The Seine lapped gently against the hull of Petit Bain, a fleeting moment of calm before Heartworms took the stage and shattered it. The sold-out crowd was already restless, anticipation thick in the air. Sometimes, the buzz mill gets it right—Heartworms deserve every ounce of attention they’ve been getting. Their debut Glutton for Punishment is a striking piece of work, but live, they’re something else entirely.
Jojo Orme commands the stage with an intensity that feels both rehearsed and raw, her presence somewhere between a preacher and a specter. The music is steeped in the legacy of The Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and Depeche Mode, but it never feels like imitation. Instead, it twists and reconfigures those influences into something sharp-edged and hypnotic. Ethereal synth swells give way to jagged bursts of distortion. One moment, the music floats in spectral beauty; the next, it crashes down with punishing weight.
The set ebbed and surged in perfect control, every song delivered with precision and menace. Orme’s voice cut through the haze, alternating between a deadpan drone and a fevered incantation. The audience was locked in, swaying in unison, then thrashing when the moment demanded it. If Heartworms are destined for bigger things—and they are—this show was proof. Paris knew it. You could feel it.
