Real Estate's debut album is like a cold, rainy day from the vantage point beneath a warm blanket. The fabric is soft, with edging that practically demands you softly stroke the back of your index and middle fingers across the surface so that you might appreciate the smooth, silken fibers. It's homemade, and this quality strengthens the appeal, and triggers memories of worn paths winding through woods in Autumn, hands securely tucked into pockets. The overall mood is subdued but not melancholy. Snaky and melodic guitar lines wind around supple bass tones buoyed by tasteful, understated drumming, and a midtempo, chiming jangle is as intense as the album gets. Gently reverbed vocals hang towards the back of the midground, complementing the sleepy vibe of the music. I had never heard the album when I bought it, and as I walked home after midnight I took a wrong step and fell four or five feet onto concrete, instinctively clutching the record to protect it and breaking my collarbone in the process. I remain happy that I managed to save the record from damage. Had the album arms, it would have done the same for me.