I wanna dance, I wanna dance dance with you, so take a chance oh yeah.
Please tell me you have heard that song ^^^ . If not, please put your headphones in your ear, open your Spotify on your comp or phone, search "Say my name" bc I promise you won't be disappointed as the first beat starts hitting.
So yeah, "welcome" or re "hello" to one my favorite artists, Odesza.
In the music world, there are artists you listen to. And then there are artists that do something else entirely — they rewire you.
Odesza is the second kind.
I've been following Harrison and Clayton since the early days. The kind of artist you find before the world catches up, and then you watch the world catch up, and somehow it still feels personal.
Their music doesn't just move — it builds.
Layer by layer, frequency by frequency, until something in your chest that you didn't know was tight finally lets go. They are one of those rare acts that makes you feel less alone in a room full of strangers. More alive in a moment you'd otherwise just pass through.
So when I had the opportunity to photograph one of their shows, I didn't just show up as a photographer.
I showed up as a fan with a camera.
So today, I am excited to reflect on my three favorite lessons from shooting one of my favorite artists.
01 // Shoot the room, not just the stage.
The easiest thing to do at a show like this is point your lens at the artist and stay there. But ODESZA isn't just two people. It's what happens between them and everyone else. Some of my favorite frames from that night weren't the stage at all. They were faces. Hands in the air. A stranger with their eyes closed, completely gone.
Don't be afraid to step back, get into the crowd, and see the set from all angles.
02 // Let the light lead.
Their production is painterly. Silhouettes. Negative space. Colors that hit exactly when the melody does. I learned to stop chasing the moment and start anticipating it — to read the music and be ready before the light broke.
03 // Presence over perfection.
The best photographs I've ever taken aren't technically flawless. They're alive. That night reminded me that the camera is just a tool for witnessing. The job isn't documentation. It's attention.
Final Thoughts
What Odesza does in a room isn't performance. It's architecture. They build something sonically, visually, emotionally — and then invite ten thousand strangers inside it together. The drumline. The swell. The way a song you've heard a hundred times hits differently when everyone around you feels it at once.
That's rare. Most of us spend our whole lives trying to manufacture that kind of connection. The truth is you can only create the conditions for it.
I was lucky enough to be in the room when they did.
Some moments you capture. Some moments capture you.
Hope you enjoy these lessons, and huge thanks to Odesza for constantly inspiring me.
