During this quarantine, I’ve been separated from my beloved apartment tower speakers and as a result have resorted to listening to music through semi-decent headphones. Thankfully, I don’t have to use laptop speakers, but I miss the enveloping feeling of listening to music through those towers, letting the sound wash over me. Whenever an opportunity comes to make an album-length drive of thirty to forty minutes, I jump at it; I need to hear music through real, powerful speakers again. So many albums come to life when they can really breathe, and fill a space, rather than get blasted directly onto your eardrums. My most recent drive was soundtracked by Yves Tumor’s Heaven To A Tortured Mind, a towering, thundering achievement.
Listen: Yves Tumor – Heaven To A Tortured Mind
This drive through a suburb let me experience the album in a visceral way; as golden hour rays struck the rolling green hills that surrounded me, Yves Tumor transformed the drive as the album filled up the car I was in. But that’s not the only thing that changed; I realized I was witnessing Yves Tumor’s transformation as well. And for Yves Tumor, it feels wrong to call it simply a transformation; it feels like they have metamorphosed, shedding their outer shell for what was always there, just waiting for the right moment to unfold.
Yves Tumor’s music started off as what can best be described as ambient noise. Unsettling field recordings propelled by repetitive loops of lo-fi drums — I can appreciate it but not necessarily enjoy it. Then, two years ago, with their album Safe In The Hands Of Love, they started showing off some of their pop sensibilities, especially on the hip-hop-like exuberance of “Noid”, a bombastic and joyous song that hinted at some sense of approachability. It came out amidst a time when police brutality was top of mind in America, the song title being an abbreviation of “paranoid” — a feeling that has resurfaced today, but for much different reasons. The track has an underlying unease beneath all of the boom-bap drums and Yves Tumor’s unflinching voice.
But that album still had some of that experimental, rather inaccessible music that Yves Tumor was known for. The album was a good one, but not one that I can put on for friends when we’re hanging out unless I wanted to harsh the mood. (I learned my lesson after playing In The Aeroplane Over The Sea once at a college kickback. I cringe for my 19-year old self.)
My joy, then, when Heaven To A Tortured Mind, their latest album, revealed itself to be a staggering statement of rock stardom, of full-on pop songs with hooks and speaker-shaking guitar solos, cannot be understated. Finally, I can try to introduce my friends to the genius that is Yves Tumor. Their music always hinted at what it could be, but this album takes away the subtlety and goes for full-on in-your-face hits. After all, in a 2016 interview, they stated that’s what they wanted to do: “I only want to make hits. What else would I want to make?” And what hits they are.
Starting off with the stunning track, “Gospel For A New Century”, is quite a way to announce your arrival. Sharply produced drums and blown-out horns give way to an absolutely dazzling, menacing bassline (a constant theme throughout the album) as Yves Tumor sings of a forlorn love. Gone is the abrasiveness, gone is the experimental ambience, replaced by full-on glam rock that is meant for stadiums. Oh yes, this album deserves to breathe, and while my dad’s Honda Clarity Hybrid isn’t quite stadium-size, it managed to let the album show its beauty on the roads of the utterly suburban eastern Bay Area.
Every song on this album is a trip, flitting from jazz to hip-hop to superstar rock to earth-shattering duets. Take “Kerosone!”, which features vocalist Diana Gordon. It starts off with some airy synths, before it gets grounded by those sharp drums and absolutely killer bassline that are so present throughout this album.
“I can be what you need/Tell me what you need/I can be your baby in real life, sugar/I can live in your dreams” sings the duo, as the song builds and builds, the drums picking up pace, the voices becoming increasingly urgent, and then: a stunning guitar solo comes into the mix out of nowhere, absolutely shredding the song into pieces, as the voices swirl around it, the song’s focus and gravity now completely shifted to center around this rock-star-like solo. The solo fades, and Gordon’s longing voice becomes the main focal point, with those airy synths and punchy drums still pushing the song forward, before Yves Tumor comes back into the mix, their voice repeating insistently that they can be what you need, and Diana Gordon howling longingly in the background. The guitar comes in and out, reminding you of what Yves Tumor can do musically. This is a hit, I think, as I drive past the Whole Foods and Target.
What follows is “Hasdallen Lights”, maybe the closest thing this album has to an interlude. A somewhat lo-fi guitar riff repeats throughout the track, with playful synths floating in and out of the mix and those omnipresent punchy drums. “What are you running from?/What do you miss?/Tell me, what do you crave?” questions Yves Tumor — it’s almost as if they’re interrogating their former self, before they reached this transformation into a surreal rock star. And that’s when it struck me, what made Yves Tumor’s music, especially on this album, so captivating. None of these songs feel grounded in realism, but rather are lifted up high due to their relentless imagination and fantasy.
“Dream Palette”, transitioning from the irresistibly groovy “Romanticist”, starts off with what sounds like literal fireworks blasting off into the sky and frantic drums and guitar panning from left to right. It’s as if you’re surrounded on all sides at this maniacal carnival, a sensory overload, before a bassline that makes it impossible not to bop your head comes in, slightly overblown and distorted, as guest star Julia Cumming screams into the void, “Tell me, is this confidential love?” Yves Tumor and Julia’s voice join as the bass and drums seems to increase in urgency, building towards a climax, and they ask the listener, “Tell me, is this fundamental love?”
Yves Tumor wants to let the listener know who they are and why they deserve to be heard. On the aptly-titled “Super Stars”, they are supported by yet another immaculate bassline as they implore a girl to tell them that they are her lover, that when they are together, “it’s like super stars”. This swaggering confidence from an artist who was known for avant-garde experimental ambient music is such a welcome shift, shedding much of the mystique that surrounded Yves Tumor in their previous work. Their personality has become the focus, and what a personality it is.
Being stuck in our homes with no realistic end in sight and a return to normalcy a far-off daydream has led to quite an experience, ironically. This drive to pick up groceries had turned out to be nothing short of fascinating, mainly due to the fact that there was nothing going on outside (as well as the soundtrack that Yves Tumor was providing it). Or rather, the things that were happening are now the only things people can do, such as go on walks through a suburban neighborhood. I drove by a family walking past a house that had a comically large “AMERICAN AND PROUD” flag waving; a boy of no more than ten pointed the flag out to his father, and the father shook his head, as if disagreeing with the flag’s sentiment.
When much of life feels stagnant and faith in our country’s leadership is lower than usual, witnessing someone’s transformation can be wondrous, a miracle in this hellish time. Yves Tumor lets us experience their metamorphosis in an unforgettable way with bright production and arresting vocal performances that form into a surreal, fantastical daydream of an album. Heaven To A Tortured Mind closes out with “A Greater Love”, with tight drums and another stunning guitar solo as Yves Tumor waxes poetic about a lover brought from above, about how they made Yves Tumor feel their kiss, and how this lover can bring change. As the song fades out and my drive continues, the sun is setting and people are outside, walking, hoping for a semblance of normalcy. The album’s title, Heaven To A Tortured Mind, is fitting; it’s utterly melodramatic and hyperbolic to call my mind anything close to “tortured”, but the album certainly feels like heaven to a locked down state of mind, providing a much-needed respite.