It still feels like a dream. Teen Daze at Levontin 7 last night, the music making and remaking us as we dance. Time and distance fade, a basement room is the universe, art and technology in an endless dance. The computer is a vast repository of sound, voice is an instrument, body is an instrument; sound and movement are one. In a black T shirt, hair pulled back, body and mind in the music, Teen Daze created an imaginary place made of sound. He took us there, riding on the waves, feeling the landscape through closed eyes, images swirling in the air, feeling the beats.
Levontin 7 was the last stop on his tour, and I suppose by now, Teen Daze is back in British Columbia, surrounded by trees and snow. So glad he came to Tel Aviv! You might think that electronic music is something that is just as good through headphones, but then you’ll be missing out on that mysterious synergy that can happen live…
Last night was an amazing evening, awakening all senses to something sweet. My compliments on the sound, which was crystalline, and lights – which were the perfect backup band to the Teen Daze dance of sound.
Surrounded by blue lights, Helfer opened with unearthly sounds, coming from far away, dancing with a mallet in his hand. Then the blue turned to red, the colors changed and everything began to heat up as he sang.
Teen Daze creates music that makes me believe in physics, songs that release a thousand butterflies in the air to create chaos. Colors float in the dark like myriad questions, and you can just fly on that cloud of colors, as he dances in a cage of light. There is such an easy way about him as he moves onstage, sings in the voice of a dream. Teen Daze creates a kaleidoscope of sound that made me want to dance forever (and maybe some people did, since there was an after-show at Radio EPGB, but I really needed to wake up this morning). The concert ended with the perfect song, he chose Morning World for his encore: “Should I drift back into a dream?” Yes, drift back into a loop of endless pleasure and possibility.
