More about: Beach House

Midway through Beach House’s scintillating headline set I feel a tap on my shoulder. The crowd is packed-out and, as I turn around and spot a man twice my age grinning widely at me, I’m ready to brush off whatever mildly inappropriate comment he has to make and shuffle away through the sea of swaying bodies. But it turns out not to be the seedy encounter I expect. “Do you know the name of this one?” he beams over the gauzy glimmer of new album track “New Romance”, “It’s a beautiful tune.” 

I answer him and he types emphatically into his iPhone Notes app. “One to look up later,” he says before turning away and settling his eyes back on the stage. I’m taken aback by the innocence of the encounter, and the well-meaning intent behind a usually charged tap on the shoulder.

But it’s a pithy metaphor for the aura Beach House has crafted on this balmy Thursday night in Brixton.  The crowd is eclectic, with middle aged men mingling with young professionals, corporate city boys straight from the office with ties loosened around their necks, teenagers in cargo trousers clutching to plastic cups and the occasional carabiner keychain wielding softboi thrown in the mix. Yet, as the idle chatter dies down and the Baltimore band’s lolloping melodies begin to fill the room, the crowd seem united by a wholesome sense of community; pinned together by the whirring guitars, hymnal synths and booming blasts of bass being cooked up on stage.

As the band power through an hour and a half set that deftly traverses their entire discography  — yet never sees two songs from the same album played back-to-back — a unspoken understanding makes itself clear:  tracks like “PPP” and “Lemon Glow” warrant a foot-tapping singalong, fabled Depression Cherry cut “Space Song” is the communal moment for thrusting a phone in the air and snapping a grainy thirty second video, but newer album tracks like “Pink Funeral” and “Superstar” command a bit more respect, with an eerie silence snapping the crowd into a trance-like stupor. 

With a production heavy performance that boasts an impressive set of visuals just as it much as it does a stellar sound, the venue’s backdrop is frequently transformed, with a sepia golden hour glow fading into a subtle shot of a car barrelling down a moonlit highway, before a narcotic sky glimmering with stars descends into a  hypnotic monochrome graphic plucked from Bloom’s prismatic cover. And, as the sequin-clad, hazy figures on stage are constantly swept up in a flurry of flashing lights, the band never seem to lose momentum and the set deftly wanders into its more melancholic numbers before dusting itself back off for its dancier moments with ease. 

While shoegaze sometimes doesn’t translate particularly well in the live arena — especially when, like Beach House,  a band has a discography that spans almost the entire lives of its listeners and is peppered with a few prized fan-favourites — tonight Brixton Academy was brought to life with a cinematic grandeur and hazy, aloof cool that only comes with musicians well-matured, well-measured and in complete control of their craft.

Far from being drowned out by the venue’s enormity and expansive pillared facade, Beach House strolled through a sleek and sublime sixteen-track set that,  along with the fans jostling for a good spot even right at the back of the room, proved they’re capable of much bigger.

See photos by Adam Taylor below:

Issue Three of the Gigwise Print magazine is on sale now! Order here.

More about: Beach House