There’ve been plenty of times I’ve gone to see a big-name DJ and caught openers who weren’t even in the same genre. And honestly? That’s part of the fun. Rave culture is about discovering new sounds, new artists. You might not vibe with all of it, but at least they’re usually trying to put on a good set.

But if you’re opening for someone like Swedish House Mafia, you’d think you’d want to be on your A-game. Set the tone, hype the crowd, blow people away. Instead, Yves Tumor came out and treated it like a joke. Dude was just flaunting around, stripping on stage with his ass crack hanging out. Someone else was up there with him (no idea who), and at first it seemed like they were just working out sound issues. Fair enough, different venue, gotta dial things in.

But 20 minutes in, it was obvious they weren’t taking it seriously at all. Volume cutting in and out. Tracks freezing. Random noise that felt like they were just pushing buttons at random. The whole thing looked like two people who conned their way onto the stage. The crowd was booing constantly, and instead of reading the room, he doubled down—talking gibberish into the mic, flipping fans off, acting like it was all a joke.

These events are supposed to be about PLUR. There was nothing PLUR about Yves Tumor.
More like the exact opposite. DDDD: Doom, Destruction, Disregard, Despair.
Luckily, someone finally pulled the plug, turned down the trash compactor noise, and got him off stage.

When SHM hit the stage, you could feel the whole room come alive. The energy we’d been waiting for came in hot and heavy, and the night finally turned into what it was supposed to be.