Beach House - Devotion

The front cover of Devotion shows Alex Scally and Victoria Legrand, the two members of Beach House, facing each other over a candlelit table. Their heads are bowed in private contemplation, and between them lies a cake with the band name and album title on it.

The title and cover both seem pretty appropriate here - there's something about the album that gives the sense of intruding on a private religious ritual, a séance or some other act of lonely worship. This is music that feels like it should be performed in an empty church late at night. There's a certain icy, funereal solemnity to Legrand's voice that explains why she's frequently compared to Nico, and the band's love of vintage organ sounds (they used six different types of organs, apparently) creates an imposing, austere background for the songs. A mood of hushed melancholy permeates throughout, and the sparse, repetitive instrumentation lends the music a strangely ceremonial aspect.

However, devotion can also imply selfless commitment, and it's not too much of a stretch to imagine that the double meaning is deliberate. Even a cursory listen reveals that Beach House are fervently dedicated to a particular sound - a dreamy, trance-like soundscape consisting of minimal percussion, droning organs, warm, reverb-soaked guitars and atmospheric, echoey vocals. The songs exist in an unhurried, ethereal haze which lies somewhere between The Cocteau Twins and Mazzy Star.

It's not for everyone, and on first listen it can sound a little samey. But repeated listens draw out subtle distinctions and confirm the impression of a band deeply in love with their craft. From the opening harpsichord-led shuffle of ‘Wedding Bells’ to the baroque pop of standout tracks ‘Gila’ and ‘Heart of Chambers’, the band's talent for writing fiendishly simple pop songs shines though, and their ‘less is more’ template reaps dividends again and again.

‘Gila’, in particular, is a marvel: riding along on exactly the same programmed beat for almost five minutes, it assumes the inevitable force of a juggernaut on the strength of nothing more than Scally's simple riffs, Legrand's repeated "Oh-Oh-Oh"s and a series of impeccably-placed hooks. It encapsulates exactly why this album is as much of treat as the cake on the front cover, and why you'd be well advised to listen up when Legrand sings "It's the right time for a holiday."