In Francis Ford Coppola’s adaptation of the classic Dracula, Gary Oldman, wearing a top hat, round glasses, and a vest from another century, said to a petrified Winona Ryder: “I have crossed oceans of time to find you.” Few declarations of love possess such beauty and weight. Not even the actor himself (who confessed to accepting the role just so he could say that line) could escape the magnetism of those words.
There are some loves that transcend romance. Sometimes, that invisible bond that crosses oceans and years does not unite two people, but a band with its audience. Palaye Royale is one of those groups capable of dissolving distance, of turning music into a bridge of time and emotion.
The group takes its name from the Palaye Royale, a former dance hall in Toronto where the brothers’ grandparents met. A sentimental legacy that encapsulates the essence of their project: the connection between past, present, and art. Sebastian Danzig was born in Canada, while Remington Leith and Emerson Barrett were born in Las Vegas, the city where they grew up and began to forge their musical identity.
Since their debut with Boom Boom Room (Side A) in 2016, Palaye Royale has created a universe of their own: theatrical, elegant, wild. They define their style as fashion-art rock, a mix of glam, punk, and dark romanticism. But it is with Fever Dream (2022) that they reach their creative maturity, an album that condenses the essence of what they feel for Prague: the mystery, melancholy, and beauty that lurks in the shadows.
Prague, with its aura of legend, was the perfect setting for their magic. A city that seems to have come out of a Gothic dream, with cobbled streets and gas lights casting shadows from another time. There, in La Fábrica hall, the three brothers met with their fans on a damp October afternoon. Young people who waited for hours, dressed in black, with chains, makeup, and excitement, eager for an encounter that went far beyond music.
Remington, the lead singer, radiates a disturbing and magnetic energy. At first glance, he may seem distant, but behind that reserved air lies a sparkling sense of humor and genuine warmth. Sebastian, always impeccable in his pinstriped suits, is the romantic of the group: he enjoys sweet TV series and movies, kind gestures, and simplicity. Emerson, on the other hand, seems like a character straight out of Enter the Void, the Gaspar Noé film he loves; eccentric, funny, with an overwhelming sensitivity, he defines himself as an Uber Princess because he doesn’t drive and prefers to let himself be carried away, literally and metaphorically.
Between photos, hugs, and cigarettes, the three were friendly, kind, and generous with their time and smiles. Emerson joked around, Sebastián listened attentively, and Remington offered knowing glances. Publicist Claire, always on top of every detail, made sure no one missed out on their moment of magic.
That night, under the clear Prague sky, the group enjoyed the city and its calm before the chaos. They talked about music, its ups and downs, and the need to keep their feet on the ground. Remington exuded love for his fiancée Emily, who attended the concert with her parents. The three brothers, who recently lost their mother to cancer, are still going through a deep and intimate mourning process, which they have learned to channel through music. Every chord, every scream, and every jump on stage is also a form of exorcism, a conversation with absence.
The bond between them is unbreakable: they protect each other, push each other, and understand each other without words. Their relationship with the fashion world reinforces that image of a creative tribe. Regulars at fashion shows during the last Paris Fashion Week, the three have styles as distinct as they are recognizable: Sebastian’s polished dandyism, Emerson’s romantic and chaotic air, and Remington’s rebellious sensuality. Their performances often end with torn shirts or shredded jackets: an inevitable consequence of the way they move, jump, and experience the stage as a poetic battlefield.
The next day, the Fortuna Arena became the epicenter of fervor. From the early hours of the morning, fans (some wrapped in thermal blankets, others in leather and velvet) waited impatiently. Palaye Royale was the opening act for Yungblud, but the anticipation was that of a headliner. In the dressing room, it was the calm before the storm: Emerson smoking quietly, elegant, almost cinematic; Sebastian calmly checking every detail; Remington hugging Emily, sharing smiles that anticipated the storm.
Because a concert (and they know it) is not just a show: it’s a ceremony. Thousands of souls gathered in one place, each with their own reasons, but united by the same vibe. Something is about to happen. And it did. The three brothers burst onto the stage like a blaze. Lights, jumps, guitars, sweat, and an almost dangerous energy. For an hour, Prague was theirs. Between pirouettes, races, and climbing the stands, the audience sang along to songs like Showbiz, You’ll Be Fine, and Mr. Doctor Man. Each song was a shared cry, a purge.
When the last chord faded away, what remained were soaked towels, hugs, and the satisfied smiles of those who knew they had given their all. Palaye Royale had crossed another ocean of time, and also of life, to be there.
One of their goals was to play alongside Måneskin. They achieved it. And yet, they don’t seem to be looking for crowns, but rather paths. After resting for a few hours, they returned to their bus, heading for the next destination on their European tour, which will continue until November. Because the show, like life itself, never stops.
And as the vehicle drove away in the light rain of Prague, the certainty remained that rock, when it is true, is still a form of love. Of that love that crosses oceans of time to find us.
