Yungblud: ‘I reeked of insecurity... I had to shut the doors for a bit’

As he returns with a new stadium-sized sound, the Doncaster singer opens up to Roisin O’Connor about his divisive image, struggles with insecurity and mental health in the public eye, and why he had to hit the pause button on his relationship

‘Hello Heaven, Hello’: singer Yungblud in a promo shot for his new single (Tom Pallant)

Oh to be a fly on the wall of Yungblud’s record label when he played them his comeback single. “They went white when they heard it,” the musician born Dominic Richard Harrison claims, grinning from ear to ear as he recalls the moment his team discovered the track was nine minutes and six seconds long. He’d found himself growing frustrated with vapid two-minute pop songs that pander to waning attention spans. So he decided to make something “without form”, pushing back against the idea of a “radio-friendly” track. The label team was, suffice to say, nervous. “They were like, ‘This is what you want to come back with? How the f*** are we gonna get this on Spotify?’” he says, with a squawk of laughter. “And I said, ‘I don’t f***ing care.’ A nine-minute comeback song? Why the f*** not?”

“Hello Heaven Hello” marks a new chapter for the seemingly irrepressible artist; it opens on a burst of soaring, Nineties-indebted pop-rock and, with a judder of electric guitar, shifts gears into a tremendous salvo of squalling solos, cinematic strings and thrashing drums, led by some sky-shattering vocals worthy of Steven Tyler or Axl Rose. Then, like the skies clearing after a thunderstorm, comes a bright acoustic riff and a reverb-drenched refrain that slowly fades out. “I was studying a lot of musical theatre for this album – West Side Story, Cabaret, all that – but also reading a lot about Lou Reed, Bowie and Iggy Pop in Berlin,” Harrison explains. It’s a notable departure from his previous work. He describes it as “kind of like a rock opera”, but beneath all the bombast is a newfound maturity in songwriting and production. Gone are the spiky guitars, jittery beats and Harrison’s slacker-style vocal delivery. Gone, too, are the on-the-nose lyrics, replaced with more subtle storytelling that allows his vulnerabilities to shine through.

The Doncaster singer is sitting in a room at his label office in London, doing his first interview for this new campaign. He bounds over for a hug as I walk in, looking sharp and trim in drainpipe trousers, shirt and silk waistcoat. “I’ve been boxing,” he says proudly, showing me some photos on his phone from a recent music video shoot, his six-pack on full display, his shock of black hair windswept as he sits astride a horse on a snow-covered mountain. It’s dramatic to the point of exhibitionism. After disappearing for a longer hiatus than most pop stars would dare, no social media, nothing, he’s returned like Aragorn from Lord of the Rings, bursting through the doors at Helm’s Deep. Today, the hair is slicked back; his green eyes are rimmed with kohl. Add a top hat and he’d be the world’s suavest undertaker. There’s no mourning for his past self, though, at least not today.

We last saw one another at Reading Festival in 2019, when Harrison was bouncing around like he was on a pogo stick in the backstage area, ahead of his performance on the main stage. Back then, he was just starting to break through to daytime TV consciousness, thanks to the release of his debut, 21st Century Liability, the year before. The pogo-ing at Reading was in tune with that precocious collection of bratty alt-pop songs, and its earnest themes of mental health, teenage angst and toxic male culture. A follow-up, 2020’s Weird! leant more into the pop sphere, while making better use of his dynamic, grainy vocals on tracks such as the Post Malone-styled “Cotton Candy” (about sexual fluidity) and David Bowie-inspired “Mars” (dedicated to a trans fan). To date, he’s struggled to connect with critics, some of whom seem to view him more as a brand or performer than an artist, pointing to “clichéd” lyrics or “grandstanding” ideas. Maybe some of his appeal is lost in translation across a generation gap – he questions the decision to send “some 55-year-old bloke” to review a show attended by thousands of kids.

Yungblud performing at Reading Festival in 2019 (Olly Stabler/Shutterstock)

This new album, from which I’ve been sent four songs, was written during an extended break following the launch of his inaugural festival, Bludfest, in Milton Keynes last summer. While the event itself was a roaring success to both fans and the press, who praised him for its affordable ticket prices, Harrison realised he felt disillusioned by his self-titled third record, which was released in 2022. “I got comfortable”, he says, as we flop down onto a pair of armchairs, “and I think the biggest enemy of any artist is to be comfortable.” He alludes to a bit of a fight with his label over it – the forthcoming record is closer to what he imagined doing three years ago, but he felt pressure to try and replicate the success of Weird!.

“Something was wrong – I kind of felt like I was on a treadmill, or a hamster on a wheel, you know?” he continues. “It’s been such a hard battle, but I’m happy it happened, because I’m getting my own f***ing way now no matter what.” He’s 27 now, and certainly more self-possessed (though still with the same infectious charisma) than he was six years ago, when his flamboyant public persona mostly failed to disguise a young man ill at ease within himself. Back then, bold proclamations about politics and social media scored plenty of brownie points with his eager young fanbase, but tended to prompt eyerolls among, let’s say more adult, critics.

I’m getting my own f***ing way now no matter what

Now, though, both Harrison and his music seem tempered by experience. So far, songs on this new album come across as genuine self-reflection, rather than the bravado of his anti-establishment stance. One particularly affecting anthem was inspired by the death of his grandmother around 2016, “the most glamorous, leopard print-wearing northern lady”, whom he says struggled with alcoholism in her later years. “It’s about watching the deterioration of someone who was so strong, then to do something to themselves that we had to watch.”

