Gig Review: Yeule at Headrow House Leeds
Despite imperfections, Yeule's Leeds show was a strong performance that made effective use of the venue's intimacy.
24/05/24
Those familiar with Headrow House in Leeds will know its somewhat uninspiring design is alleviated by the intimacy it allows. Rather than anything too grandiose or elevated, the space ultimately positions the attendee at an equal level with those on stage, which in turn makes for an interesting dynamic when big performers come to town. In the case of Yeule - a cyborgian Glitch Princess (2022) that combines ambient, hyperpop, and now shoegaze production to mesmerising effect - the venue’s design allows one to better gauge the Singaporean’s unique synthesis of sound and vision.
Through their inspired rendering of what a cyborg pop-star would look, sound, and act like, Yeule has inevitably developed a level of mystique. So much so that attendees were seemingly hesitant to move from their position in between sets, for the fear of losing their space close to the stage. With their unique image in mind, songs such as ‘4ui12’, with lyrics that read “dehumanising me.. romanticising me.. art, artificially..”, playfully contextualise Yeule’s interactions with the audience’s curious gaze. In the flesh, however, Yeule is more human than one suspects; throughout the gig, they were more than happy to interact with the sold-out crowd, while showing a more relaxed side that is rarely expressed in their music.
Starting with the effective opener ‘Electric’, echoey synthesisers notes are perfectly met by Yeule’s precise vocals. Accompanying them for tonight is trusty drummer Ryan Bernardo, who patiently awaits the song’s explosive second-half. It’s during the latter part that Yeule turns 180 degrees to finally meet the audience’s gaze dead on. Moving, dancing, and expressing themselves in a theatrical, yet calculated manner, their ability to hypnotise a crowd is immediately clear.
Two mid-tempo tracks follow: ‘sulky baby’ and ‘4ui12’. Sticking to the initial set-up of Yeule on vocal duties, Ryan on drums, and the venue’s sound system doing most of the leg-work, these live renditions possess a dynamic sound that matches the studio recordings. The same can not be said, however, for a personal favourite that follows: ‘Cyber Meat’. Despite bringing out their guitar, Yeule’s most effective rock-tune is muted into more of a whimper than a bang, to the point that a verse or two is derailed by Yeule’s polite request to get more volume on their instrument.
It’s in these moments that Yeule’s usual guitar-player, Sasami Ashworth, is sorely missing. The anthemic qualities of softscars (2023)- which seamlessly fuses relatable outsider songwriting with electro-rock instrumentation - are sadly diluted throughout the show. ‘Dazies’, for example, while garnering a small mosh pit, suffers the same fate. An overreliance on the backing track results in performance art rather than musical performance.
Admittedly, the same set-up does provide moments of joy. Standout ballad ‘Aphex Twin Flame’ rises from the ashes to deliver an emotional sucker-punch that grips the sold-out crowd. Donning their acoustic guitar, the song is a pertinent reminder of just how minimal Yeule’s sound can be, with their lyrical talents matching their ephemeral production. In a similar vein, ‘Don’t Be So Hard on Your Own Beauty’ feeds on the venue’s intimacy to deliver a meditative ballad that’ll inevitably get a tear or two flowing.
Likewise, when closing the show, ‘Bites On My Neck’ harnesses the collective energy to deliver a euphoric knockout. After a measured and concise set informed by Yeule’s self-confessed jet-lag, this last track is ready to let loose before everyone heads into the night. A mosh pit ensues, Yeule’s more animated than ever, and the rails are seemingly off…
Or are they?
As with much of Yeule’s performance, this moment of elation is cut short by the railroading of the original backing track. Indeed, although the crowd are more than happy to go for another round or two of the song’s electrifying hook, the performance is limited by the original song’s runtime. If there’s a fitting analogy for the gig as a whole, this is it.