From a cursory survey of its beaming major-key melodies, swirling synth tones, and drum machine chatter dipped in dubby reverb, it would be easy to slot Nocturne of Exploded Crystal Chandelier with prevailing indie trends, slap on few a "RIYL"s, and leave it to the listener to decide whether or not to move on. But should it matter that Philadelphia duo Sun Airway wrote most of these songs long before the release of Merriweather Post Pavilion? In this case, I'd say it does: A lot of current acts working in a similar vein intrigue through potential and seem to have a better grasp on how to adopt still-fresh influences than they do on songwriting. But Sun Airway invert that balance, radiating warmth instead of sounding warped by it. They've created a sturdy album of electronic pop gems that just happens to have great timing.
What's most immediately striking is the tone of Jon Barthmus' vocals. We've become used to a certain kind of boyish, longing yelp accompanying this sort of sound. While Barthmus employs a gleaming falsetto when the time is right, his voice has more in common with the kind of everydude croon linked with turn-of-the-century garage rock. It furthers the idea that the crisp and purposeful melodies of the landlocked road anthem "American West" and the endlessly corkscrewing vocal lead of "Waiting on You" would be every bit as potent supported by wood and string as they would by electronics. That said, Nocturne benefits from the compositional freedom of samplers. "Oh, Naoko" triangulates the swooning sustain of shoegaze, a near-dancehall riddim, and the unabashed gushing of post-Fugazi emo, all leading into a monster chorus.
A little less artful is "Shared Piano", which strips the "Ebony and Ivory" metaphor of its racial connotations and flips it into a brood on a disintegrating relationship. Catchy as they are, it might be a tough sell if you're not as much into mash-note lyricism, but it's heartening when a "bedroom pop" album acknowledges its creation space as a place for romance and not just retreat.
Which is why a line like, "I wish we could be swallowed by the sky," is a good summation for when Sun Airway slip up-- they benefit more from economy than overload (overproduction also haunted their former band, A-Sides). Particularly during the second half, perfectly legible melodies ascend ever upward into unnecessary cumulus clouds of echo. But those are minor quibbles-- whether you think the mainstreaming of Person Pitch was the worst thing to happen to current indie, or you're hoping the deadbeat summer remains endless, it shouldn't apply to Sun Airway, who crafted a mature and confident collection of alternate-reality singles far less common than its sound might initially imply.
