In an alternate universe, you’re wandering the Lower East Side on a summer day. The city is sweltering, reeking of boiled urine and subway sweat—yet somehow, the palpable joy of New Yorkers in cutoff jean shorts and corded headphones desperately savoring days like this eclipses the sensory overload. It’s too early for happy hour, and you’re too caffeinated for another latte, so you stumble into the nearest park. And there he is, Shane Boose, perfecting his kickflip. It may have been a real possibility once, but Shane is no longer in New York City (like he once was), or kicking it at the skate park (as he once did). He’s no longer even Shane Boose, but better known mononymously as Sombr. Now, he’s an alt-pop rockstar-in-the-making, embarking on his first European tour. 

Sombr’s gift—and occasionally, curse—is his penchant for creating hits. You might remember “caroline,” a gut-punch of a ballad that showcased the singer’s faultless falsetto that perhaps partly inspired his artist project with its, well, somber tone. He was then just a junior at LaGuardia—the storied arts school best known for birthing stars like Timothée Chalamet, Nicki Minaj, and the 1980 cult classic Fame—is brutal for any high achiever. He was so good that after “caroline,” Shane Boose became a former LaGuardia student and Warner Music’s newest signee.

“When it became apparent that this could be a career, [I felt like] I had the ability to drop out of school and do music full time,” he says, reflecting on the single’s success. 

"But where I’m at now—that’s something that seemed impossible...that is something no one can predict.”

From a cultural standpoint, where the 20-year-old is “at” now is reaching over 40 million people monthly on Spotify, but physically, he’s holed up in a hotel room in Cologne, Germany, exhausted. Despite the singular thrill of hearing his lyrics echoed by fans—the demanding schedule and post-show adrenal crashes of touring can be difficult. Even with a learned outlook of live performance and songwriting as the “yin and yang” of artistry, it’s been an adjustment.

“It is lonely,” Sombr reveals. “I am at an all time high when I’m on stage, then all of a sudden you’re in a hotel room in a city you’ve never been to, you’re not in your own bed, I’m not in my studio and it’s like, ‘What do I do now?’”

When he’s not touring, Sombr is creating a new song every day. Unlike most newbie artists, he does not frequently collaborate with other songwriters, preferring instead to compose solo, then co-produce himself. Sombr’s energetic signature is evident across his body of work—his process rendering each track almost immediately viral. 

“It’s less that I know a formula for a hit, more so that I know if something I make is special or not,” he explains. “Everything I write, there’s always the commercial aspect in the back of my mind—it’s my job—but ‘back to friends’ was the first thing where I was trying to do nothing and chasing nothing…and it ended up being the song that changed my life.”

Together, his recent singles are nearing one billion streams—a milestone that inevitably raises questions about replication. In the darkness of the night, when Sombr wonders if he can pull it off again, he remembers a lesson the entire entertainment industry would do well to learn: the same trick won’t work twice.

“I can’t hand people a ‘back to friends’ or ‘undressed’ clone,” he says. “They’re smarter than that. Art is something that should come naturally—fully just raw emotions and making art for the sake of making art.”

Both “back to friends” and “undressed” delineate Sombr’s creative process clearly: he lives it, to feel it, to sonicize it. They are trilogized by “we never dated,” which similarly autopsies an old situationship. Fans regularly draw parallels between his lyrics and pop culture—most memorably Lily Potter and Snape, two ill-fated Harry Potter characters—but Sombr’s muse was never fiction. Instead, she’s an amorphous outline who is only now solidifying into “the one who got away.” She’s a sonic manifesto of lost love, born from Sombr’s emotionally immersive approach to songwriting. She’s as real as she sounds.

Of course, this kind of vulnerability is known to mobilize amateur detectives, and Sombr’s output is no different. Lyric-dissectors and volunteers to become Sombr’s one who got away replacement dominate his social media commentary. It’s mostly playful, but a passionate minority have taken up arms to avenge his honor against his would-be heartbreaker. It’s all good for business, but Sombr refuses to indulge them. 

“People will tag girls under my videos and say, ‘It’s this person,’ and then that person’s comments will get flooded with hate, like, ‘Why did you break him?’” he says in disbelief. 

Still, it’s easy to identify with their projections. Sombr has a scroll-stopping, nostalgic beauty, devastating for both those who came of age in the indie sleaze-era, when skinny men in skinny jeans left destruction in their wake, and the younger generation who romanticize the same era. Sombr maintains that there are no groupies to be found outside the stage door, but it’s difficult to believe him—especially with Pinterest pages dedicated to “Sombr concert outfit ideas.”

“I’m a loner,” he says, simply. 

Somehow, in spite of these metrics, Sombr has managed to maintain that nebulous, highly-coveted quality that makes music suits press their palms with glee: mystique. Online, Sombr appears almost entirely solo: a ghostly mirage infiltrating the ‘For You’ page with his signature mop of curls. Even with fame fast-approaching, Sombr is still able to lumber through the world, unbothered by fans. He may open his phone occasionally to a covertly-captured video of himself, but this he takes as a compliment. They’re listening to the music, and they like it. “If you’re an artist who wants to reach people, that’s the best thing that can happen,” he says of being recognized. 

But public favor isn’t the only pay off. A stylized heartthrob for the algorithm age, it will surprise few to learn Sombr has now been inducted into high fashion via Saint Laurent. Last month, he even sat front row at their Paris show.

“I’m definitely in a new era in my life—everything new that’s happening, as amazing as it is, it’s something that I’m not used to. But the one thing that always stays the same is the music. No matter how famous or known I may be, that’s the one thing that’ll stay the same.”

While he intends for music to remain his primary outlet, a career in film is not unappealing (“If you’re reading this, I’m available to act,” he states clearly for the record). For that, he’s come to the right place. Like many native New Yorkers, Sombr made the pilgrimage west to California, and yet, he remains unfazed by the glamorous see-and-be-seen culture that consumes most creatives when they touch down in the entertainment capital. 

So why is he doing it? Instead of staying in school and skating Manhattan? It’s not because he has a north star—following the footsteps of Lana Del Rey or Jeff Buckley is futile when their success predated skips or saves. It’s not for fame or fortune. Sombr does this because it’s all he knows. And because someone, someday—hell, maybe five minutes from now—someone will tell him, “Your song changed my life.” 

“The only thing I want to do is just keep doing it until I die. Keep touching people, whether it’s one or a million or a billion.”

Before you ask—yes. Inside Sombr is still Shane Boose, the kid from the Lower East Side who once spent gloriously carefree summers shredding the city streets. 

Ultimately, though, this grind is more rewarding. 

“I think at the end of the day, I made the right decision,” he says. 

Photographed by Theo Le Foll

Styled by Guillem Chanzá

Written by Beatrice Hazlehurst 

Grooming: Brady Lea at A-Frame Agency

Flaunt Film: Mel Ziane produced by Trés Bien D'accord

Casting: Chris Brenner

Location: Hotel Sax Paris