Yves Tumor - Heaven To A Tortured Mind (LP)

Some records feel like a turning point the second the needle hits. Heaven To A Tortured Mind is one of those, the moment Yves Tumor turned swagger into an instrument and made a guitar record that still felt thrillingly strange. Released in April 2020 through Warp, it arrived right when we needed a bit of theatre, a spark of danger, something glamorous that didn’t forget its weirdo roots. Sean Bowie had already proven they could bend noise and ambience into gripping shapes, but here the shapes strut.

Gospel For A New Century kicks the door in with brassy blasts and a rhythm section that moves like a nightclub mirror ball. It is the kind of opener that redefines the space around it, gritty yet polished, and carried by a vocal that half-snarls, half-serenades. The song came with a delirious clip directed by Isamaya Ffrench, and that visual language sticks to the music, all horns and heat and satin. If you are coming from older Yves Tumor albums on vinyl, the shock is not that it rocks, but how confidently it does so.

Kerosene! is the showstopper, a smouldering duet with Diana Gordon that feels like a slow dance with sparks underfoot. The guitars bend and squeal, the drums stay unbothered, and the voices circle each other with a desire that is both cinematic and a bit poisonous. It is romantic in the way glam has always been romantic, which is to say it recognises the storm gathering behind the curtain. Gordon’s presence is perfect, and the way the song builds to that final rush is the kind of thing that made so many listeners fall hard for this era of Yves Tumor.

The middle stretch loosens the collar without losing the pulse. Romanticist sweeps in with smoky chords and overlapping voices, and before you have time to check the tracklist it spills into Dream Palette, a one two that turns the album into a runway. Guitars scratch, synths ooze coolant, drums flicker in and out. You can hear Bowie the arranger in full control here, keeping the chaos shapely. Strawberry Privilege tilts the mood again, a sighing tune that drifts like ash and lingers like perfume. It is a favourite among fans for a reason, the softness a foil to the record’s heavier grind.

What makes Heaven To A Tortured Mind stick is the way it merges tactile band energy with a producer’s sense of negative space. You get handclaps that sound three feet away, bass that sits right in the ribcage, and little production flickers that reward headphones as much as a loud room. The album landed to widespread acclaim, earned Best New Music from Pitchfork, and turned up on plenty of 2020 lists, the sort of consensus win that still feels a bit rebellious because the music itself is so slippery. It never settles into a single lane, yet it never sounds uncertain.

On vinyl, this thing sings. The low end blooms, the horns on Gospel feel even brasher, and Kerosene! takes on a humid, physical weight that digital rarely nails. If you collect Yves Tumor vinyl, you already know the pressings tend to vanish quickly, so Heaven To A Tortured Mind vinyl is one to pounce on when you see it. Spin it loud in a small flat and the room fills up like a red-lit venue, the kind of private gig that leaves you a little dazed. If you like to buy Yves Tumor records online, keep an eye on reputable shops, though I have had good luck wandering into a Melbourne record store and finding a copy tucked in the new arrivals bin. For crate diggers hunting vinyl records Australia wide, this album is a smart add to the shelf, a modern art rock classic that actually gets played rather than admired from a distance.

Four years on, the record’s grip has not loosened. It still feels lusty and dangerous, full of sharp edges and velvet. It continues a lineage that runs through Roxy Music and Prince, but it never feels like a costume. Yves Tumor found a way to make glamour feel cracked and human, and that human streak is what makes these songs last. If you are mapping out Yves Tumor albums on vinyl, this is the cornerstone, the one that turns a curious listen into a full blown obsession.