Tamino - Philarmonie de Paris - 29/06/2026

Two months have passed since Tamino’s last concert in Paris, but it has proven to be one of those shows that are hard to shake off.

To set the scene and freshen the memories, Paris was at the time (barely) recovering from a historic heatwave. The remnants of the hellish past couple of weeks had left everyone weakened and eager for a breath of fresh air. It therefore felt like a reward to step into the grand and cool Philarmonie’s hall, where the audience was lucky to be greeted by the premiere of the singer’s latest clip, directed by none other than Thibaut Grevet. A perfect introduction for a show that cannot be described as anything but cinematic.

The show opens on the gentle guitar of the album’s title track Every Dawn’s a Mountain, followed by other hits from said album, before Tamino eventually takes the audience “back to the old stuff”. Songs from all three albums are played throughout the night, displaying the singer’s growth as a musician and songwriter. To me, it’s the most recent ones of the bunch that shine the brightest. Every Dawn’s a Mountain is a masterwork in terms of vulnerability and poetry, and there’s something very special about witnessing this live. 

Fans favorite that have now been on repeat for years seem to somehow get grander with every show, beneficiating from an orchestration that is sure to leave the audience asking for more. Amongst my favorite moments of the night is definitely the powerful w.o.t.h whose sheer energy leaves me glued to my seat.

As if Tamino’s enchanting voice wasn’t enough, the beauty of the moment is heightened by the force of his band, who plays just as big a part in making this show an unforgettable one. It is said that the cello, considering its range and tone, is the instrument closest to the human voice. Nowhere is this demonstrated better than at a Tamino show, where Frederik Daelemans’ cello blends with the singer’s voice in the most heart-wrenching and soul-elevating duet. It really feels like a privilege to be able to witness such musicality and passion. 

It’s when looking into the crowd that you truly get to measure the extraordinary quality of the show. My perched spot in the seats allows me to see more than a thousand heads looking up, solely mesmerized by what’s taking place in front of them. As cliché as it may sound, it is a surprising sight to see in our day and age. A crowd so hypnotized that they forget, or do not dare disturb the intimacy of the moment with the devices that usually flood a concert audience. 

After two months, fragmented memories of the show periodically flash through my mind: the silence of an enthralled room; the ethereal voice resonating in a venue whose acoustic seem specifically made for this moment; the intensity of Habibi and the feeling of the knife being twisted over and over again; being blinded by the lights, but not minding because what I’m hearing is enough to fill my senses. The comparison to the Book XII of the Odyssey is very lazy, but seems to be the most fitting: “the Sirens who enchant all who come near them”.