More than she's ever been, Correa is in her element in the dream-pop of Pleides.
As a solo artist, or as half of the folk duo Les Shelleys with Tom Brosseau, Angela Correa has a sweet and arresting voice. It's got an immediate tunefulness, but there's bit of shadow to it, this hint in each note that she's not giving everything away, that there's a secret in her words. That shadow comes out all the better as she heads her band, Corrreatown. The gauzy layers of dream pop here -- from the humming guitar work on "Valparaiso" to the ringing pianos and dramatic strings on "Sunset and Echo" -- feels like a natural extension of her voice. Where it blurs beautifully at the edges, this music knits itself to her and expands in every direction. Even a slower number like "La Serena", where Correa's voice rises and thins to a papery keen, blooms with sound at every turn. The album may slip into its own dream world a bit in the middle, swaying in its own layers sometimes (on, say, "Shine Right Through") so that it falls into a lull instead of a compelling dreamscape, but then there's the jangling rock of "Play" to jolt you back to life. Correa long ago established that she was a singular and striking vocal talent, and with Pleides her band proves itself the most fitting foundation for that voice. Correa is in her element in this dream-pop world, more than she's ever been, but she's still not giving away those secrets.