Better Times

I've never really understood hammocks. I just don't find them very comfortable. I can't float on my back in the pool, I sink straight away. If it's a bright sunny day on the beach, I'll be inside, pacing around for no real reason. When I go on holiday I power around every single day and get off the plane back home completely exhausted. Relaxation is a foreign concept to me.

Even the music that I love can't sit still. All shaky hand-claps, wired whelping and a tweak rocker shuffle. Anxious Allistair & The ADHD All-Stars. So what kind of Ritalin would I have to be popping to stick up a picture of a dream-pop album. Surely it's just white noise to me. A 50 minute confusion that does not compute. But there it is, Teen Dream by Beach House.

Well, it turns out I can relax. It just takes the musical equivalent of T-Rex tranquiliser to do it.

And suddenly, I understand. You incense weirdos were onto something all along. Teen Dream is my only introduction but it's enough to make me want to sell all my clothes, pack a tennis raquet case full of wine and go find a Mexican beach to sleep on. Matthew is a tired concept. From now on you can call me Alejandro. Antonio Banderas will play me in the film about my life. Beach House will provide the soundtrack. Everything will be in slow motion, it's gonna be great you should totally go see it.

For all you jittery types: don't take my splendid summer comedown lightly. If you value your twitcher habits then you have to stay the hell away from this album. It will give you a tropical hammocking you won't soon forget. You could wake up in a silent snowy forest, or a Japanese zen temple.

And you will love it. You have been warned.