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ake Jackie – the first track on their The Asymptotical World EP for Warp. It’s a searing slice of psych rock that addresses a relationship in limbo. Tumor’s anguished lyrics chart the familiar stages of post-breakup life: insomnia (“These days have been tragic/ I ain’t sleeping”), appetite changes (“Refuse to eat a thing”) and the masochistically ruminative thought processes (“When you rest your mind/ Do you think of me?”). And while these all cut deep, it’s the line “we were torn apart right by the sleeve” that sticks. As physical as it is poetic, it’s an apt description of Tumor’s musical approach, and a loose metaphor for 2021.

Tumor’s delivery is critical. Each wounded croon emphasises this heartache as they transform what’s universally recognised as a pretty shit situation into art that’s both beautiful and bruised. Tumor has created some of their finest songs in this sweet spot, a space so desperately romantic and raw it becomes altogether toxic. Think Kerosene!, Honesty, Licking an Orchid… but none of these are quite as bracing as Jackie.

Which is what makes the track so fascinating. On 2020’s Heaven to a Tortured Mind, Tumor adorned themselves in the signifiers of a certain streak of rock – the swagger, the alien sexiness. With Jackie, they levelled up. This was Yves Tumor at their most exposed, and yet their most untouchable. Even the artwork – an image of a guitar-wielding pin-up, one knee dipped as if they’re about to flood our ears with the world’s most frenzied solo – feeds into this vision of them as a rock star figure. One who lives at the extremes, expressing their innermost emotions, striding across stages like a god, but who shuns revealing the moments in between.

Jackie’s place is undoubtedly on the stage. For one, it’s a stadium-sized song – the kind that deserves a sound system that can hack the maelstrom of towering guitars and punishing drums encased within its exhilarating, tightly-packed production. But also, there’s a curious distance between Tumor and the listener across the track. They are not strictly singing to us. Instead, it’s as if they are singing into the void, hoping their lover, or whoever Jackie may be, is out there listening, yearning for them in return.

On stage, with Tumor in all their – whisper it – Prince-esque glory, this distance will be replaced by closeness. Closeness between Tumor and their fans, their fans and one another. In a year like this year, when catharsis was so tantalisingly close yet so qualified, it’s the connective experience we’ve craved. Almost as much as Tumor craves Jackie.