Stage left the music wafts over a sea of swaying heads- like cattails signaling relief from the summer heat. Stage right, the vibe is dynamic. Some folks are moved to effect a slight shuffle, maybe a subtle bob. Three girls are twirling whirling dervishes, others throwin’ bows like strolling at a Ludacris show.
Washed Out is crafting an individualized dreamscape for each of us in attendance at The Plaza Live Orlando. There is an ethereal quality to the sounds of multi-instrumentalist, vocalist, producer, mastermind Ernest Greene. His songs are equally suited to soundtrack reading a book as they are for making love or falling asleep.
The music creates an atmosphere that can be personalized for the consumer, which translates to an immersive live show. Three guys perched in front of a projection screen are the engine driving our immersion in a dream at The Plaza Live Orlando. Each of us is consumed by our own trance.
A trio of guys create sounds for the masses- sounds repurposed for individual needs. Calypso and other island influences are peppered throughout the set. Hip hop, dance, trance, and rock all make an appearance. Guitar, drums, and synth each take the wheel at different points. The atmosphere of each dream leads the movement of each being.
Images flash on a screen behind the players. Their visages are obscured as if they too are immersed in a fantasy world, one which would lose its wonder if prolonged beyond the comfortable limit of our attention span. The projections are congruent, yet emotionally covert. They enhance the dream without dictating what our adventure should look like.
Dream too long and you get stuck there. Or worse, life outside the womb of fantasy feels dull and unimaginative. Live in a dream for just the right amount of time, an hour or so, and existence outside the dream bursts with color and inflection.
Washed Out walks off The Plaza Live stage, the house lights bleed on, and the dream comes to an end about an hour after it began. We would feel cheated at a rock show. Here, we are grateful.
We’re thankful for getting lost in our own dreamscape as curated by Washed Out. Thankful for the hues we notice, perhaps for the first time, maybe the first in a long while. Appreciative of octaves previously elusive to our ear, now plainly apparent as if they were there all along… awaiting our emergence from slumber.
Washed Out Live Review by Jason Earle.
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