By Lorenzo dela Cruz | April 22, 2025

All images are from Lucid Express’ - 2025 US Tour in Austin, TX on 4/18/25

On a gusty Austin night under open skies, the stage was set for an evening soaked in reverb, emotion, and ethereal beauty. Lucid Express, the dream pop/shoegaze quintet from Hong Kong, took the small stage at The Far Out Lounge, and for a fleeting hour, transported a diverse crowd into their swirling, sonically expansive world.

The Far Out Lounge, with its eclectic charm and laid-back outdoor setting, proved the perfect backdrop for Lucid Express’ atmospheric sound. Scattered picnic tables, string lights, and a crisp night breeze created a scene that was equal parts cozy and surreal. The audience was a curious mix—young couples sharing drinks, seasoned music heads in faded band tees, and even families with children dancing near the back. It wasn’t your typical shoegaze crowd, which made the vibe even more endearing.

At exactly 9:02 p.m., the band stepped onto the stage with little fanfare, opening their set with “Prime of Pride.” Immediately, the venue was filled with rich, echoing layers of guitar drenched in reverb, as Kim’s airy vocals floated just above the sonic mist. Her voice—gentle yet commanding—guided the audience through an oceanic soundscape. Each verse built upon the last, layering synths and distortion into a hypnotic crescendo. It felt less like watching a band and more like being pulled into a vivid dream.

Next came “Ado,” from their self-titled debut album, followed by “Blank” off their sophomore project, Floret. The back-to-back performances served as a sonic comparison point between the two records. While the debut album leans heavily into classic shoegaze textures—fuzzy, wall-of-sound guitar and melancholy undertones—Floret flirts with brighter, more upbeat indie pop moments. It’s a subtle evolution, not a reinvention, and it speaks to the band’s growing confidence in weaving emotion into melody.

Though the band rarely addressed the audience directly, their silence never felt cold or distant. Rather, it seemed deliberate—an artistic choice to let the music do the speaking. With every track, Lucid Express unfolded layers of themselves. And the crowd responded accordingly. Slowly, people began to rise from their seats, drifting closer to the stage, pulled in by the gravitational force of sound.

By the time the band launched into “She’s a Loner,” the transformation was complete. A once-seated crowd had become a standing sea of swaying silhouettes. The song returned to the more subdued, dreamy tones of the set’s beginning, evoking that familiar shoegaze feeling of bittersweet longing. Kim’s performance became increasingly physical—her hands moving in slow, wave-like motions, as if swimming through the very music she was creating. The synchronization between her gestures and the surrounding sound emphasized the immersive, near-spiritual quality of the moment.

The night culminated in a powerful closing trio: “Hallowers,” “Hotel 65,” and “Sore.” Each track built upon the last, creating a final crescendo of emotion and noise that left the crowd momentarily stunned. This was not a performance that demanded applause—it earned silent reverence before erupting into cheers.

In comparing Lucid Express to another shoegaze act like Wisp, I’m struck by the different emotional palettes each band explores. Where Wisp channels rage, tension, and angst—often bordering on catharsis—Lucid Express moves through sorrow, nostalgia, and quiet introspection. Their sound doesn’t scream; it whispers. But in those whispers lie profound depth and resonance.

This growing interest in Asian shoegaze feels like more than a musical trend—it feels personal. I’m reminded of conversations from college, explaining to a friend why EDM and raves held such emotional power for many Asian Americans. It wasn’t just about the beat drops—it was about release, about shared emotional experience, about finding a space where long-held feelings could be expressed freely and collectively. Shoegaze, too, offers that escape. And Lucid Express stands at the forefront of this movement—a vessel of soft longing and sonic catharsis.

At its core, art is the reinterpretation of the human experience. It’s a mirror, a medium, a moment. Watching Lucid Express perform was more than a concert—it was an affirmation of that belief. For me, as a struggling artist grappling with questions of purpose and fulfillment, their music served as a gentle reminder that even the quietest voices can carry weight, and even melancholy can be beautiful.

Lucid Express didn’t just perform—they created a space to feel, reflect, and dream. And on that windy Austin night, beneath the dim glow of stage lights and stars, that was more than enough.