Anatomy of a Pretty Lights Show

A month later: reflections on the best show of my life #

First, some background #

I’m still a bit surprised at how few people are aware of this musician. Pretty Lights is just one guy: Derek Vincent Smith. Frankly, I only discovered him about a year ago, compliments of my more musically-aware friend Brandon. At first, I was a bit unsure. I’m still unsure what to call the genre. Wikipedia calls it “American electronic music”, but then says that Smith considers his music as “Electro Hip-Hop Soul”. I think this is pretty accurate. The music is an eclectic mix of soul & hip hop samples, rich, thick synths and fantastic break beats that form evolving grooves that (for the most part) do not grow tiring (unlike a lot of other “electronic” music I’ve heard in the past).

Whatever you want to call it, his music is – at times – astonishing. His use of dynamic range is never found in contemporary music, because most peoples’ car stereos can’t properly reproduce the range. But this music isn’t like most other music. You can download all his music for free on his website.

The Setup #

So my buddy Brandon had just come back from Outside Lands music festival. He had a helluva time there; saw many of his favorite artists. But to hear him tell it, one in particular stole the show.

Brandon: Duuuuude. Pretty Lights was SO AMAZING ALL ON MY FACE. You don’t even understand.

Me: Umm. OK. I wasn’t there, so I guess I don’t.

Brandon: Man. We gotta go see him. You will be like: [screws up face in ecstasy].

So I did some research. Dang. Pretty Lights wasn’t scheduled to do a show in the Bay Area. But my friends and I were due for a man trip, so I looked at some of the other locations. Reno? Meh. Florida? Could be fun. Portland? YES. Never been to Portland, and I’ve always wanted to eat a chicken that has papers.

The Journey #

My two best friends (Brandon and Mashama) and I boarded a plane to take what would become a spiritual journey through Portland to musical mecca.

So there we were in Portland. The food was awesome, the people were friendly. The weather was FREEZING cold. Also: shout out to my new Portland friend Colin! You rock bud.

Saturday night we made our way to the venue, which was an arena with a capacity of 14,000. I was told they weren’t quite sold out that night, one of the staff said he thought there were only around 10,000 in attendance.

10 thousand?? Good lord. I don’t generally like crowds. They make me uncomfortable. There’s no way I’ll be able to win them all over with my charming wit! THERE ARE JUST TOO MANY OF THEM!

Also, I couldn’t help but notice who was in attendance. It was a lot of… kids. Like, young kids. It was kind of freaking me out. Who allows their children go to some giant crazy show like this, all unsupervised? Also, everyone was dressed like fairies or big cats or like neon highlighters had regurgitated their wardrobe. I was starting to get judgy. And I was starting to second-guess my own choice to attend. Did I make a huge mistake? Should I have just dismissed one of my best friends and skipped this whole to-do so I could remain safe and warm at home?

Just as I was having my doubts, I turned to Mashama with what must have been a look of trepidation. He looks back at me and says, “Steve, we may have crossed a line that we possibly shouldn’t have. We may have gone too far.”

I agreed with him, but it was too late now. I decided to just make the best of the situation. I decided to quit judging these kids and moreover their parents. What did I know, anyway? Maybe this is a totally appropriate event for these kids.

We got a tiny bit to eat to hopefully stave off the massive amounts we imbibed earlier and headed to the dance floor. The opener was well under way, but the dance floor was maybe only half full. The opening act was cool, but I really wasn’t feeling it. I was kind of starting to feel sick (possibly from the afore-mentioned imbibing). I was also exhausted from our full day exploring Portland, and I was still hungry.

This is how most people experience a concert, I think. You’re fully immersed in yourself. How close can you get to the stage? Why does that weird guy keep bumping into you when he’s dancing? Does that cute girl over there see you? Can you make it to the bar and back without missing your favorite song? And so on. Totally centered on yourself, with maybe a little bit of “oop – didn’t mean to step on that guy’s toe” thrown in for good measure. And I was well into this way of thinking when two guys came by dressed mostly in glow sticks.

Glowstick guy: Hey!! Have some glowsticks!!

Me: Huh? …oh. Hey! Thanks!

Glowstick guy: don’t forget the little connectors!

This simple act of kindness really broke me out of my self-centered reverie, and the amazingness of what was going on around me started to sink in. Everyone was there to share in this experience together, and many of the people were going out of their way to make sure the folks next to them were having an awesome time.

