On a first encounter, a Beach House song, much like the boarded-up building from which it takes its name, can offer a lot to unpack. There is, above all, always an unforgettable, sometimes eerie melody, stretched out with a drowsy fluidity by singer and organist Victoria Legrand.
But there are also, just like at that actual beach house, any number of dark, dusty corners. Echoes abound, and everything sounds vaguely cobwebby. And Legrand's meaning seems always out of reach.
The lyrics are evocative without being specific; almost anyone can attach one to a memory of a past emotional experience. Because of this, a Beach House song is both by design impersonal and extremely personal. It's up to the listener to break it in, and there are increasingly many of those listeners these days who adore this band for that reason. A Beach House song is yours to inhabit, and that can either be thrilling, or, for some who need more immediate auditory gratification, frustrating.