There's something about this guy. His tracks feel like faded memories. It's like browsing through hundreds of those stock photographs found in picture frames that you throw away full of listless plastic smiles, hair product, blue-eyed wholesome families or women undressing under waterfalls. Those pictures seem to illustrate that a sickening faith in consumerist culture will provide a forced optimism in the stark face of economic downturns, terrorism and nuclear annihilation. It makes you feel drained and blinkered yet somehow elated like an aural Prozac. I guess Washed Out (a.k.a. Ernest Greene) could fit in with the 'Hypnagogic Pop' movement if his music wasn't so overproduced. But thankfully it's sounds just right, somehow straddling the decades in a retro-futurist manner and leaves you dreaming of DeLorean's and electric sheep rather than recession and the hopeless decay of society.
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