Saturday night at The Wiltern, everything shimmered — the kind of LA night where it feels like the city is humming with you. The crowd was an oddly perfect mix: 30-somethings who probably saw ODESZA in 2015, a couple parents with a kid wearing soundproof headphones, and groups of friends dressed like the afterparty was already waiting. The Wiltern itself felt alive, every beam of light ricocheting off the art deco walls like a pulse.

Shallou opened with this gentle, emotional EDM that felt more like floating than dancing. His set was all texture — fog, soft pink lights, and music that gave you space to breathe. It wasn’t a hype-up; it was a reset. The kind of songs that make you realize you’ve been clenching your jaw all week. His music bridges chill electronica and ambient warmth — something between introspection and escapism. It’s the kind of sound that doesn’t demand attention but earns it quietly, song by song.

Then Big Wild, the musical project of Portland-based multi-instrumentalist Jackson Stell, walked on stage barefoot-looking, peace-sign tee, floral pants, total California calm. From the first note, the air changed. The bass didn’t hit — it moved through people, like a shared pulse. His voice is this high, almost fragile contrast against the weight of the beats, and somehow that tension makes everything feel alive.

The lighting was its own language. The stage glowed in hues of pink, violet, and neon green, perfectly syncing with the rhythm, adding shape to the sound. At one point, Stell and his drummer entered a call-and-response — cajón versus kit — daring each other to go harder. It was raw, almost spiritual, the kind of live moment that reminds you why concerts exist in the first place.

Throughout the set, Stell bounced effortlessly between instruments — cajón, keyboard, and his signature clear rototom setup — each transition seamless and alive with intention. It wasn’t about showing off; it was about flow. You could feel his joy in the way he moved, in how the crowd mirrored it back to him. He was both conductor and conduit, channeling something bigger through rhythm and color.

What’s striking about Big Wild is how much of that joy feels intentional. His latest album, Wild Child, leans into the idea of protecting the inner child — the part of you that still finds magic in sound, color, and connection. On stage, that concept comes alive in real time. He doesn’t perform at people; he plays with them, like the most generous kid on the playground. Every synth swell and drum break feels like it’s built to remind you what wonder feels like.

The show wasn’t just music — it was movement, memory, and mindfulness stitched into one. By the end, people weren’t just dancing; they were glowing. The Wiltern felt smaller somehow, as if everyone inside had synced to the same heartbeat. It wasn’t just a concert. It was a moment of collective joy, loud and luminous, and deeply human.

Thank you for the music!

— Lio