SPOTLIGHT: Dreamer Isioma’s Galaxy: A Sonic Tapestry of Self-Creation
DREAMER ISIOMA IS — is starlight on stage.
No one can look away from the sun. Isioma’s energy is coveted and highly desired, with a stage presence that emits an undeniable deity-like quality.
God is an all-encompassing-being, omnipresent. Isioma, too, encapsulates the extremes in just one night of performance. Backstage, they are loose, nonchalant, and, put plainly, “high.” Dreamer and The Celestials, their band, has hotboxed the dimly-lit green room. They create their own moving sky, and the cloudy haze sets the tone, dictating the mood and vibe. Everything behind the curtain and up the stairs is the calm before the storm.
The band had just performed in Portland before entering the Bay Area. When asked what sparks joy for them today, Isioma says, “The sun hits different in California,” a reference to the fact that their San Francisco show is the first one of the tour in which the band will wear stage outfits designed by talented fashion designer Keith Herron.
Isioma recalls their last show in San Francisco during their previous tour, where, at the time, it was a smaller show with around 200 attendees. “Bro, they came to turn up,” Isioma told Tidal in an interview last year. “They were moshing, dancing, going crazy. That was one of my favorite shows that I performed on the tour.”
Like clockwork, or rather the result of Isioma’s hard work for the past years, the show this year in San Francisco is sold out. “It could be a thousand people, it could be fifty people — if they’re there for me, I feel good,” Isioma explains.
From the moment the first instrument sounds, everyone is in Isioma’s orbit. Fans fall in from Fell Street and fill in every crevice of Rickshaw Stop. They are vying to get to the front of the crowd, to bask in Isioma’s warmth and cultivate life by coming alive in the music.
Devotion floods from the crowd like lava flows downstream to the ocean. Like primordial soup, something is born in Isioma’s afrofuturist planet. It’s not just saying “fuck tha world” — it’s about creating a new one for Isioma.
“I feel like we’re in the future right now,” Isioma says when I ask how they see themselves fitting into an afrofuturistic world. “The future is all the time — we’re in the past, the present, the future all the time. [Time’s] just not real. Like, I’m afrofuturism right now — being in this room with people of different races in 2023 is crazy as fuck. The fact that we can all be together is a crazy concept. We’re living afrofuturism.”
Looking into the crowd, there are people of all ages and backgrounds standing in the front, on top of the tables, and on the balcony of the second floor. A plethora of phenotypes — black skin, blue eyes, white hair — and different languages exist in this space at once. Isioma has brought the future into the present at their show.
“Time isn’t real — time is a construct,” they repeat over and over that night. It becomes something of a prayer, as though they hope the concert never ends. In the same vein, Isioma’s tour setlist is all-encompassing of their discography, playing songs such as “Sensitive,” “Valentina,” “Sunset Drive,” in addition to tracks from their newest album, Princess Forever.
Although Isioma does not believe in the passage of time, their decision to release Princess Forever in 2023 rather than 2022, along with Goodnight Dreamer, was a decision they are appreciative of today.
“I was being a hothead,” they say. “I was like, ‘I’m gonna drop two albums in the same year.’ Everybody on my team was like, ‘I think you should relax.’ Obviously, I needed time to really get that shit right.”
There is growth and maturity in their work, marked most clearly by the distinctive self-confidence that came with gender-affirming surgery. “I had collections of songs that I felt like belonged in the project together,” Isioma explains. “After top surgery, I was able to conceptualize the character of Princess Forever. From there, everything clicked. I started studying afrofuturism, like Sun Ra, George Clinton, and people like that. They helped put everything together in my mind for the outfits, aesthetics — all that. I think that this one is a lot more put together. Polished. It's more conceptual.”
Princess Forever represents a battle of good and evil. The album cover shows Princess Forever in the top right corner, battling the oppressors. The world leaders are on the other side, hashing it out. Below them is Terra 2000, which is what the two groups are fighting for, but for different reasons.
