feel like music in general is always expanding upon what has already been in motion. It's natural to want to imitate as you learn, but then hopefully progress into the future with something new to bring to the table." The Miracles Club's reinvented acid house first bubbled to the surface on the Light of Love EP, and now continues on New Love, which was released by Mexican Summer (Best Coast). The irresistible allure of dance-floor seduction is a departure for Owens, who has also done time in Nudge, Valet, and Jackie-O Motherfucker—three musical endeavors best known for being droney, psychedelic, and improvised, respectively.

The four-song New Love is warm and inviting, thanks to the welcome interplay between Fauria's swirling instrumentation and Owens' buoyant vocals. Or perhaps the recording works because of the stars: "Rafael is an obsessive Gemini who likes to constantly try different things and loves to record different versions of the same song, or work on the same loop for an entire day," explains Owens. "I'm a moonchild so I tend to be ruled by emotions and am also really spacey. I can sit down and jam for hours on my own or with others, but my process is more intuitive and also tends to be solo."

Their enraptured ethos—the word "love" is omnipresent, common in most songs and on each recording's title—is best found in Owens' hypnotic mantra "I just want to celebrate your love," which lingers like a specter among the chirping synths of "Church Song." That song in particular was the subject of a charming music video in which the trio and countless friends (and even a goat) pay their respects to late-'80s/early-'90s cable access dance programs—think MTV's The Grind, but with fewer glistening abs and no production budget whatsoever.

No matter how euphoric, the Miracles Club is concerned with creating music that is as relevant onstage as it is on wax. That's the role Boyle—their designated dancer, and very own Fred Nemo, if you will—plays in the band. "House music is a feeling that's cultivated by a whole room of people, so we had to think of a way to connect and communicate what we were doing to the people who were there to see and hear it. That's when our dancer Ryan Boyle came into the picture," explains Owens. "After the first couple shows we played, we realized that it wasn't about the two of us playing our gear at a club or in a basement, but that it was more of an experience that not only included, but depended upon the relationship between us and the people dancing."