LOS ANGELES, CA-
“…A year prior to This Ain’t No Picnic, I sat in a small apartment in Paris, France, nursing the hangover from an ocular migraine and saturated in memories from three years earlier. Beach House played in the background and in that moment, my enjoyment of the band was tattooed into a love for them. They had sung to the ineffable melancholy that sat in the room as the clock ticked towards, and then past, midnight. Seeing them live for the first time felt like a kind of closure to a year of hard lessons.
The band was silhouetted behind a colorful LED screen that played out pinks and blues to the music. They never once emerged from their embodied darkness, as if saying, No, no, it is the music that is important, not us. It gave the performance a kind of memorizing ambiance that simultaneously relaxed and energized the crowd. After a bit of searching, I finally found a good seat above a sand trap overlooking the right side of the stage. As the band began playing Space Song towards the end of the show, the crowd grew more animated and swayed back and forth, hugging each other, as if trying to hang on to the last ounce of the concert before it was over…”
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