Cerulean Salt does not feel like an album that came into existence as a series of digital files in 2013. It feels like a dusty tape recovered from an old attic box, hand-labeled and covered in near-indecipherable scrawl, a relic of a past relationship or a postcard from harder times. It feels like a hand reaching out of the past to grab you, to hug you, to remind you of that old fragility that you once felt, that you probably still sometimes feel. Part of that is the music: A fuzzed-out but lighter-than-air strain of ’90s indie-pop with a singer whose luminous tone doesn’t keep her from conversational confessions. But Cerulean Salt isn’t retro in any of those obvious ways. Instead, it drips with that you’re-a-mess-and-so-am-I feeling that, for many of us, perfectly defined and encapsulated our early 20s. If you still remember that era vividly, a listen to the album feels like a spin through time. And if you’re in that era — or if you’re about to experience it — I can’t imagine what it must do to you. –Tom [LISTEN]