I principally believe we are living in a post “one-hit-wonder” era where pop music is concerned, mostly owing to the space the online world has given artists. You can have an artist, completely devoid of songs you recognise, be unfathomably popular in a way you could never have realised. In this vein, I was invited to see British-Cypriot alt popstar: Artemas play the final show of his UK tour at the O2 Forum in Kentish Town.
It was sold out, as was the entirety of his tour, with a huge queue out the door on a cold Monday night. Everyone is incredibly young, scores of The Substance-esque replicas of the crowds that would’ve queued outside of a Catfish and the Bottlemen show ten years ago, and the excitement is immediately palpable.
“He’s got a horny dickhead pop-vibe, like The Weeknd” I hear a girl in front of me say on the phone, somewhat prophetically.
Opening the show in front of the packed stalls is Willow Kayne, whose single ‘White City’ I have heard and did like for its unique production and cool, flowing vocal delivery. From her, it’s a pretty pedestrian performance, but the crowd are engaged and she’s having a good time onstage. She’s stood in front of a huge flowing white curtain, and is treading the small amount of stage she has while thanking the intermittent shouts through an artistically autotuned mic.
For those still unsure, Artemas is the latest in a line of TikTok-made artists, with his darkwave alt-pop single ‘i like the way you kiss me’ peaking at 3rd on the real life UK Singles Charts shortly after going viral on the app earlier this year. It’s an incredibly infectious song, with a shadowy synth bassline and catchy if not slightly aberrant lyrical hook that I was convinced most of the audience were present just to sing along to.
But as the lights go down, the screaming makes this hypothesis feel miscalculated. Artemas opens with the opening track of his hugely popular mixtape ‘yustyna’ that was released earlier this year. ‘i always kinda knew you’d be the death of me’ is a high-gloss ballad with an energising synthwave throughline that he performs silhouetted through the stage curtain. Phones are up for the first and not last time, and his vocals carry through the hall as though from beyond the grave.
Important context to the Kentish Town show was the fact that the Birmingham show the day before had been cancelled due to vocal strain, meaning he’d be singing tonight on a single day of recovery. This was pretty amazing to me, as from the first moments onwards, I couldn’t say I ever noticed any weakness in the way he belts.
On record, Artemas’ production technique has him employing digital modulation and compression to his vocals, which results in a sound that is masking to the point of being mysterious. Live however, this effect is almost completely absent which allows you to hear his
pure, unadulterated voice. His ability is unquestioned, managing a crisp delivery in a high register that I found at times to be impressive.
The curtain finally falls and the crowd hits fever pitch. Onstage Artemas hold his mic to air, sunglasses on and a vintage Johnny Cash shirt peeking through his glossy leather jacket. He’s got the presence of a real popstar, nevermind one people only recognise from TikTok, and every time he carries a note or takes off his glasses; it’s Beatlemania from the audience.
He’s backed-up with a full band and they bring another level to his music, which again on record can be straightforward and production heavy. The guitar and drums are locked in from the start, and have a good chemistry that allows for some choice shredding when needed. The songs themselves are mostly slow, gloomy ballads in the vein of The Weeknd, and the crowd knows all the words.
Lyrically, his material is almost all scandalous and sordid in a relatively emo fashion. Its one-night stands, messy break-ups and situationship mayhem, all topical for the shadow-aspect teenage heartthrob gone rogue that Artemas works to embody. The line “‘cause when you’re screamin’ my name, you hit every note” from ‘ur special to me’ is repeated word-for-word by everyone around me, so it’s fair to say the fans are on board with the salaciousness.
A big moment instrumentally is the heavy rendition of ‘how could u love somebody like me?’, a new single that is turned from a lowkey hook-centric ballad into something more triumphant onstage. Despite the track’s freshness, the crowd’s pushing into the barrier to holler the words back at Artemas as he casts his jacket to the floor. It’s high drama in the way he intends to be.
After a few album cuts, he pauses for some of his few lines of audience banter, remanding his vocal issues and taking some time to point out how just over a year ago he had “barely 200 monthly listeners”. He’s had an explosive rise to fame, but I can see the onlookers watching him as if they’ve been waiting all their lives to see him play.
I can see the appeal, he seems grateful to be there and he’s trying to leave everything onstage before he goes. It’s all building to the finale, and everyone knows which song it’s going to be. There’s a verve in the air as the beat locks in for the closing track: ‘i like the way you kiss me’. He laps it up, restarting just to get the crowd going one last time.
It occurs to me as he leaves to crazed ovation that this upbeat vibe seems to suit him better, like he should turn up the gear rather than slowing it down. A lot of Artemas‘ songs centre on his brooding persona and murky bravado, but the final track shows there’s a dynamism in him that wants everyone moving. Either way, the crowd ate up what he was putting down, that much was evident.
Photo credits: Gianluca Bottoni (@gianbottoni)
