Music described as “tropical pop” rarely gets the “weird” tag as well. No one wants to visit a beach with fine green sand and a lifesize umbrella in your cocktail, right? Álauda makes that leap. She has no press release or artist information, but for once, it’s better that way: it’s up to us to imagine the sort of place a song like “Cyan Water” could come from. Its sunny sounds are oil-slicked with a bizarre substance that transforms benign Ace of Base proto-reggae like it’s been blasted with like Fukushima radiation. Our singer cha-cha’s with Bjork’s giddiness over the surface, yet another uncanny thing in a coast full of them.