He’s clearly proud of the new single, and excited at the prospect of sharing it, but it sounds as though he’s had a lot on his mind, too. “It hasn’t been easy for me,” he admits, fiddling with a silver chain around his wrist. “People either love me or hate me, and I didn’t really know how to deal with that until recently.” Before he started working on this album, he says, he “reeked of insecurity… That’s probably why some people didn’t get me, because maybe some of the stuff I was saying was a bit of a front – I was overcompensating. I had to shut the f***ing doors for a bit.”

Yungblud with Jesse Jo Stark in September 2022 (Getty Images for Tommy Hilfiger)

This apparently included hitting pause on his long-term relationship with American musician and actor Jesse Jo Stark, whose godmother is the singer Cher. Harrison describes Stark as “the love of my life” even while they’re apart, suggesting the break is only temporary. “It was a ‘me’ problem,” he says. “Everything is a ‘me’ problem. I was drowning, and I couldn’t figure out why. I’ve literally got a tattoo of her under my arm, here…” he pauses, looking for the right words. “I don’t know what it is. We needed space, we needed time, and she’s giving me that, because she truly gets me.” As comfortable as he seems confiding about these things (“we’ve known each other a long time”, he observes at one point, quite sweetly – we’ve actually met on just a handful of occasions), it’s also clear that navigating relationships while in the public eye hasn’t come naturally to him: “I needed to look at myself in the mirror, on my own for a while, and ask myself how I can be a better boyfriend, a better brother, son, a better artist.”

He quit drinking, except for the occasional pint with his Sunday roast, and took up boxing instead of going out and caning it every night. “I always had problems with my head and my body and the way I looked, but as I got more famous, it got worse,” he says, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his face. He’s spoken previously about the relentless bullying he suffered at school, from both classmates and teachers who mocked his clothes, makeup and hairstyle.

Working on the album proved to be his salvation. He gathered a small team of trusted collaborators, including producer and songwriter Bob Bradley and his longtime producer Matt Schwartz, and headed to a country house in Leeds, around 20 minutes from where he grew up. “It forced me to surrender my ego but also give me a week to spend on a song if I wanted,” he says. “I didn’t want to go to LA with a bunch of f***ing guacamole pop-rock writers – ‘You need to be out of here for another session at five o’clock…’ – f*** that. I hated that. And f*** bedroom music. I wanted this to sound big.”

Rock music on a bigger scale has been on the cards for some time, though. He has two No 1 albums in the UK and has spent years extensively touring the US in the hopes of doing the near-impossible for a Brit and breaking America. There, his career has been bolstered by a string of high-profile rock collaborations with his ex, pop singer Halsey, and Blink-182 drummer Travis Barker (“11 Minutes”) and rapper/rock singer Machine Gun Kelly (“I Think I’m Okay”). Dave Grohl and Avril Lavigne are noted fans, and with the forthcoming Oasis reunion and Ozzy Osbourne’s farewell show both taking place this summer, the timing for Yungblud’s ambitious, stadium-sized makeover could turn out to be ideal.

Yungblud performing with Halsey at the iHeartRadio Music awards in 2019 (Getty Images for iHeartMedia)

Backing him are veterans including Ozzy himself and his wife/manager Sharon, who cameoed in his music video for “The Funeral”. Sharon recently told Harrison that he reminds her of the Black Sabbath frontman: “She said we have the same way of thinking, and that we’ve experienced similar judgement from people who don’t quite understand us,” he says. “She said I’m like a racehorse at the moment – I can run faster than anyone, outdrink them… but it’s dangerous, because things can get out of control really easily. But all I can do is make sure I understand myself, and it doesn’t matter if other people don’t.” He smiles: “It’s funny that the old rockers get what I’m trying to do.”

Others have been less encouraging. Over the years, Harrison has contended with scrutiny surrounding everything from his sexuality to his upbringing. He was criticised for “queerbaiting”, despite identifying as sexually fluid, or pansexual. He was accused of appropriating the working class by dint of having a northern accent. Sceptics point to his stint on Disney or his attendance at an independent performing arts school in Chiswick when he was 16 as evidence that he is an “industry plant”. This sheer determination to work in the entertainment industry was at odds with his insistence on his punk credentials; ambition, it seems, is still a dirty word to some Brits. UK record labels initially wanted nothing to do with him, so he built his fanbase organically through tours around Europe and the US before signing with Interscope.

Sharon said me and Ozzy Osbourne have the same way of thinking

“That’s why I always laugh when people question my authenticity,” Harrison says, although now he offers more of a wry grimace. “I’ve been in a guitar shop since I was four years old. It was always gonna be rock music, whether I was selling guitars or f***ing playing them.” Just the other night he was hanging out with his old mate Lewis Capaldi, with whom he used to share a flat while they were both trying to get signed, and Fontaines D.C. frontman Grian Chatten: “We were just playing each other what we’ve been working on, hanging out until like, seven in the morning,” he says. It’s something he always hoped would happen: becoming friends with fellow artists who can respect one another despite coming from different places.

“We try to understand each other’s perspective,” he says. “That’s what needs to happen in alternative and rock music and music as a whole, because every single one of us is doing something important, even if it might not be to our taste exactly. It’s all about togetherness and all about unity within art.” It’s a lovely picture – Harrison, Capaldi and Chatten, all completely different artists, bonding over their shared passion for music and completely removed from cynicism. We get up, another hug – he’s off to a meeting with his label team. That jittery energy of the past has been replaced with a quieter kind of confidence. When he sings “hello” at the beginning of the new single, it’s with uncertainty: “Are you out there… Are you with me, against me?” By the end, it’s resolved – as though he’s reintroducing himself. It’s great to meet him again.

‘Hello Heaven Hello’, the new single by Yungblud, is out now