I first sat down to listen to this album on an exploratory adventure via mass transit across the city. Back in May, LADOT cut the ribbon on several new metro stations, extending the Expo line to somewhere that no Los Angeles rail transit line has ever gone before: the beach. For the first weekend of its opening, fares were waived, so I decided to take advantage and get to know LA’s metro system. The journey was long, but I had Still Parade to keep me company.
Concrete Vision is sagely self-explanatory; this record is told from the first person perspective, or perhaps more aptly, from my perspective. I allowed myself to become vulnerable on my trip, compromising personal comfort for convenience. (I also strongly stand by the environmental impact of reducing your carbon footprint, but that’s not my point here.) Over the duration of my travels, I grew to know Concrete Vision and I came to associate it with my majestic city.
This album is a perfect cross between psychedelia and electronica; if you ever want to turn the trippiness up, check out the 360º video for “Chamber.” As a whole, it churns at a steady pace, making my trek across LA’s vast terrain feel quicker than perhaps it really was. In the music, I can hear the energy of Baldwin Hills and feel the dejection of Vermont Harbor. Flowing rhythms may complement downtown Santa Monica’s boating moccasins too, given its distinct yacht rock vibe.
Sawdust & Gin 