Like an unexpected summer breeze arriving from out of nowhere in the cruel, dark moments of February, White Birds’ When Women Played Drums hints that there are brighter days ahead while also reminding us of the painful beauty of heartbreak. This fragile, evocative debut from the young quartet out of Philadelphia is a blend of sunny California surf pop and the more heady, restrained instrumentation of Grizzly Bear. And while White Birds’ ethereal songs maintain a hushed subtlety throughout the entirety of their self-released album, the band still manage to stir up plenty of raw emotions and tender moments, guiding the listener close to the melancholy edge of understanding without ever truly revealing what exactly beats at the (broken) heart of their often inscrutable material.

Three members of White Birds were in the budding Philly band Drink Up Buttercup, and while they have taken a far different stylistic direction with their new band the intimate, deeply affecting music is given an added depth by the unguarded familiarity between the bandmates themselves. For these clearly are not the type of honest, vulnerable songs you generate with relative strangers. There are plenty of lush, fully-formed numbers threaded throughout the album, but there are also moments (‘Veins Lined With Rust’) which sound more like the rough demos of a band still searching for the perfect way to capture the intense feelings that sparked the songs to life.

That dichotomy is evident on the grand opening number, ‘No Sun,’ whose title alone clues you in to the dark recesses that colour all of these songs, while the track is nevertheless buoyed by a sprightly melody and the reassuring chiming of bells. There is both light and darkness imbued in this song, and where it takes you in the end depends on what type of day you are having. ‘Hondora’ continues the strong start, with mournful, soaring harmonies reminiscent of Fleet Foxes mixed with the relaxed, euphonious elegance of the Beach Boys.

Lead singer James Harvey’s plaintive, high-pitched vocals consistently float above the jaunty melodies, despite the rather heavy subject matter of the songs themselves. Tracks like ‘Floating Hands,’ ‘Bee Hive,’ and ‘Mirrors In Mirrors’ all pulse with heartache and sorrow, but are offset nicely by luxurious arrangements which add a sense of optimism to the doleful material, leaving the listener balancing tenuously between genuine feelings of anguish and radiance.

The slowly-simmering gracefulness of the title track kicks off a glorious four-song run that closes out the record in style. ‘When Women Played Drums’ indeed features an ominous, spare rhythm set by drummer Mike Cammarata that gradually gives way to the majestic chorus that is one of the many highlights of this vulnerable but wholly cathartic album. ‘Body When You Coming Back’ is part hymn, part anthem, the song gradually growing from a ghostly choir singing in the candle-lit church to a rousing, stadium singalong complete with lighters in the air as the number fitfully draws to a close.

‘Veins Lined With Rust’ only hints at what the track could be when performed live, but still manages to stop you in your tracks, despite some rather simplistic production. The churning closing number ‘Youths’ is indicative of the growth that occurred during the writing and recording of When Women Played Drums, as the group left behind the puerile but still painful concerns of their younger days as they matured and moved on from their grief-laden past. If only heartbreak always sounded this sweet, it wouldn’t sting nearly as much.