The first 34 seconds of "Lazuli", off of the upcoming Bloom, retell Beach House's story as a band in miniature. The song begins with a muzzy, coughing-ant drum-machine puff and a tiny music-box synth tone-- the same musty, dimly lit, cramped musical space their first two albums fit into, a place lit by candles but untouched by fresh air. Then, after a slow cymbal wash, the colors come flooding in, a sunburst that overwhelms every inch of space, like kicking your way out of a stuffy closet into a cool stone cathedral. "Lazuli" is a forceful, overwhelming reminder of the world Beach House discovered on 2010's Teen Dream, one that hovers in the air, glowing and benevolent, like a giant Rothko painting. It's gratifying just to be near it.
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