On their self-titled debut, Baltimore boy-girl duo Beach House sucks you into a lush, liquid universe of gently pulsating keyboards, programmed rhythms that feel like drowsy heartbeats and Victoria Legrand's hypnotic, haunted-girl purr. The songs yawn and creak, splitting open with splintering washes of slide guitar and stop-starting with skittering beats. Occasionally a track rises to the surface, like the broken music-box lament Apple Orchard or the suppressed anxiety of Tokyo Witch, but Beach House generally stays in its comfort zone with melodies and arrangements that sound too cohesive. The duo's capable of more - Legrand has the hypnotic vocal detachment of Nico, but draws you in with flickers of rage, anger and elation, and the newer tunes I've heard live are in a whole other ballpark. A solid debut, but only a hint of what's to come.
Beach House gets in the mood at the Tranzac Saturday (November 4).