Some performances are made to dance to, to laugh along with your friends to, to scream the lyrics over the singer and smile all of the way through. You have a drink beforehand and you party all night afterwards and everything you do falls into one great rush of life and laughter. I arrive at Vicar Street ecstatic that I am about to see Baltimore dream pop duo Beach House, feeling that same rush of gigs past bubbling in my stomach, but this night is destined to take a different path.
Decked out in a leather trench coat, frontwoman Victoria Legrand descends upon the stage with characteristic grace, eyeless behind her fringe, ethereal in the dull glow of the stage lights. Guitarist Alex Scally and a touring drummer follow her out, mounting themselves in a line along the stage, bound to the spot for the entirety of the gig. For other acts, I’d be critical of a lack of movement and presence, but this is a device of Beach House – they plant their roots and you plant yours, sewn to the spot as dense waves of luscious, earth-shaking sound wash over you. Legrand hits a pedal on her rig and we’re eased into cult favourite “Levitation”, as if we’re slowly being drip-fed a tank of morphine. The song builds and builds, layer upon layer, until it’s almost too much to take before dissipating with a flash to darkness. The crowd, palpably overwhelmed, cheer for about thirty seconds into the next track, “Lazuli”, before realising “Levitation” has ended.
The setlist of the evening spans songs from their self-titled debut to their most recent album, 7, and everything in between. “Dark Spring” adopts the abrasion of My Bloody Valentine’s live performances of “Loveless”, with ceaselessly pumping drums and distorted guitars roaring to the high heavens. The crowd absolutely lose their minds when the metronome for “Myth” is triggered, and the band play the song note for note with no allowances for deviation or error, a tactic well worn for a song that approaches mathematical pop perfection. Songs from 7 such as “Black Car” showcase the newly developing sound of the band, adopting synth sounds and song structures that don’t fit the model of previous Beach House albums but shine in their own unique way.
A Beach House concert is a holistic experience, the lighting and visuals just as instrumental to the success of the gig as the performing. The backlit stage oozes mellow oranges and greens while songs like “Lose Your Smile” and “Master Of None” float above the audience like silk, in stark contrast to the manic patterns displayed for standout banger Lemon Glow. The night could end satisfactorily with “Elegy to the Void” – I’ve never seen strobes used as effectively as these, seeming to spark and burn as the song claws its way to climax.
I don’t move an inch from the beginning of “Levitation” to the ending of encore “Dive”: I’m firmly within the firm grasp of Beach House, and happier for it. Legrand throws her hair and body around her keyboard but never once do her feet move – we’re all set in stone together, observers but not participating in the sonic world that Beach House lay out in front of us.
