The next day, the duo premiere their latest single, “Sparks”, live on SiriusXMU. It’s a moment of celebration, so shots of Patron feel more than appropriate in the studio. A taped interview follows, during which Legrand and I kill a bottle of white. Nursing an Amstel, Scally watches his bandmate struggle to articulate the overarching themes of Depression Cherry, their forthcoming fifth album. As she grasps for more concrete language, it’s as if the words to describe her creative state of mind simply do not exist. If they did, she’d use them—Legrand isn’t trying to be aloof or mysterious, qualities often attributed to Beach House’s music and members—and she admits as much. Legrand is, perhaps above all, a warm and wise person, in a mother nature kind of way. She’s the type who will squeeze your shoulders or call you sweetheart after a single conversation. Scally, in comparison, is defined by his genuine curiosity: He often counters questions with more questions in an effort to find common ground.

Scally earnestly backs up his bandmate as she struggles to come up with soundbite-ready explanations of Beach House’s music in the Sirius studio, but a week later, over lunch at a Baltimore pub called The Dizz, he brings up the awkward moment again out of the blue.

“Was that interview insane?” he asks. “I was wasted because I was so stressed out all day. I felt like we were veering off into nonsense.” We start retracing one anecdote about the genesis of a new song called “10:37”, a stretched-tape homage to toy soldier drum beats and a subject who casts no shadow.

“How do you describe that in language without sounding completely abstract and out-of-your-mind?” Legrand asks. “That’s how most moments of creativity feel—you almost can’t not use far-out language.”

“When you try to describe your creative moments, you veer off into a very unintelligible place of nonsense,” Scally says to her. “Because describing a moment of creativity is impossible.”

“Well, what am I supposed to say? I really don’t give a shit.” Legrand says this like she does, in fact, give a substantial shit.

“I almost think it’s not worth talking about because it’s so hard to articulate,” Scally offers in a consoling tone.

“All right, then I just won’t answer questions,” Legrand shoots back. “You can answer them.”

“That’s not what I was saying.”

“I know it’s not.”

Legrand then turns to me and adds, “He basically said I was unintelligible. I could be mildly offended by that—it doesn’t feel good when your partner tells you that you’re nonsense, but it’s the truth.”

“It’s not that,” Scally says, trying to dig himself out. “It’s just that I watch you go down these roads in your brain trying to be truthful, but there’s no concise answer.”

“It’s a lot easier to just feel it,” Legrand decides, already over it.

Consider this approach Beach House’s overall philosophy—and perhaps why their music taps into the subconscious so well. Over the course of several interviews, Scally repeatedly talks about how he believes musicians serve as mediums; Legrand poses questions like, “Are artists fearless hunter-gatherers of the energy that people need?” But for all the vibe talk, they definitely don’t take themselves too seriously. Minutes after emphasizing words like “clairvoyance” and “fate” when discussing their bond, they’ll start arguing over the validity of Burning Man’s lore of Jiffy Lube sex tents.

However, they are dead serious when they tell me they have little reason to speak to each other while writing music, and that’s been the case since they penned their first song together, “Saltwater”, 10 years ago. “Trance is a big part of our thing,” Scally says. “A trance-y energy is how we write, and it's not a drug thing. We'll repeat a part for three hours while we wait for the next piece to fall into place.”

Beach House: "Saltwater" (via SoundCloud)

“Every song is going on this trip: What does it want?” Legrand adds. “It is mystical, but it's such a part of our existence.”

I straight-up ask Legrand if she’s into hippie shit. “I don’t know what I’m into, man,” she shrugs, before adding that a friend gave her five crystals, which she keeps in a velvet pouch and cherishes dearly. Scally and I can’t help but laugh, and you know, neither can Legrand.