More about: Yungblud

Google my name and ‘YUNGBLUD’, and you’ll find a fair amount of smack talk…so when I told friends I was going down to his show at Royal Albert Hall, they thought I was joking, or else going to cross my arms and look bored enough that he’d give up and go home. But it’s the next day and I’ve almost lost my voice from screaming along with lyrics I somehow knew. I’m feeling humbled. Maybe I'm on my YUNGBLUD redemption arc?

There’s definitely a cult that music types subscribe to. It’s one in which you collectively decide to doubt some artists while giving others a pass. YUNGBLUD is one of the worst cases of this: someone claimed that he’s false once and everyone believed it, picking anything apart for flaws. Other artists—who maybe look cooler, label themselves post-punk and get played on 6music instead—have their inconsistencies or nepotistic connections ignored. 

I’ve been a massive sceptic of YUNGBLUD myself, questioning Dom Harrison’s origin and authenticity like the rest of the gaggle. You’ve heard all the comments—his accent is fake, his family are actually rich, his team makes every decision for him and he’s the face of a machine come to gobble up all the talent. But when the lights went down at the Royal Albert Hall for the artist’s show in aid of Teenage Cancer Trust, I forgot to care about all of that. Bounding onto the stage to a wall of happy screams and crying teens, it’s hard to find time to analyse him in all the joyful chaos. 

In the hour and a half that Dom was on stage, I feel like I learned enough to overpower all my previous (possible) misconceptions, or at least to realise they don’t matter so much. I expected to feel second-hand cringe, but instead, the experience felt more like what it might have been like to see Freddie Mercury on stage. YUNGBLUD moves in a way that's over-the-top and overtly sexual—to the point of being camp. You can see him laughing with you, getting there before you can direct it at him, in a level of self-awareness that his branding and online presence cuts out. Genuinely funny on-stage quips mixed in with moments of humbling awe add up to the conclusion that YUNGBLUD is the epitome of a showman. 

It’s a rare thing. A lot of people think they have it, but when you see it in action, you realise how infrequently you come across that kind of entertainer. Looking down at the floor of the hall, every assembled teenager is smiling. Singing along with wide eyes, I found myself wishing I was their age again; back to being 14 and at my first gigs, heading down to the venue in the late morning to wait outside the door.

YUNGBLUD fans went home with those core memories last night. Who am I to disregard that? 

The realisation probably all came to me in the toilets. In a 150-year-old hall that mostly houses classical concerts or more straight-laced affairs, the bathrooms are gender-neutral, a feat achieved by a 24-year-old from Doncaster. It’s a step he demands from every venue he plays. Maybe no amount of musical criticism should undo progress like this. With a crowd full of assorted flags screaming pride for all sexualities, Dom screams reminders to look after each other, pick up anyone that falls, love everyone. Every second comes with an affirmation, burying sweet messages inside teen-bop emo tunes sung by a man with black eyeshadow and red hair. Unlike the days when we’d all listen to Paramore or Pierce The Veil in our rooms and cry—letting the music spiral you further—Dom’s music always ends on a high. He doesn’t seem to want to let anyone sink, and the smiles on the faces of the crowd suggest a fandom that feels that love and support fully and viscerally like nothing I’ve ever seen. 

Leaving the stage to fans begging for another encore, I felt conflicted. Surrounded by young kids hugging their parents, both looking equally as elated by what they’d just seen, it’s hard to renegotiate a view that everyone's spiralling you around. Let's admit it, at 23, it doesn’t feel cool to like YUNGBLUD, and there’s definitely still a conversation to be had around his place in the industry. Obsessively marketed to teens from day one, YUNGBLUD is definitely part of a big machine that knows exactly how to make someone a star in the TikTok generation. They know how to borrow from old nostalgic hits in a way that steals their catchiness but protects them from legal issues, they know how to make him a cult figure while securing partnerships with huge collaborators, they know how to make him inescapable while still cashing in on the idea that he’s just a simple local boy. But after seeing the machine in the act, I’m thinking maybe it’s something to be in awe of, rather than to fear.

If YUNGBLUD is a plant, whoever grew him is a genius. Surrounded by collaborators, photographers, friends that seem so passionate and so excited by everything he’s doing, does it really matter if it’s fake if the effect is so real? Does his authenticity matter all that much when every single ticket holder is going home with all the serotonin, excitement, and buzz that a true performer should provide? And as adults, who are we to try and burst the bubble of teen admiration when simply, it’s not for us?

By the end of the night, having shaken his hand with the same hand that typed so much criticism, I think I’m ready to lay down weapons and add some  YUNGBLUD songs to my playlists, letting myself lay off on the analysis and just enjoy the music. Just like my younger self did for some artists who were far far worse than YUNGBLUD ever has been.

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More about: Yungblud