Beach House

Beach House’s “Teen Dream” is the musical version of a narcotic, carrying away the listener into a heavenly realm of lush pop melodies and intimate organ beats. Coming into their own on their third album, the Baltimore dream pop duo—consisting of Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally—maintain their past convention of chill intimacy, while adding new layers that knit together to produce a more polished sound, setting the album apart from their previous work.

This newer, more refined sound successfully complements the group’s developing lyrical philosophy. The idea of love as enslavement that was evident on 2008 sophomore album “Devotion” has been twisted here into an image of love as enchantment. The hypnotic cage is now a hypnotic spell, delivered in a musical atmosphere similar to that which last year brought Grizzly Bear success.

From the start of “Zebra,” the first and arguably best track on the record, the music is dreamlike and catchy, holding the listener under its trance of deep, soothing vocals and repetitive but variant beats. Legrand communicates a sad and disappointed air, while refusing to let her love die.

This opening eases us into the slight sock hop feel of “Silver Soul,” which sounds precisely like the “medicine for heartache” that the lyrics promise. The back-up vocals harmonize furtively but effectively with Legrand’s voice, which itself seems possessed by the love of which she sings. The incredible standard of the songwriting is revealed by the constantly shifting references to an “It,” which appears at the beginning as “a vision, complete illusion,” but later becomes, “a sickness, a manic weakness.” The song addresses the intense, overwhelming excitement of falling in love, like a pleasant but tortuous emotion that constantly picks up momentum.

After this high, despair comes a couple of songs later in “Walk in the Park,” where melancholy is consoled by Scally’s dominant keyboard melody. The lyrics have a great internal rhyme scheme—“The face that you saw in the door isn’t looking at you anymore / The name that you call in its place isn’t waiting for your embrace / The world that you love to behold cannot hold you anymore”—and the simple image of walking in the park to forget your heartbreak manages to remain powerful.

The songwriting is so precise that the moaning vocals and the densely layered music complement each other seamlessly. Each song on “Teen Dream” is a painstakingly crafted wonder. When Legrand’s voice rings out on exaggerated vowels, the music follows suit, sweeping the listener along in a daze. “Used to Be,” a rerecorded version of the track that first appeared on a 2008 single release, exemplifies this fuller sound unique to “Teen Dream.” An upbeat piano ballad of sorts, its poetic unanswered questions address the pangs of growing apart. On this and other tracks, the emotional core of the song is consistently detectable on the surface. Beach House’s music has matured and it shows.

“Norway” is the most dreamy of all, with fairy tale imagery and singing so soft it’s almost like Legrand is gasping for air. “Lover of Mine” is the most instantly accessible track on the album, where the starlight sounds are only slightly offset by the deepness of Legrand’s voice. “10 Mile Stereo,” a late album highlight, follows suit with an uncertain organ and a quick, almost Postal Service-esque beat.

The album closes with “Take Care,” which encapsulates the album’s exploration of the glowing, growing, capital “L” kind of Love—“It’s no good unless it’s real, hill sides burning / Wild-eyed turning til we’re running from it.” The ultimate fade-out ends the LP on a thoroughly satisfying note.

Beach House has truly hit a creative stride and the result is innovative and beautiful music. With its depth and sweep, the soporific melodies explore the internal difficulties of eternal teenage feelings. Such is the triumph of “Teen Dream” that, so early in the year, 2010 may already have seen one of its best albums.