There’s no doubt about it, Beach House is having one hell of a run, and Depression Cherry (Sub Pop Records) continues the group’s streak of hitting the target right in the tiny spot marked “the same, still good, just a little different.” The expansion from Teen Dream to Myth was significant and sounded like a band letting their imaginations run wild (as wild as a slowcore/dream-pop band gets). The change from Myth to Depression Cherry is probably best described as contraction. It’s like an introvert waking up after a big night out and realizing she needs some alone time. If Phillip Glass wrote anxious love songs, they might sound like the album opener “Levitation.” After the organ changes settle in, the song spends five minutes accruing minuscule alterations, then spends the next minute reversing the effect through subtle subtractions. “Sparks” lifts of with a hook reminiscent of Panda Bear then layers on the most grating guitar hook in Beach House’s catalog. It’s a pretty song underpinned with more than a little uneasiness. Most of the album follows this design: establishing a pretty pattern, then adding layers to kink it off-center. The only expansion here is the occasional experimenting with new sounds; about every other song features something new to the band’s sonic glossary. Halfway through the record what’s most surprising is how the band restrains themselves from altering the game plan. At times (hear “10:37”), the goal seems to be to do as little as possible while still getting the point across.

Befitting an album called Depression Cherry, there are a lot of lyrics about disappearing, hiding, drifting away, and building cities in your head. The opening seconds of “Bluebird” sound just like subconscious construction. Of course, all these sad-sack notions find their foil in Victoria Legrand’s tender, nearly whispered vocals. She’s edgier and more alienating on other records, but this time around she sticks to invitations. This method is epitomized on “Days of Candy.” Not only is Legrand practically cooing “these days of candy live in your mind,” she does so with a melody fit for a boarding school boy’s choir (and the harmonies are there, too). This is what nostalgia sounds like.