There’s something about the raspiness in a British singer’s voice that takes you to an imaginary place, like a jazz cafe or a crisp fall night in London. The Echoplex crowd recently got a taste of that feeling thanks to Miss Olivia Dean. It was apparent that everyone got there early, as I found a place in the back and grooved out to the earlier 2000s playlist filled with Blu Cantrell and Janet Jackson hits.
There was a 2-hour gap between doors and Olivia’s set, but the chattering and close proximity to everyone made us forget there was no opener.
The anticipation was high, and security tried to keep the walkways clear as fans flowed into the Echoplex’s bizarre hexagon-shaped basement location. The scene reminds me of a high-volume coffee shop minus the coffee, but only IPA beers, mixed drinks, and low lights.
When Olivia Dean hit the stage, I squeezed in the front for a few shots before I ventured into the belly of the crowd to bask in the ambiance of lovers, surprise proposals, and solo fans belting out “Be My Own Boyfriend,” my personal favorite, and “What Am I Gonna Do On Sunday?”
Throughout the night, I took in the power of Dean’s voice and how well-suited her ambiance is to be accompanied by a full band. Her star shined as bright as fresh snow on a cold morning, adorned with big smiles, gorgeous hair, and a witty personality. She entranced fans to fall for her, one song after another. If she has a show, we will watch it. If she had a flower shop, she would sell out. Her aura is warm and safe, and sometimes, she isn’t all melodic metaphors when she sings. She’s pretty literal, like in “I Could Be a Florist.”
I honestly had a great time watching her perform. If there’s ever a way she can do a coffee shop tour with all the acoustics, I would be there instantly. That would be the perfect merger.
Photos & Words by Asha Moné
