The Harbour, My Home

The Harbour, My Home

The debut from Next Stop: Horizon, We Know Exactly Where We Are Going, was a delightful patchwork of oddball pop, from which wafted fumes of a carnival haze and the boozy aroma of late-night cabaret. On The Harbour, My Home, the Swedish duo of Jenny Roos and Pär Hagström continue into a dreamland of multitextured cinematic excursions: the bluesy, dive-bar slow dance of “Something Rare and Something Fine” unfurls like sleepy blue smoke at dawn, just before “Rain on Me” wakes up the senses, like an unexpected spring shower, with a rousing, revival tent–worthy fire-and-brimstone energy. Hallelujah. The rest of The Harbour swings and flows from one mood to another, but the gentle vocals of Roos alongside Hagström’s husky tones and the presence of glockenspiels, clarinets, and harmoniums thread the songs together into a captivating tapestry. It makes sense that the duo lived and worked in Germany for several months and also collaborated on theater and other projects; this isn't American indie pop, but something that feels richer and has deeper roots, brewed in a bigger melting pop.