Romi Sage

Romi Sage doesn't chase the spotlight — he teases it. With a smirk behind every lyric and a groove under every syllable, Romi walks the fine line between smooth and subversive. Born in Lisbon and raised between record shops and rooftop parties, he grew up idolizing the effortless cool of Prince, the rhythmic swagger of George Michael, and the punchy charm of early 2000s pop. His voice slides — not in haste, but in style. It dances over slap basslines and syncopated guitar licks like it’s dodging commitment. Romi doesn’t just sing about love; he dissects it with irony, flirts with it, then leaves it on read. His stage presence is magnetic — not because he demands attention, but because he never asks for it. Beneath the glam and glitter, though, there’s always a crack. That’s where Romi shines the most — in the clever melancholy, the playful ache, the smile that knows better. His performances are less about perfection, more about pulse. Plastic Skies & Paper Towns isn’t a love song. It’s a stylish spiral — romantic delusion in disco heels. It's funk with a wink. And with Romi Sage at the mic, it’s impossible to ignore.