Beach House has a just-out-of-reach enigmatic quality to their music; I don’t ‘get’ what they’re trying to say but then I do…kinda. I’m OK with it – I’ve never needed meaning to be force-fed down my gullet (in fact, I prefer the opposite) – and their tunes often leave an aftertaste of mystery that never quite resolves. In those moments the lack of lyrical clarity is preferable; it frees me to power-down the analytical modules of my brain and relax into the pure ethereal atmosphere of their instrumentation.
It’s rather nice, really.
Allen Cordell, who directed the attached, seems to get this too as he’s peppered the whole affair with oblique, mysterious visuals that fit together in style and tone but not much else. It’s bizarre in the best of ways, a fitting first course for a late-night, solitary sesh.
What are you waiting for? Get in there.