By Leah Greenblatt
Updated November 11, 2010 at 07:58 PM EST
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This year’s Endless Summer award for for special achievements in garage-pop revivalism has probably already gone to L.A.’s Best Coast, a band who bled from the blogosphere to Billboard’s Top 40 album chart in July, and have been comfortably ensconced in the iPod shuffles of baristas and Urban Outfitters visual merchandisers ever since.

I’m smitten, though, with married Denver duo Tennis, recently signed to Fat Possum and due to tour this winter with labelmates the Walkmen.

In place of Best Coast’s stoned Trapper Keeper lyrics about weed, boyfriends and cats, Tennis’s crisp, finger-snappy ditties drag sweet surf jangle into the fresh open air. (Literally: Pat Riley and wife Alaina Moore, above, spent eight months sailing the North Atlantic, writing songs along the way).

Listen to the duo’s calling card “Marathon,” a song that sounded merely delicious on a summer mixtape, but feels like a shot of pure sunshine serotonin in the dark slog of post-Daylight Savings November:

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