The flicker of fairy lights. The taste of a forest on a wet day. The sound of a backroom deep in a David Lynch dream. Harbour boats bobbing on a slow tide. An empty armchair letting slip the secret of a past owner. Hope Sandoval lounging on a carousal, legs swinging over the side, watching the glitter blur of each slow revolution. Skeletal love-torn hymns that waltz to their own heartbeat. This Mortal Coil. An ice-crisp voice that seems to live behind your eyelids; but only when you close them. The ritual of elegant decay that is only revealed through timelapse video – even that Nine Inch Nail one for Hurt showing a rotting fox carcass in reverse. Victoria Legrand purring “Your wish is my command” on Wedding Bell, pulling the melody down into an Abba daze before releasing it back into the air. Nico and Marianne Faithful and Francoise Hardy. Ignoring the glow of the day for the nightime whisper of sea and sand, knowing that only a band that name themselves Beach House would only go there at night. The wondrous, pleading sway and goosebump chill of new
album Teen Dream. The look on your face when you hear them for the first time.
Beach House play Cardiff Arts Institute on 16 February.
I’ll be there…
Words: Kai Jones
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