Summer songs have simple blueprints, syndicated by open windows in June; winter's about bells, strings, and digital sounds, anything with a sharp edge; spring's pretty simple if you start with a seed. Autumn, though, that's a tougher proposition. Those records are few and far between, and worth all the more for it. Beach House aren't called that for the same reason the Beach Boys are, but rather to evoke the desolation of the season after. I'm no synaesthetic but this stuff pretty much screams amber, orange, translucence, and late-October trembles, and I'll be glad to have it in my life over the next couple of months.