Yves Tumor performing at Royale
Yves Tumor at Royale by Hang Nguyen

Enter a Dream: Yves Tumor

Glamorous, rowdy, and sensual, Yves Tumor’s performance left the audience at Royale begging for more.

A dim haze tinted the venue, and the sticky residue of past drinks spilt blanketed the floor. Fans with generous piercings and carefully curated outfits swayed to buoyant electronic French pop. They faced the stage, which supported two carnivalesque rods studded with lightbulbs the size of apples. Royale was a perfect space for the otherworldly energy of a performance by Sean Bowie, best known by the moniker Yves Tumor. Encased in cellophane sheets, the lights gave the stage an alien look. 

Over halfway through Tumor’s fifty-stop tour of Europe, the US, and Canada, the enigmatic genre-bending artist had arrived at Tremont Street’s trendy multi-venue nightclub. Their latest album The Asymptotical World came out last July, picking up where the April 2020 release of Heaven is a Tortured Mind left off. Tumor has described their music as “spiritual” and “nasty.” Since their earlier, heavily experimental releases, such as the 2016 “Serpent Music,” they’ve branched out. These recent albums maintain Tumor’s musical mystique, coalescing the realms of glam rock, R&B, and dream pop. 

Shortly after concertgoers trickled in, Izzy Spears opened the concert. Wired glasses framed the rapper’s face, and a chunky white constructed top enveloped his torso. Spears’ bludgeoning vocals on songs like “Hollywood Meltdown” were a fitting hors d’oeuvre for an audience awaiting Tumor’s barbed lyricism. After Spears set down his mic and departed, deejay Doss strode down the stairs to take his place. Her electro-EDM soundscapes swept over the crowd, building to pulsating crescendos. When she finished, French music and anticipation settled over the audience once more.

Screams erupted when Tumor burst on stage. They embodied the quintessential rock star with frosty blue hair, a metal-studded leather vest, and ripped black tights. Red light shone as they eased into the mid-tempo “Jackie,” teasing the audience with cheeky lyrics and lethargic bass. Tumor, guitarist Chris Greatti, bassist Topaz Faerie, and drummer Rhys Hastings jumped into “Romanticist” next, which transitioned smoothly into “Dream Palette.” Both tunes featured pellucid guitar lines atop steady vocals, evoking the sensation of floating through love. When a catchy horn melody signaled the start of “Gospel For a New Century,” Tumor’s hit single, the audience braced itself for its punchy impact.  

Throughout the night, Tumor played a character; one of glamor—sensual, unyielding, and occasionally aggressive. The artist is known to be recondite, sequestering many aspects of their personal life, but their persona cleaves from their private self during performance. Tumor in concert was a mirage. They spontaneously emerged in all of their glory, capturing everyone’s attention with a flick of the mic. A sea of hands wriggled and reached towards the stage as Tumor bent down close, jumped around, embraced Greatti, and reached into the crowd to receive someone’s half-smoked joint. 

Towards the middle of the set, more acerbic themes surfaced. The mercurial unreleased songs “Operator” and “Mtra” featured rock soundscapes with plucky basslines repeatedly striking the same note. “Medicine Burn” introduced grotesque, virulent lyrics. The repetition of the refrain, “And six hundred teeth, and six hundred,” presented an opportunity for the vocalist to move around the space. Tumor’s syncopated delivery jolted the audience around. They flaunted their outfit and raised the microphone towards a hanging speaker, creating a dull, pulsating noise. 

Other songs were tender. Translucent guitar licks in the glittering “Crushed Velvet” caressed legato verses. “Kerosene!” and “Licking an Orchid” grooved dreamily. The former featured a rippling guitar solo by Greatti, and the latter, Faerie’s silky vocals. Tumor and the band exited the stage following the grungy effervescence of  “…And Loyalty Is A Nuisance Child.” When the stage lights went out, the crowd chanted “One more song!” 

The musicians relented. Hastings sat down at his drums with a cup of water, and Tumor brandished a hand towel to wipe their sweat. With a piercing riff by Greatti, they launched into “Noid.” People closed their eyes during the nostalgic instrumental theme, and Tumor sang with vigor, impishly holding their towel over Greatti’s face as he shredded the fretboard. Their final song, “Secrecy is Important to the Both of Us,” moved rapidly with a detached, heavily-percussive feel. The song tapered off, feedback squealed, and Tumor exited. They were gone as quickly as they came, leaving the audience exhilarated, damp, and disoriented. For a moment, ears rang in the silence and people stood transfixed—as if waking from a dream.