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Cheers to the guy with the At-The-Drive-In-style ‘fro who stood way up front at last night’s Beach House show at the Rock And Roll Hotel. My cranially hirsute comrade set the tone: He wasn’t the priestess or priest of the event — those titles belonged to Beach House’s Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally—but Fro Dude was the deacon. He did a lot of attentive nodding, but it wasn’t obnoxious. I’d call him “mildly ecstatic.”

I spent about two-thirds of the show with my eyes shut, but not because I was tired or drunk. About three or four songs into Beach House’s set, I looked at Fro Dude and I thought, “I bet that guy has his eyes closed. I’m gonna close my eyes.” It was the best way to enjoy the show: Legrand’s voice and keys were on the right side, Scally’s guitaring was on the left side, and lots of reverb stitched it all together. Somebody was triggering prerecorded dumbeats. Nobody was taking cameraphone pictures. Nobody was chattering loudly at the bar. It was a perfectly agreeable setting for smallish, icy-sweet garage rock songs.

(And cheers to opening act Papercuts: The lead guy in the band reminds me a little bit of Brother J.T., and the songs remind me a little of the Rock*A*Teens. The rhythm section is tight, too. I got there too late to hear the other openers, Tiny Vipers. Apologies.)