Yungblud / Return to Dust – Brady Music Center, Cincinnati, OH

May 6, 2026

s a 44-year-old high school English teacher and suburban housewife, I am hardly the target demographic for Yungblud (Dominic Harrison). Yet, thanks to the 'Older Women Love YUNGBLUD' TikTok trend, he has been showing up on my feed in all his tattooed torso glory. In fact, a woman nearby in the line to enter the YUNGBLUD: Idols World Tour said “I heard he likes older women” and “I want to lick his face," which supports the viral trend dedicated to women, ages 30-50 (sometimes dubbed "Mumbluds”), who really enjoy his tattooed torso.

But, I didn’t come to the Andrew J Brady Music Center just for the view; I came to see if the English-born provocateur could translate his online charisma into a genuine musical substance. Could his cult following be combined with commercial success? Listening to his studio albums was sure to be a very different experience than hearing them live.

Before the show, the line wrapping around the Brady Music Center—a sea of leather, boots, signature black and pops of pink socks—felt less like a concert queue and more like a reunion. Members of the Black Hearts Club (BHC)- known as one of the most inclusive, supportive, and safe communities in modern music- chatted and reminisced. Concert goers of all ages, styles, and tastes milled around in graphic shirts which ranged from NIN, Sublime, Lamb of God, Dropkick Murphys, to “weird mom’s build character.” I also saw a student of mine before I even got through the doors.

Inside the venue was no different. Very modern. Black and chrome. It was intimate with big venue feels. Small enough to keep seeing the same people over and over, but large enough to host the sold out show, and all the energy the fans brought. A quick tour of the space showed a very inclusive area for those in wheelchairs and with sensory sensitivities, as well as a space for the two Sign Language Interpreters. The merch lines far outpaced the bar lines, and there was major girl power energy in the bathroom.

Opening act Return to Dust delivered a technically solid set at 8 PM, with lots of long hair and suggestions of shirts. Unfortunately, a 45-minute gap followed, nearly smothering the night’s momentum in a lull of prolonged waiting for the headliner.

Thankfully, there was a noticeable change in the enthusiasm at nine as more concert goers arrived and the anticipation became tangible: feet shifting, watch checking, louder talking. It was hard to not get swept up in the fever of the fans when the lights finally dimmed. The spectacle began not on stage, but on screen. From where I was standing, right behind the video operators, I could see a camera filming backstage. I saw Dom applying a final layer of eyeliner and donning his leopard print vest (which didn’t last very long on stage). He truly looked happy. He was having fun. Just excited as we were.

They made a bold, almost arrogant choice by opening with the near ten-minute epic “Hello Heaven, Hello” from the recently released Idols album. It had the energy, emotion, and big finish of a grand finale (think confetti cannons), leaving me wondering how the set would build and if his voice could possibly sustain that intensity for an entire show.

His second song “The Funeral” highlighted his stage presence. There were hints of Freddie Mercury and Mick Jagger in his moves. This song had a great call and repeat relationship with the crowd and he played to every single corner, making sure no one was left out, singing each line to a specific person.

Tracks like “Idols Pt. 1” channeled the nostalgic fist-pump of a John Hughes movie. His sound was recognizable yet new, echoing everything from The Beatles and Queen to the grit of Guns N’ Roses. He cleanly delivered every big note this song had to offer while carrying himself with the classic ‘pretty-boy’ swagger of a modern rock star, leaning into his looks with a wink and a grin.

The rest of his show had more connection, big notes, running and jumping.
There were some parts toward the middle in which the lights became a little overbearing. If Yungblud needed to fabricate energy and excitement, the strobes would make sense, but he didn’t need it – he was enough. Towards the middle of his set he sang “My Only Angel,” a collaborative song with Aerosmith, and my only note is that it was too short. I wanted more.

Even though he had the audience in the palm of his hand, the Ozzy Osbourne tribute and cover of “Changes” became a heartfelt connection with the crowd. He asked if he could dedicate this song to his “dear friend in the sky.“ It was the first (only?) time in the show when his body was calm.

More production highlights included pulling a fan onstage to play guitar for “Fleabag,” throwing cups of water, pyrotechnics, and swinging his mic cord around his neck. He jumped off the stage, made dreams come true in the front row, then had the fans in the middle of the floor hold him up while he finished the song. After his last note, he belly flopped into the crowd. There was plenty of banter with the audience and at one point he declared “I want to stay in Cincinnati forever.” Oh, Dom. I bet you say that to all the cities.

It was written all over his face, from start to finish, that Dominic Harrison really enjoys himself on stage. His fan interactions online aren’t just viral moments; they are the core of his brand and self: constantly smiling, winking, dripping with charisma, making eye contact as though he had an inside joke with every person. He performed with a playful narcissism that felt more like an invitation than an ego. There was a heavy reliance on the audience singing through the gaps, but it was seamless, and not because he couldn’t do it himself; he was performing with us, not for us.

It is impossible to ignore the sheer gravitational pull of Dominic Harrison, and believe me, I was not the only 40-something mom there getting sucked in.