A Mindful DIIV: Existentialism You Can Dance To

Ah, SLO Brew Rock. A sacred space for local beer enthusiasts, indie concert goers, and chainsmokers alike. I approach the bouncer, and am ushered into the establishment based only on the promise of my name. As a sweet baby who has never been guest-list-royalty before, this constitutes a pretty pivotal moment of my life as a budding college music journalist. Feeling good and official about it. But, I’m not here to brag… I’m here to take something of a dive into the sounds that await me. Yes, that was a pun. Yes, you can laugh. No? Too soon? Whatever. 

Alright, so I’m in. I’m showered in red stage lights and partially blinded by disco ball reflective bits and pieces as I move about the floor, squeezing through gaps in the crowd. Last time I was here, there were blue lights and visions of fish projected onto the wall. That felt like a Petco aquarium self-insert, but this feels more like a visit to a ~certain~ district of Amsterdam: Slightly off-putting, but also fostering a sense of curiosity that I know will only heighten with the progress of my night. Artificial fog begins to roll in and fill the venue, adding to the sheer eeriness. I shiver with anticipation.

Kraus performing at SLO Brew Rock 2.22.25

Boom, Buzz, & Drums…Onomatopoeia. Thank you to the opening band, Kraus, for setting the stage and the scene so very well. I think to myself that if I were to be under the influence of some recreational, controlled substance (allegedly), this would be the place. Small talk follows inbetween sets, as do slight bouts of awkward, prolonged eye contact. I just hurt myself in a raunchy Isla Vista mosh pit the prior night, so I hope and pray for a calmer crowd, faithful that my trusty Doc Martens will do a better job of protecting me here. 

I’m thankful when the lights dim and our spaceship finally takes off. The whole room shakes, as if the audience is being preemptively transported into another dimension, the DIIV dimension (wink!), in preparation for the show. “I am of sound mind and body” echoes through the room via the audio system, and subsequently, my skull. Well, yes, I am! Let’s do this. I’m ready for the most psychedelical, shoegazey, distortion-upped and overdrive-on experience of my little life. 

It almost feels as if I have joined a cult. Weirdly, I’m kind of into it. “No excuses,” playfully shouts someone in the crowd as DIIV’s guitarist, Andrew Bailey, hobbles out on stage assisted by a pair of crutches. Hmm. That kind of perseverance really makes me want to purchase some band merchandise to support his recovery…not that there was any kind of visual planting conditioning that idea in my brain…

Said “lack of visual planting and conditioning” / Photo courtesy of my iPhone

DIIV on stage (note the crutches on the ground!)

My mind immediately characterized the band’s aura as something like Tame Impala’s “Rushium”:  faux-pharmaceutical media meets the vibe of the infamous Heaven’s Gate suicide cult. Possibly niche, but I’d think context clues will assist you, dear reader. Visuals ranged from the seemingly ordinary to psychedelic to a complete multi-media presentation (riddled with potential conspiracy). Lyrics were also plastered on-screen behind the band, to which my friend in the crowd cups my ear and tells me, “didn’t know this was the singalong version!” which I then giggle about and jot down in my pocket notebook. As someone who generally enjoys subtitles and understanding lyrics, this was a plus for me. DIIV: 1. Other shoegaze-type bands (Cocteau Twins & My Bloody Valentine adjacent): 0.

Another note I took is that I really enjoyed the song “Brown Paper Bag”; It reminded me of a sleeper agent activation phrase, especially given the general ambiance of the concert and crowd. I also noted “Soul-net” as a stand-out: the visual representation of a soul.net website and the song’s content, honing in on karmic cycles and escaping fear, really proved the band’s mission beyond music. I’ll take my music with a slight highlight of heightening societal corruption and satirical foundation regarding the state of our world, please and thank you.

In-between songs, the band’s title screen stylistically flashing diiv grounded the audience and symbolized transition. I found the set to flow very well, and the common structure of DIIV songs intensifying with progress kept my interest piqued. Parallel to the music, the visual media overload of information/stimulation kept my mind from remaining in one place as themes such as censorship, normalcy, isolation, and insignificance as beauty flashed by.

Anyways — I was having a blast; even though some parts of the night felt intentionally jarring and alarming, that only made my experience more well-rounded and meaningful upon reflection. This is the kind of concert that you really take something away from. The approach to visuals and emphasis on distortion of reality coupled with repeated, layered melodies made time and emotion cease to exist (until my feet began to hurt from standing too long...)

I’m walking away, both ever-so-slowly and with a newfound spring in my step. That was really good, I think to myself. A generic phrase, but I mean it! One way or another, I believe that DIIV intended to bring clarity and hope to their audience with somewhat of a crash course in life packed into their performance. The music was great and the band was wonderful; the amount of thought and practice behind their art moved me. Nowadays, I most often find myself listening to DIIV on late nights or as a background soundtrack when I am spending time writing, pondering, or elsewise creating something or other.

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Sarah Jagielski is a writer on our Content Team. She wrote the article. Omar Sanchez is a member of our art team. He made the graphic. Bailee Isackson is out Photo/Video Director. They took the photos.