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Just like the name Violent Femmes was a play on the combination of tonal opposites (masculine and feminine, brash and withdrawn), so is the title of Tangerine's latest EP, Radical Blossom. The title dredges up images of beauty mingling with outspoken spirit, which does well to sum up Tangerine's brand of sweet-and-salty indie pop. Once again, lead singer Marika Justad's angelic coos are placed front and center, while the rest of the band supplies a muscular backbone to these songs of love and wonder.

Opener “Feel This Way” is instantly a winner, its warbly guitars mingling with Justad's swooning voice, evoking that kind humid sunset walk with the certain someone who gives your stomach butterflies. The peppy chorus of “Hanford Riviera” is reminiscent of classic girl groups like the Ronettes and the Shangri-Las. “Mars,” with its slide guitar, flirts with light country, while closer “The Runner” is all momentum and gleeful indie rock 'n' roll.

Despite his utilization of charmingly lo-fi drum machine beats, Trevor Dickson's thoughts are clearly turned back to the '60s, to baroque folk rock bands like the Left Banke, the Kinks, the Hollies, and Zombies, just to name a few. The inimitable frontman of synth-pop band the Nightgowns and psychedelic-mish-mash band the Elephants has emerged with the Summer Legs solo EP as a harmony-driven troubadour. 

As usual, Dickson's distinctive croon is still a defining characteristic, as well as his swooning and silly lyrics, calling to mind similarly melodic eccentrics like Harry Nilsson and the Magnetic Fields' Stephin Merritt. Through Summer Legs, Dickson has established himself as a consummate singer-songwriter, brought to bear in vivid relief by the bedroom pop nature of the album. Once more, Dickson proves himself to be as reliably consistent as he is pleasantly unexpected. 

The title track is instantly immersive, bringing you into Trevor Dickson's world of sun-drenched afternoons spent leisurely drifting in cars and boats in a dreamy haze. “Carry the Stone” is classic Trevor Dickson—a Magnetic Fields-esque song of heartache and escape, which segues nicely into the woozy organs of the brief, affecting “John, You're Hairy.” As an album closer, you couldn't ask for more than the joyous “Oh My One,” whose boisterous percussion and hysterical handclaps lend light and levity to the albums last moments. 

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In late 2012, Tangerine came into contact with Swoon Records. Though they were still a young band, Tangerine were ready to record their first EP—in fact, they managed to lay down all four tracks over the course of one weekend in the studios of Swoon Records. This lends a certain sense of immediacy to Pale Summer. From the first, thumping bass lines and galloping guitar on opener “Clarence,” Tangerine set a lively tone that carries into the sunny, tremulous “Lying in the Yard.” “Dreadful” finds Tangerine most explicitly exploiting their sweet-and-salty side, Marika Justad's sugary voice ringing out over a crunching backbone of fuzzy guitars. Album closer “Lake City” sounds like a performance from a long-lost Midnight Special episode—dark, romantic, and lonely, a dance floor cleared of all but the most melancholy extras.

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