La Blogothèque
Soirées de poche
#14

Beach House

We have always had a nose for underestimating the size of an apartment, one that could easily accommodate ten extra people. But we have never ever felt squashed. Though Guillaume’s apartment (which saved us when somebody pulled out last minute) was certainly smaller than average, but we thought it would do.

This however, was without considering the size of the piano, which we later placed in the middle of the room. Without considering the cables, pedals, and synths. Without considering the full drum kit and the equipment strewn across the bed of the now cramped room. In other words, without taking into consideration the whole sound of Beach House.

It took our team nearly three hours to set everything up. But we certainly weren’t complaining. How can you criticize a band that take such care and precision to create exactly the right sound and atmosphere? A band that is absolutely certain of what they want? As Victoria began to sing, we were blown away by the magnitude of the sound, filling each and every corner of the little old apartment in the Marais.

It wasn’t wild. No one screamed. No one danced. But it was enchanting, enveloping and softly soothing. Between each song, Victoria lowered the microphone to speak in French. Then the loops were relaunched, and the floor seemed to spin under each pair of crossed legs on the floor. Just music, magical, in a low light.