On the Rise
Tsatsamis

Singing his praises over a cappuccino in Bethnal Green, he reveals the truth of the matter: “You know it was Photoshop, right?”

Admittedly, no I did not. For these were seamless edits, recently wiped from the rising pop prince’s socials, only to inspire another billboard design for the release of his new mixtape Tsycophant. “Oh, honey, there will be a real one,” Tsatsamis jokingly manifests. “I love the lore about it, I play into it. How it is now with AI, at the time I was like, ‘If you believe it’s real then what's the difference?’ I was, literally, entirely releasing myself. I have no budget, but all people actually care about is the photos... that social media moment.”

To his credit, the visual for buoyant dance favourite “Faith” has racked up 58k views on YouTube. Directed by Ruby Harris, it’s set in a boxing ring gym complete with exposing group choreo. According to Tsatsamis, real name Peter Tsatsamis-Cooper, it was an “unbelievably cheap production” that required pulling in a lot of favours from supportive friends, his boyfriend on art design. In the end, it only cost a total of one and a half grand. 

Title, of course, denoting a significant George Michael influence, “Faith” plays in the vein of a Wham! all-timer with sexual undertones. Releasing music since 2022, Tsatsamis’ ethereal falsetto vocals are almost as soaring as Jimmy Somerville’s. Reverberating the magic of a glorious lineage of queer synth-pop, the standout of Our Shame carries a hook that conjures the peak of a fresh-faced Olly Alexander emerging as Years & Years. 

Helping to fill a void in gay British pop of the now, Tsatsamis acknowledges his forefathers of yesteryear, but namedrops Frank Ocean, Omar Apollo and Ryan Beatty as adjacent American artists who “probably wouldn’t be branded in the queer music box.” There’s especially a respect for the latter’s album Calico, a refreshing sign, along with the accessibility of releasing music through TikTok and Reels, of a niche perspective shift in a period of unfiltered pop releases. 

“Previously, queer pop has been quite confined to hyperpop and very cliche pop,” he states. “Now we're getting, what does really gay country sound like? What does an Ethel Cain twink sound like? I mean that 100 percent positively. There's so many people where I'm like, ‘Oh, this is so cool,’ and the lyrics are so inspiring, but I've never heard it to this genre before. It's a really cool time.”

There’s even an early Frankmusik, Complete Me-era, aspect to Tsatsamis’ approach to confessional dance-pop. Thoughtful balladry in synth basslines, dancing between Logic and Ableton instrumentation, while cultivating a large LGBTQ following as he venue hops the UK club circuit. His identifying name merged with Slovakian star Adéla, through a solo DJ set takeover, opening for her first ever UK shows at The Lower Third last October: “She's the coolest, kindest. So down to earth, so hard-working. She was already really big, so I had to convince the promoter to let me do it. It was also nice to see there was an alignment of our audiences, which I had hoped for. People actually came up to me, it was a small venue.”

A series of dream live dates, including a headline show at London’s Village Underground in May, signals a time of welcome change. There is pressure to live up to the “Faith” moment, he admits, but Tsatsamis is ready to show off much of the last year and a half. One of the big influences for Tsycophant was his last tour. “Performing ‘Faith’ live, I want to bring that back into when I'm writing songs. What do I feel energised by? I've definitely come more into my confidence of performing and dancing.” The Tsycophant live shows promise to be bigger and better, with Tsatsamis teasing the return of his silver butt plug set piece from “Faith”, only three times the size: “What’s the biggest we can go?” he quips.

Upon our first introduction, judging by his energy, it quickly becomes clear that I’m speaking with a person restored to vitality. It was after graduating from the University of Sheffield, during lockdown, when Buckinghamshire-hailing Tsatsamis had a big argument with his Greek immigrant parents. “For a while they were like, ‘Okay, you do your hobby, as long as you're working, that's fine.’ I was like, ‘This is serious, this is not just a hobby. I've delayed it, I've done it part-time, I'm not giving this up.’” Finding trust in working with a team for the first time, the making of his mixtape has been a process of rejuvenation. Now that the pieces are falling into place, his parents are prouder and more supportive of their son than ever.

One can imagine a state of melancholia after streaming the sad gay yearning of his 2025 year-end closer “Secret Boyfriend”. But at the time of our coffee date, Tsatsamis beams at the mention of mixtape lead “Recreational” – a charge of bouncy, ecstatic electronica, akin to a Patrick Cowley classic playing at a sweaty basement bash in Dalston. Scared to share a different sound, he was pleasantly very assured by the positive reception. Gyrating in an empty parking lot with containers, sporting a bomber jacket and white rugby shorts during peak winter time, Tsatsamis releases his “queer masc” inhibitions: “I feel really sexy. Very, like, ‘Hung Up’ Madonna, Connor Storrie doing his thing outside, this idea of ‘let me just dance.’”

