On The Blue Swell, Brooklyn duo Beverly has guitars that tumble, froth and curl like waves. But the closest singer Drew Citron gets to cooling off is sipping a blue Slurpee outside 7-Eleven. “I still think you do/The things that we would talk about in the parking lot,” she sings on the dreamy “Victoria,” co-written by Kip Berman from The Pains of Being Pure at Heart. “Tonight I’m still a total wreck thinking about you.” The indie rock band’s second LP is full of walkin’-after-midnight moments like these.
“You Used To Be A Good Girl,” a song about a lost teen, is fast as hallway gossip: “Whatever happened to Drew and Jessie, Penelope and the rest of them?” Citron chirps. Based on the sugary chorus and ominous circumstances, it sounds like she took off with a cult called the Shangri-Las and is never going home anymore. On “Bulldozer,” Citron’s feathery alto recalls Helium’s Mary Timony over careening punk guitars, and she grows numb in the Beach House-meets-Heart jam “South Collins,” setting the hangover table with the evocative phrase, “Black tie sunrise.”
The gushing, melodic songs on Swell pile up like the wild fantasies Citron concocts hanging out after everyone else is slumped over the bar. That’s when she can be alone with her dark impulses (“Lake House”) and secret crushes (“You Said It”) – the quiet rebellions of a good egg.