YUNGBLUD at the O2

YUNGBLUD at The O2, London — 2026-04-24

I went into Yungblud at the O2 with a fair amount of scepticism.

Not because I don’t get it, but because I almost get it. The hype has always felt slightly oversized, the fandom slightly intense, the whole thing hovering just outside of something I fully buy into. There’s a difference between impact and insistence, and he sits somewhere in between.

In less than five years, he’s gone from breakout outsider to a defining figure for a generation that sees itself reflected back in him. Not just big, but important to the people who follow him.

Walking in, it’s immediately clear this isn’t just a gig. It’s a community.

The crowd is more mixed than expected. Young women who have been camping and queueing since 7am hold the front, some with “it’s my birthday” signs, all with the hope of Dom coming to the barrier, maybe a hug, potentially even sharing a cigarette. But they’re not the only ones. There are people in their 30s and 40s, groups, parents, long-time gig-goers who have bought into it too. Everyone meets in the same place emotionally. They know every word before a note is even played, and they make sure you know it too.

War Pigs fills the room before he’s even on stage, the crowd singing along, holding the moment in place. When he finally appears, it’s straight into Hello Heaven, Hello and The Funeral, no pause, just a sharp shift from anticipation to impact.

He barely stops moving. Circling the stage, then dropping to his knees, then onto his back, each moment pushed a little further, like he’s constantly chasing the next level of intensity. Pyro punctuates the bigger beats, everything sitting just on the edge of excess.

The set barely lets up. Lovesick Lullaby, fleabag, Lowlife, all delivered with that restless, slightly chaotic energy that defines him. My Only Angel, his collaboration with Aerosmith, and Black Sabbath’s Changes feel deliberate, less nostalgia and more a statement of where he places himself.

Before Changes, he pauses. “You don’t mind if I dedicate this song to a dear friend in the sky tonight.” A nod to Ozzy, and one of the few moments where everything drops back slightly and feels more grounded.

He works the crowd constantly. Hands in the air, again and again, pushing for that shared moment. At one point he’s trying to get all of London to stick their tongues out on cue, the kind of thing that sounds ridiculous on paper but somehow lands in the room.

And then there’s Mike. Pulled from the crowd, handed a guitar, suddenly living out the kind of rockstar fantasy most people leave behind in their teens. Playing fleabag in front of 20,000 people like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s chaotic, a bit rough around the edges, but exactly the kind of moment his audience is there for.

But the real story is in the crowd.

Every lyric is shouted back like it matters. Arms around strangers, people crying, people grinning, completely locked in. It’s less about watching him and more about what he represents to them. That connection carries a lot of the night.

And yet, underneath all the hype, something doesn’t quite land for me. The tears on stage, the hands to chest, the way he stops to fix the crowd with that deep, almost unbroken stare, like he’s trying to hold onto every face in the room, to show them how much they mean to him. It’s clearly sincere, but it can feel slightly over-presented, like the emotion is always dialled all the way up. Ironically, that’s exactly what the crowd is there for. They take it in completely, no hesitation.

Does it always work? Not entirely.

At times you start to wonder what it would feel like if he pulled it back slightly, let a moment sit without pushing it further, trusted the songs to do more of the work.

But then something like I Need You (To Make The World Seem Fine) lands, or the run into the encore, and the room lifts again.

He closes with Zombie and Suburban Requiem, a big, emotional finish that the crowd throws everything back into.

Whether you are fully converted almost stops mattering.

This is clearly his moment. A rapid rise, a deeply invested audience, and a connection that feels very real in the room. You don’t have to be all in to recognise it.

I’m still not entirely convinced.

But I get it more than I did.

And honestly, let the kid have his day.

Setlist

Hello Heaven, Hello / The Funeral / Idols Pt. I / Lovesick Lullaby / My Only Angel / fleabag / Lowlife / Changes / I Need You (To Make The World Seem Fine) / Fire / War / Loner

Encore

Ghosts / Zombie / Suburban Requiem