Like so many indie rockers looking for a perfectly beatific dance-floor escape from stiff riffs and wipe-me yelps, this Barcelona foursome’s version of clubby bliss has an unrequited tinge. The morning-after descent always haunts the moony ascent. But on palpitating pas de deux like “Stay Close” and “Grow,” the drum programming and synth ripples are so lithely calibrated (shades of late-90s tech house) that they massage the heartsick, pitchshifted coos just so. Like LCD Soundsytem chillaxing in a beach chaise, Delorean integrate live-band and studio-geek chops so you never wonder where the acupressure bass lines originated.
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