In this age of infinite content and obliterated attention spans, you simply cannot underestimate the value of a killer opening line. And the one that introduced In The Valley Below’s 2013 single, “Peaches,” didn’t just grab you by the lapels, it dug its fingernails into the skin underneath. “I’ve been working on my knees, baby, it’s alright,” Angela Gail sighed over Jeffrey Jacob’s gritty, rust-covered guitar groove and church-organ hum, instantly thrusting you into a sweaty scene reeking of desperation, sacrifice and doing whatever it takes to survive. But as the song stepped away from the campfire and into the nightclub en route to its ecstatic, synth-pumped chorus, it became clear that, for In The Valley Below, hardship and passion are two sides of the same coin—and that romance is the only defense against a world gone mad. “We won’t live too long,” the two defiantly sang in unison, “so let’s love for one song.” And for a moment there, that’s all In The Valley Below thought they had—that one shot to make it happen. Like so many musicians before them, Jeffrey (a Memphis native) and Angela (from Michigan) had moved to L.A. with the hopes of making it in the music biz. And after releasing “Peaches,” it seemed like that dream would have to remain just that—because, at the time, the couple were more preoccupied with another release: the arrival of their first child. But if “Peaches” was a pledge to love for just one fleeting song, it was a love that refused to die. Just when Jeffrey and Angela had made the difficult decision to prioritize family over pursuing fame, the offers started trickling in. A record deal with Capitol Records. Invitations to perform on Letterman and Conan. Remixes by Bloc Party’s Kele Okerke and Passion Pit. Tours with White Lies and the Cold War Kids, and festival dates at Austin City Limits. As late as 2016, a good three years after the song was first released, “Peaches” was still creeping into the Top 20 on the Billboard Alternative Songs Chart. But in the thick of fulfilling all their fantasies, Jeffrey and Angela opted to build a new reality for themselves, in a place far away from the beaches and palm trees. “We were living in Los Angeles, which is where we started the band,” Jeffrey recounts. “But we were touring so much, it was getting too crazy and we felt like we needed a little more breathing room when we came off the road. So we moved to Grand Rapids—Angela’s from this area, and we have family around to help us out.” According to the rock ‘n’ roll rulebook, domesticity is supposed to represent a death knell. But for In The Valley Below, it brought a renewed sense of freedom—thanks to the studio they built in their home. “It’s cold here,” Angela says, “so it forced us to go down to our basement to work on music. We don’t have to drive anywhere; we can record whenever we want and be as loud as we want. And we can do it in our underwear.” By the duo’s own admission, their second record, The Pink Chateau, isn’t so much a unified statement as a pared-down selection of the 20-odd songs they concocted at their home studio over the past few years in between tours and diaper changes. But collectively, the album puts lie to our preconceived notions of how environment influences music. There’s a tendency to conflate an artist’s sound with their surrounding geography—be it the sun-dappled serenity of ‘70s Laurel Canyon folk-rock or the industrial pallor of Manchester post-punk. But The Pink Chateau is proof you can make sexy, urbane, tropical pop music in a Michigan basement in the dead of winter. When the duo invite you to “drink champagne in the pink chateau” on the album’s seductively funky title track, the message is clear: paradise is wherever you want it to be. “The process was actually pretty similar to how we made our first record in L.A.,” Jeffrey observes. “We’ve always written, recorded, and produced everything ourselves.” Adds Angela, “Probably the biggest difference is we wrote the last album without playing any of the songs live first—but then we toured and realized what types of songs translate best in front of a crowd. Now, when we write songs, we have to think of how they’ll go over live.” But if the expansive, festival-ready sound of The Pink Chateau betrays a desire to connect with the back rows, lyrically, In The Valley Below are still dealing in unflinching intimacies. Amid the splendorous synths, stuttering drums and arena-rock shredding of “Hold on Tight,” Angela and Jeffrey serenade their young son, but eschew saccharine platitudes to dispense tough-love truths about the cruel world he’ll eventually inherit. “Break Even,” meanwhile, is a vivid, despairing portrait of a long-term relationship at the crossroads, the tension in the room amplified by the song’s jittery West African groove and austere ambient soundscape. And though the duo romp through the hand-clapped, electro-glam stomp of “Blue Sky Drugs” like a future-shocked Fleetwood Mac, the song’s sweet, soaring chorus is laced with a bitter sentiment. “We have our ups and downs, of course,” Angela says of her relationship with Jeffrey. “‘Blue Sky Drugs’ is our attempt at a happy song, but we just can’t write happy lyrics. We tried, and that’s what came out.” But despite the insular nature of both the album’s lyrics and recording process, the indignities and anxieties of the outside world couldn’t help but creep into the recordings. The strobe-lit synth pop of “Desperate Dance” reimagines “Welcome to the Jungle” as if it were written by New Order, its strip-club scenery providing the seedy, red-light backdrop to a tale of lost souls trying to survive in the big city. And then there’s the new-wave gospel banger “Bloodhands,” a meditation on race relations in America that reverberates with the aftershocks of the 2014 protests in Ferguson, Missouri: “We were shaking bloodhands,” the duo sing ominously, “when we promised we were brothers.” “It’s a challenge to write a song like that,” Angela admits. “We don’t want to be preachy, because we don’t know all the answers. All we can do is say something from our perspective. Racism is still an open wound and it breaks our heart.” It’s a heavy topic to address in the confines of a pop song—and an especially provocative move to force listeners to grapple with these discomfiting discussions while enticing them to sing and dance along. But just as they did with “Peaches” on their first album, In The Valley Below lure you in with a compelling opening line: “Ladies and gentlemen,” Angela coolly announces, “please step back, remain calm.” The difference this time, of course, is that instead of just welcoming you into their world, In The Valley Below are also redirecting our attention to the one falling apart around us—and providing shelter from the storm.