The distinct title of Tsatsamis' sycophancy project plays on the traditionally silent “t” of his name. “I'm hoping that Tsycophant makes the transition a little easier,” he remarks. “I think sometimes people actually just get stumped and they're like, ‘I don’t know how to pronounce this... Tsunami.’” The mixtape’s contents speak to a carefree submission of his character, exposing the universality in escapades driven by desire and desperation, sex, love & other drugs. On old tracks like “Everyone Wants a Piece of You”, Our Shame felt like the first time anyone was really listening. Embracing lust, fallacy, and the ever-present shadow of shame, for the first time, Tsatsamis opened up his heart to the volatility of queer existence.“I had loads of baggage that I needed to write about. Once I'd written about those things, I was like ‘What am I not hearing in queer music now?”’

“Tsycophant came from me just being like ‘What do I want to make that I find truthful and inspiring?’ I'm so proud to be gay. Being gay is, like, the best thing about who I am. I have so many amazing friends, I can go to these incredible nights. You have gossip and you have drama, and it can be really shit, but it's exciting. I was thinking a lot about the significance of pop culture to me personally, I want to reflect what I'm experiencing in my music. I remember quite consciously thinking I feel really confident as a songwriter, to be able to go into a room or by myself write a song about how I'm feeling in that moment.”

Looking to understand, and consciously address, his own sound, Tsatsamis stepped out of his solo comfort zone and spent a long period of writing and producing with a bunch of collaborators. It was while prepping for a studio session with producer Mark Ralph (Years & Years, Zara Larsson) where he came up with the idea, an hour before, for “Angelina” – a bittersweet number about facing the reality of a failing relationship. He may have a degree in history, but Tsatsamis’ Roman Empire is Angelina Jolie, specifically her leg-baring pose at the 2012 Oscars. “I had just recently watched Mr. & Mrs. Smith, no one has ever been as cool as those two are in that film. I was obsessed with Angelina Jolie, and this loose idea of someone being so significant to you.”

Through his management, Tsatsamis was introduced to Max Wolfgang (of Olivia Dean fame). Travelling to Lisbon for three days, the duo worked together on five songs that Wolfgang instinctively wrote, including melodramatic mixtape opener “Violent Thoughts”. Clarence Clarity also offered his production services, sending back and forth files with technical expertise: “Sometimes it's really simple things, like adding a hi-hat, you're like, ‘Oh, this just lifted the song.’ You kind of feel it more than you hear it.” Clarence co-sign “Think About You”, which Tsatsamis wrote at the end of 2024, is a pulsing song about obsession and the emotional turmoil of a situationship: “It's honestly one of my favourite songs I've ever written. It's gonna change my life, I know it.”

Frank in his description of himself as not an inherently visual person, Tsatsamis possesses more of a definite connection with the mood of sonics than style and image. “I feel the textures, like the sharpness or warmth of a synth,” he reveals. “If I'm ever in the cinema or in the theatre, sometimes I’ll zone out and for an hour will just be thinking. I actually find it very inspiring, no one's talking, but you're in a very culturally rich place. I’ll completely go into my own world of production in my head.”

Conceptually, Tsycophant also spends a lot of time addressing the very real anxiety of a queer night out in East London. Its maker coming to terms with a year and a half’s worth of difficulty enjoying dancing, of weird contradictions: “‘I'm so happy I get to be here and I get to be with my people, I've wanted this for so long, but why do I feel really shit? Why am I scared to take my top off? Do I feel pressure to take my top off? Why do I feel like I can't dance because I'm wanting someone to get with me? I leave, and if I don't get with anyone, I feel really ugly and horrible. If I get with someone, I feel unfulfilled.”

“‘Spit or Kiss’ was about getting with this guy who was also part of this scene that loads of my friends of friends were part of. I found myself trying to social climb. ‘Maybe I Should Be More Like You’ is, again, wanting someone's affection and they don't give a fuck, I'm like... ‘Why do I care so much, when you don't care at all? Maybe I should be more like you.’ The people who just breeze by life, why are you not getting hung up by every little thing like I am? It's about this really complicated relationship to my life and these contradictions. Lyrically, I'm so proud of it. I also love how, sonically, it feels a bit lighthearted and silly.”

Making changes to his mode of music-making has given Tsatsamis a new lease of life. He is active and aware of the minority positioning of being a wildly successful gay artist. Naturally, his audience is going to be smaller than Madonna’s. But he is chasing mainstream success, and by getting better at not filtering himself, just like his pop predecessors, there may be hope yet. 

“I think I put a lot of pressure on myself. Like, you go on TikTok and you see, ‘This is the latest thing to go viral.’ Often it's from just not talking about such explicit queer topics, sucking and fucking, whatever, and if they are, it may be not taken as serious. I've been through many waves, and I will continue to go through many waves, as long as I'm saying what I'm saying. I think the mixtape is a good representation of of being like, ‘This is who I am.’”