The Cake Shop serves coffee, tea, and an assortment of alcoholic beverages, but no Kool Aid. And yet, a post-show sidewalk eavesdropper would’ve been right to ask if we’d all just drank a gallon of the sugary goodness, ’cause it was nothing but raves, toasts, and superlatives for this dreamy Baltimore duo. We’d taken a pass through their self-titled debut a few months back and enjoyed, but weren’t expecting the hazed, autumnal pop purveyed in spades at last night’s show to sweep us into silly, gooey puddles of appreciation.
And this was a perfect match of band to venue; in every way, Cake Shop is where Beach House belonged. The naturally occurring yellows and browns in the room’s walls and artwork match the color scheme conjured by Beach House’s cover art, and the golden hue of the stringed lights gave a narcotic glow that fit the lush and dopey feel of the band’s surreal keyboard tones and arpeggios; their simple, plodding rhythm-sample triggers; and the reverb-drenched guitars and vox. It’s one mood writing, for sure — but it’s a mood well suited to dreamers, lovers, and druggies of all shapes and sizes. And if you’re a dreaming drug-lover, then fuck, buy this record ASAP; this is the soundtrack to your life, dude.