The first time I saw Dreamcrusher I was in Ridgewood, Queens at the live music venue Trans-Pecos, on top of a table with several other people who did not want to be in Dreamcrusher’s way.
Dreamcrusher did tell the audience beforehand to “get up,” and that was interpreted as stay on the floor or get on the tables. They were assertive and strong, not aggressive, and the sense of control they had over their own body controlled what the audience did. No one was forced to participate, but those who did were in a trancelike state as they engaged with Dreamcrusher. It was a subconscious call-and-response with a beautiful manic twist of noise, hardcore, jungle and house, with more influences of subgenres within those sounds. They paid the table-dwellers no attention and continued to perform, holding a blinding light to their face. We were in complete darkness aside from that light and an intense fog. I couldn’t see which way or where Dreamcrusher would be at any moment during the performance. Their gestures were graceful and they finished their set with a polite “thank you” when the lights turned back on.
Dreamcrusher’s performance energy is fanatic. They’re not just a person on stage with a mic. They aren’t restricting themselves to boundaries as to what a performer is to the viewer but what a performer is to them.
Dreamcrusher grew up liking music that took them out of where they were and put them where the musician was. Therefore they believe a concert or performance should be an experience. “When someone is actively trying not to be involved, even though they paid to be somewhere, it doesn’t make any sense to me,” they said.
This month, Dreamcrusher will perform at Secret Project Robot, a performance space-meets-bar in Brooklyn, and will take their show on the road to Amsterdam to play the Sonic Acts Festival.