Plectrumelectrum (2014)
Although the lyrics describe a sleepless train ride, the sparkling yet soporific beat sways like a nomadic camel journey into the Land of Nod. A baby-monitor melody twinkles over the lulling effects of Hannah’s vocals and Ida’s bass, and the resulting feeling is one of all-enveloping, loving security – like when you’re six and going on holiday, being carried from your bed in the middle of the night towards the warmed-up, waiting car, briefly waking in your parent’s arms to see them beaming down through gentle shushes which drift you back off into blissful, womb-like sleep. A lumbering, slumbering two-man chariot of unconditional love. How many rock albums can you say give that feeling? Of course the lyrics describe the opposite. Heartbreak. Loss. Pain. But they just heighten the protective musical embrace. It can be a nasty and brutish Hobbesian world out there so lets surrender to these sheltering moments of comfort, letting the plaintive words fall close, like rain on tent fabric.