Photos by Gary Magill
The last time I saw Delorean play, I was huddled underneath a humid tent at FYF in Los Angeles. This was last summer, and the space was so smoke-riddled, Delorean was shrouded in a hazy red brume and the violet disco ball collective hanging from the ceiling reflected the shooting stage beams. The acoustics were terrible, but no one really cared—Delorean makes dance tracks. As long as you can hear the beat and the rush of synths, does anyone really give a shit about the quality of acousmatic delivery?
Delorean, which goes by @DELOREANDANZ on Twitter (“tanz” is German for “dance”, so maybe that’s a reference to something, I don’t know) doesn’t talk much onstage. There isn’t really a need for it once they start playing. That absence of communication is either a mark of self-involvement, or proof that they’re finely-tuned enough to do without it. (I prefer to believe it’s the former.)
Each member was collectively in their own world. The keyboardist Unai Lazcano (wearing a shirt donning the name of their own record label, True Panther—do with that what you will) had so much energy I thought he might shove his board off the stage, and I’m not sure why, but someone placed a tiny robot in front of him mid-set. That was sort of the nature of the show—it was an absurdist, just-because dance party.
Delorean’s releases (last year’s Apar, and even more so in 2010’s Subiza) were dabbed in black glitter—resplendent and shiny, but in a dark way, and the live show carried that sentiment throughout. Could the audience hear everything that vocalist Ekhi Lopetegi sang? Nope, but that doesn’t really matter—it sounded shiny and fun and everyone was dancing.
The last pre-encore song was Subiza’s glossiest moment—“Stay Close”. When Delorean played this track at FYF, I couldn’t make out anyone’s faces in the aggressive crimson stagelights, but like last night, it was a sweaty dance party.