Neon Indian’s huge audience could almost look Alan Palomo straight in the eye on stage—they were that tall. The average height at the Echoplex was about 5”11, and that’s for the ladies. The men were even bigger! It was like a forest of trees, shapes projected on their limbs, and little elves scurrying about their roots or napping under their shadows. During the long wait for Neon Indian, people slept on cushions, resting their heads on empty Two Boots pizza boxes. Some konked out during Keenhouse’s set. A girl hopped around on stage with Keenhouse, contributing a few vocal additions and pressing a button or two. One very large man in the crowd held his hands up like he was receiving Jesus.—Everyone’s entitled to their idols. But I don’t know about that one. It’s weird watching dance music produced live but not dancing to it. The gal on stage clapped along but no one jigged or raved and there wasn’t much to observe, and Keenhouse didn’t face the audience. It made me antsy. Neon Indian resolved the we’re-not-exactly-dancing-so-what-are-we-watching-you-do dilemma with a few good signature moves that kept people’s eyes engaged: a shoulder snap, a knee raise, some body language that faintly conjured Tom Jones. Palomo recently began performing these songs live, recreating sounds with a whole band that he invented solo in his bedroom. He said in our LA Record interview that he considers Neon Indian to be downtempo, not really meant for dance as much as atmosphere. So he’s figuring out how to administer a medium-intensity chill pill on groups given 40 minutes, speakers, and effects aplenty. I found it interesting that the guitarist plays the same melody Palomo sings. They use the guitar to generate noises, but it’s more a trigger than anything remotely resembling a stringed instrument. It sounds like an alien back-up singer harmonizing with Palomo. “Is Anyone here on acid?” Palomo asked before “I Should Have Taken Acid With You.” Folks were sedated, but the acid might kick in later.

—Daiana Feuer