came out, critics and fans alike sat up—or maybe laid back—and took notice, because it represented a vast maturation of the duo’s sound. What had been a cloistered, claustrophobic dreamscape—two musicians wrapped up in the fragility of their youth, their licks, and their vocals—blossomed into a lush, dreamy, and almost orchestral kind of softness. Though the dream might have been teen, it sounded mature and fresh, like those moments when actual teenagers remind you of things you’ve long forgotten by saying them slightly differently. The droney swoops and pulsing keys drew on everything from girl groups to the Velvet Underground to the Jesus and Mary Chain to Mazzy Star and late-model Flaming Lips, without sounding like any of them. Legrand’s husky vocals were swooning, sexy, and yet somewhat androgynous, and Scally’s guitars and synths wrapped them in the perfect mix of fuzz and shimmer, the sonic equivalent of combat boots under a retro-swanky evening gown with a few perfectly placed rips.