Washed Out

by Duncan

Photo by <a href=

Photo by Grant David Keyes

I didn’t realize it at first, but Washed Out are the Air France of No Age, it’s so obvious now of course I love them.

Quick side note, actually: I’m always uncomfortable referring to solo projects with band names in the singular form, I don’t know what the rule is but I just realized it now and I know Washed Out is Ernest Green and I’ll talk about that in a second, I just wanted to clarify I know who they are.

Saying the Air France of No Age is so stupid. I googled Washed Out to find a picture and it turns out I’m way behind on this one. Hipster Runoff made jokes in July and I feel two steps back whenever Google Images actually pulls up what I’m looking for. Which leads me to my most important discovery, because Washed Out is Ernest Green, whose photo blog is just what it would be if you imagined he had one.


Photo by Ernest Greene

Also by Ernest Greene

Photos by Ernest Greene

I’m lying in bed listening obviously to Washed Out, and looking at his blog I feel a real tangible sense of jealousy. This summer Jessie and I went to Maine to hang out for three months and we were going to make magazines, ride bikes, and buy old books, and it turned out not being nearly that good. We needed money and being a waitress sucked for her and I only worked a third as much, so really she was sleepy and I was bored or lonely.

I don’t know if jealous is even right, I mean these pictures are what it looked like and we kind of did those things and I was even listening to this band when we were doing it. I’ve been burying my head in Fader lately and listening to Girls, and now I’m the one with a shitty job, and so much of what I like celebrates summer and the whole Polaroid tinted aesthetic. It’s October but I’m not done liking Washed Out. I’m not bored with jangly California, and I don’t always think about it but I really want to jump off docks.

So the thing about Washed Out—and the thing about the thirty photo blogs I like that look like this—is my fantasy nostalgia. The idea that going to Maine or doing anything I do really is going to feel like this sounds, and a minute ago I was really complaining, but living vicariously through certain music and certain images is the new rose colored glasses. I put this on top of my memory. Actually we did ride bikes and it wasn’t just old books, and we took plenty of our own purple photos, it was bad but it was also really good.