Isioma reveals that the oppressors are people who are greedy and want to “take everything for themselves until there is nothing left.” The heroes, however, are composed of young people — specifically, the Wasted Island Youth. This is a community organization that Isioma created a few years ago, meant to bring artists to come and have a platform, whether they have a big following or not. Wasted Island Youth also partners with Isioma’s mom, Irene, with Xanderena Foundation, which provides education and healthcare to people in various villages in Lagos, Nigeria.
Dante Swan, The Celestials’ guitarist, echoes this sentiment. “The sense of community is something hard to find outside of Chicago,” he says. “People of all backgrounds and followings can be seen working together here. It is truly supportive — you can see a new artist talking with someone established in the industry.”
The Celestials themselves are composed of artists based out of Chicago. Swan is the guitarist, Brooklynn Skye plays bass, Antonio Romello is on drums, and Izaya Versus is the DJ who recorded all of Isioma’s vocals. Saint Lewis is the band’s pianist, but he also plays the guitar and has produced more than half of the tracks on Isioma’s album. Isioma, who grew up playing the violin and piano, began to place the plants in their universe when they got on the computer and made music from the comfort of their bedroom. Altogether, the band seamlessly creates a haven for their listeners.
People across the nation look at Isioma with eyes full of stars. Des, a concert-goer who knows every word to all of the songs for Isioma’s performance at the Music Hall of Williamsburg, tells me they love the music because “they just vibe with it,” which is exactly what Isioma says they’ve been going for. Even for the artist themselves, Isioma reveals that they “just be doing what sounds good. If it sounds good, it sounds good.”
Behind such casual coolness, though, Isioma grapples with deeper issues in their music, inspired by the often political work of Nigerian musician and icon Fela Kuti. “Why Pray to God?” ft. Swan is a song that may seem like any other ode to infatuation, a plea for devotion. But their message goes beyond mere adoration and can be interpreted as a deeper call to dismantle gender roles and challenge religious impositions.
As a transmasculine and nonbinary individual, Isioma taps into their personal experiences growing up in a Christian Nigerian household and questions the restrictions imposed by societal norms. The mention of lightning streaking across the galaxy and thunder screams from the moon symbolizes the power and transformative nature of their identity, urging listeners to embrace their own authentic self. By rejecting traditional religious beliefs, Isioma invites listeners to find solace and guidance in their connection, suggesting that personal liberation and freedom lie within, rather than relying on external religious frameworks.
Isioma also hopes to bring awareness to events happening in Lagos, Nigeria. “There’s a lot of oppression and police brutality that is indescribable,” they describe. “If you look like you have money, the cops will extort you and beat your ass. There’s nothing anyone can do about it because how are you supposed to run up on a motherfucker with a fucking machine gun? It’s a lot of bullshit. Like, why can’t I have drip? It’s crazy, but the alt art scene lives on.”
When asked what they have to do every day to feel alive, Isioma explains that theyhave no definitive answer — they are convinced that we are not real. But it is this simple response that encompasses their truth. As a genre-bending artist fusing pop, rock, jazz, afrobeats, R&B, and electronic music, Isioma is alive when they are themselves, loud and breaking boundaries.
Even their process of filming the music video for “Gimme A Chance” in Utah’s salt flats and national parks is a testament to their pursuit of authenticity. “We were doing stunts and rock climbing,” they describe. “It was raw — it had to be done to get the shot.”
One thing is certain about Isioma’s evolution as an artist: their creativity knows no bounds. In the evolution of themselves, Isioma’s persona is an extension of their true self. As they traverse their path, their art becomes a beacon of inspiration, challenging norms and embracing the power of individuality. From their deadname to Isioma and Princess Forever, all are extensions of themselves.
“Life just has to take its course,” they say. “I only write when I feel like it.” Even Isioma waits patiently to emerge from their own chrysalis. When the sun shines right, like the way it did in California, they will emerge.
As Isioma takes their final bow in San Francisco, a celestial aura lingers in the air, transcending the confines of the concert hall. Their performance, a cosmic voyage, guides us through the depths of self-discovery. Isioma’s artistry ignites a universal connection, reminding us that we are all capable of creating our own constellations among the infinite galaxies of possibilities, never to be confined to constructs.
“Remember that none of this is real, and also to stream Princess Forever,” they conclude. “That's all I can say. Run up my socials — I’m cute.”
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