I was watching his hands, and the way they grabbed at the sides of his wide denim pant legs, bunching a fistful of the fabric just high enough that his feet could stomp wildly on stage. Passion! The kind we seldom see these days. He kept doing this, with little to no thought at all, so he could kick and scuff and romp and rollick all over the stage. When he sang, he leaned over into his mic with his whole spine, face sculpted by the most intense kinds of emotion: heartbreak, contempt, valiance, fear. And joy. So much joy.
Alongside George van den Broek, also known as Yellow Days, the crowd also wore a face of joy, that expression of weightless glee that only comes from watching a passionate performer soar through his setlist. I took part too, witnessing everything unfold from the corner of Lincoln Hall. There was this couple in the crowd embracing each other and singing, swaying in perfect unison and beaming like they actually had a light inside of them, and I saw another girl with one hand clung to her chest and the other pirouetting in the air. I wondered how any of these people got there and why those songs meant so much to them. I realized that I had stopped photographing the show like I was supposed to– maybe for much longer than I should have– and then I realized that I was crying.
For me, a show surpasses excellence when musicality and emotion take the reigns. The musician no longer plays their instrument but speaks through it, moves with it, becomes a part of it. The audience ceases to observe and rather just is: there, in the moment, with the music entirely. That is when a concert becomes phenomenal. At the Yellow Days concert at Lincoln Hall last Monday night, eyes wide and camera at my hip, this is how it felt. Everyone was entirely immersed in just sound and feeling, and it dawned on me that it might have been one of the best live performances I’ve ever seen.
What are yellow days to you? Are they full of luminance, of rolling gold sunshine and happiness? Are they perhaps a more sickly yellow, tinged with nausea or unknowing? Maybe your yellow days leak light from far-away memories, from nostalgic childhood mornings or mornings spent with people long gone? For George van den Broek, the British singer-songwriter behind Yellow Days, the musical project has always been a marriage of all these things. In an interview with Wonderland Magazine, he explained what Yellow Days represents.
“I see it now as just a time in your life when nostalgia or emotions are very high. Sometimes life is straightforward, but then you enter an intense patch of depression, falling in love, heartbreak, missing old friends, or any of the above. To me, Yellow Days is about that intense bit.”
Ever since he began producing and performing as Yellow Days in late 2015, van den Broek’s sound has continued to morph to his changing landscape of emotions and tastes. Through a blend of genres in his discography, the variations in sound and style reflect truly honest work, expressions that come directly from the musician himself.
His most recent touring album, “Rock And A Hard Place”, is deeply soulful, drenched in a silky smooth blend of jazz and funk. True to his typical fashion, van den Broek’s vocals are larger than life, shepherding sound through the softer moments and bursting with energy when the track explodes.
While the album certainly crafts a stellar atmosphere for swinging hips and having fun, there is a much darker intensity behind the production process. This recent music comes after a particularly difficult time in van den Broek’s life that he labels his ‘lost years’: writing music for others while feeling disconnected from the Yellow Days persona. But when he met bassist Stan Woodward out in London one night, things started to change.
“He sort of beat me up into shape and tried to shake me out of the jaded place I’d found myself.”
Van den Broek began channeling his tumult into a production process that felt measured and intentional. With this new discipline and deep emotion, “Rock And A Hard Place” is charged with a creative resurgence: a mosaic of one’s fear, acceptance, and life lessons into one.
And when it is brought to life onstage, the sound is full of honesty. It feels visceral and vibrant, and it gives the performance that intensity that is inescapable. Translating that energy live is the most vital part for van den Broek.
“I’m old-fashioned like that; singing and playing in a room full of people is really what being a musician is all about to me. Making albums is amazing, but to me, there’s almost no point if you don’t get to share them with people in person. I’m taking a whole new seven-piece band out this year, and none of them has ever been to the US. They’re all a bunch of 22-year-old jazz musicians who are so excited to hit the road.”’
On stage, the seven piece band absolutely filled the room with energy, starting the set by individually shaking the front rows’ hands. At the end, they gifted a copy of the set list, the drumming sticks, and a few vinyls to remaining folks in the room.
“In reflection, what I hope is that the discography tells a story of a guy who wasn’t afraid to get it wrong and kept digging into what was possible and bravely so. I have a very intense relationship with music, and if that alone comes across, then I’d be happy with that.”
To check out more Yellow Days, visit their website online.
You can view more photos form the concert at the photo gallery here.