There were guys doing what Brandon called “light shows” (no, I’ve never been to a rave before, OK? Give me a break). These guys had gloves on that had strobing LEDs in the finger tips. They would come up to you and make the lights dance all around your face. Some of them were even better than the YouTube clip I linked to. It really struck me how much time and effort these folks must have put in to get these devices and then get good at using them, all so they could enhance strangers’ experiences at shows.

There were people dancing around with these crazy glowing tendrils that looked eery and cool. There were people who had brought balloons to bounce around the audience which were curiously loads of fun to punch back into the cavernous stadium. There were probably a few other ways that people had enhanced my experience that have escaped my memory.

And I gotta say that’s pretty awesome. And it’s a lot more than I could say for most concerts I’ve been to. The effort that my fellow concert-goers had put into having a good time – and helping me have a good time – was really unique and over the course of the night, it elevated this from “a concert” to “an experience”.

But i was still feeling a bit iffy (stomach- and comfort-wise).

Then Pretty Lights came on #

The music started softly. Analog samples of crooning soul tugged at my heart. He quickly layers in synths and body-shaking bass to form lush, intricate soundscapes that combined with lasers cutting through streams from fog machines. The music builds until the proverbial beat dropped, and I didn’t know what hit me.

All my feelings went out the window. I had no choice. I had to boogie. It was like PL was a musical evil genius and we were all his puppets. #

And all he wanted to do was make his puppets dance. #

And dance we did. If “dance” were a natural resource, we exhausted it that night. I danced and I danced. I boogied with friends, I boogied with strangers. It didn’t matter that I was previously hungry, tired, or sick. Nor would it have mattered if I had been grumpy, bashful, sneezy or any other dwarf. When PL drops the beat, you forget all that and dance your ass off. To my pleasant surprise, there was a full supporting band including: a couple of guys playing horns, a real drummer, and a couple of guys on keys or synths or something. Smith himself was multitasking between directing the show, 2 macbook pros, 2 Akai MPD32’s and an electric bass guitar.

And it’s worth noting that everyone performed flawlessly. Most shows I go to, I always notice someone sing off-key or miss a beat. Not here. No mistakes.

And THE LIGHTS.

“He isn’t called ‘Pretty Lights’ for no reason” - Brandon

The lights were timed perfectly to the music, and they were entirely mind blowing. As a guy who works in technology, I had to appreciate the feat they had accomplished with this show. The lighting must be cutting-edge, or possibly even innovative and ground-breaking. Literally nothing was done half-way.

And those balloons I mentioned before? The lasers hit them and illuminated them so they appeared as glowing orbs floating lazily over the dance floor.

The music, lights, glowing balloons and bass shaking my entire body had combinatoric effects. It was more than the sum of the parts. It was something new and glorious.

Finally, as the show wore on (I think I boogied for a total of 3 hours, not including opener), I began to feel very certain I was going to die of dehydration. But PL had thought of this and there were staff members going throughout the crowd and giving out free water.

As I left the stadium, I felt elated. I’d survived the crowd and hunger, but moreover I had come to truly be one of the crowd. I boogied with them. I sweat with them. I swayed when our evil genius master PL dropped the tempo down to let us temporarily rest. I reflected on my earlier judgment of the younger concert-goers and I laughed at myself of 4 hours earlier. Who was I to deny them this experience? I couldn’t stop smiling.

All night, the words of Mayer Hawthorne’s song “Crime” just kept repeating in my head:

We just wanna party. We don’t mean no harm. Don’t wanna hurt nobody. But they make it so hard.

Final thoughts #

Derek Vincent Smith is an amazing individual. It’s clear that he’s been blessed with a ton of creativity, but he doesn’t just leave it at that. His music is the product of hours and hours of hard work and refinement. His latest studio album was created from analog synths he put together himself, as well as original samples he recorded with studio musicians (and personally wrote the lyrics). He cut no corners, he pushed the boundaries of what artists would do to produce an album. Others can write more expressively about his music than I can.

At the end of the day, I would call him innovative, and as a a guy in technology, I do not use that term lightly.

But it goes beyond his music. He’s pushing the boundaries in everything he’s doing.

His lighting is innovative.
His website is innovative.
His mobile app is innovative.
His shows are innovative.
His business is innovative.

If you get the chance, definitely go immerse yourself in the Pretty Lights experience. It’s the sort of thing you’ll tell your kids about.