There won't be another Postal Service record, the delicate opening keyboards of James and Evander's single, "Constellating" informs us. A bubbling - and here, I mean figuratively, like watching carbonation work its way up the side of a glass - analog synth progression enters second, as the advance guard of a swelling arrangement, thudding drums, and one of those glittering second movements that are the raison d'etre of electro pop. This is the Oakland duo's first foray into making music with lyrics, in this case regarding human connections, all these invisible threads so easily forgotten. And here we assume they've divined their title, a cosmic connect-the-dots, taking individual balls of incandescent gas and forging them into shapes; one of those silly and desperately important projects that we carefully practice losing after our youth.
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