Forget stadiums, smoke machines, and sold-out crowds. This is a concert that never needed a venue—because the venue is your head. Or whatever’s left of it once you’re dragged through a digital rabbit hole where sound warps space and you stop being a viewer.
In this 3D fever dream, two performers drift like avatars through a synthetic landscape, glitching in and out of environments that feel more like emotional states than physical places. No choreography. No rules. Just data loops, echo chambers, and the eerie illusion that the music knows you better than your therapist ever did.
This isn’t a celebration of tech—it’s a middle finger to the flat, performative intimacy that real-life concerts pretend to offer. The stage is gone. You are the stage. And when it ends, you’re not sure if you’ve seen something… or if something saw you.
