Perfume Genius
It's been three days of overcast, clouds and rain. What kind of summer is this? I find myself drowning in humidity, wondering if there is any relief. Starbucks, movie theaters, and supermarkets are the only venues who offer a cold shoulder. I can't sleep without a sheet or blanket and that makes it difficult when you sleep with a boy whose body temperature seems to be fifteen degrees higher than the average person. A fan sits on my night table, blowing warm humid hair throughout my bedroom. At moments during the night I shiver and want to turn the fan off but I know he's sleeping beside me sweating. He's always wearing a pair of my underwear and the positions he sleeps in are incredibly sexy. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, with the moonlight shining in through the window and just stare at him. I run my fingers up and down his body and I wonder if he feels it. I wonder what he's dreaming, I wonder if he feels me touching him. Sometimes his body does acknowledge my caresses because goosebumps appear on his skin. These are the moments I cherish. The moments that make all those bad moments disappear. I'm usually the cuddler, but last night I was the cuddlee and I'm not sure if there are words to describe how good it feels to be held all night long.
A friend recommended an artist called Perfume Genius just a few days ago. It was a name I've seen on various blogs, but along with all the other names I barely process, it got lost in the shuffle. Since I downloaded the album Learning, it hasn't left my ears. Haunting, confessional and skeletal. Most of the songs on the album are led by a simple piano and Mike Hadreas's quivering voice. But other songs like "No Problem" and "Gay Angels" are soaked in ethereal gloomy organs that sound like the score to a David Lynch film. Some parts Chris Garneau and some parts Khonnor. At times he sounds like Sufjan Stevens, when Sufjan is at his saddest. I haven't connected with an artist like this in so long. Mike Hadreas writes about his life. He wrote a record about "all these experiences: abuse, addiction, suicide, all that cool stuff, [he] couldn't bear to look at." He moved back into his mother's house in Washington state after "running around doing drugs and being fucking insane and getting into some dangerous business," according to his bio. It was in that bedroom of his mother's house that Perfume Genius was born. It was in this isolated and reclusive space that he was able to confront all his personal demons. Records made in bedrooms are always the most intimate and Hadreas doesn't hold back anything.
He wrote a song called "Mr. Peterson" which documents an affair he had with a depressed teacher who eventually commits suicide. Knowing that this isn't fiction, that these songs are the memoirs of a life stricken with grief, sorrow and depression, allows the songs to resonate so much deeper. On the surface, "Mr. Peterson" sounds like a simple song. The piano is almost childish and upbeat. It doesn't hit you until you hear the lyrics being sung.
“My work came back from class / with notes attached / of a place and time / or how my body kept him up at night. He let me smoke weed in his truck / If I could convince him I loved him enough. Enough, enough, enough, enough, enough.”
“When I was sixteen / he jumped off a building. Mr. Peterson, I know were you ready to go. I hope there’s room for you up above, or down below.”
The melody these lyrics are riding on distort your feelings. The melody is simple but the lyrics are filled with intimate details about a sad love affair. The lyrics carry the weight of a dejected heart that has witnessed a lot of pain. If I ever wrote a record, I imagine it would sound like this. Like Jonathan Caouette's Tarnation (a documentary about the filmmaker's life living with a schizophrenic mother), there's a sense of beauty and authenticity with Mike Hadreas's Perfume Genius. It's artists like this, that pull me through my days and my longer nights. They surface through the thick hazy blogosphere. Lately, I've been submerged in the glossy fabrications of pop music. There is only so many times you can sing along to the likes of Katy Perry and Lady Gaga. There is only so much pretentious indie, electro garbage you can listen to until you start drowning in their shallow loops and choruses. I struggle for authenticity in my life and in my art. I need the people in my life to be genuine and candid. I need my music the same way. Perfume Genius is that artist for me. He shatters my heart and I can follow the fractures and cracks with my finger. I can empathize and learn through his words and sounds. He portrays not only doom and gloom but he offers a way of survival. Perfume Genius is a reflective retrospective...of a life with many (personal) demons. It's his vessel to help overcome the tragedies of his life and share them with the rest of us lonely, dejected folk.
This is the video for "No Problem" which reminds me of a scene from a David Lynch film I've never seen.
And this is a live version of his song "Learning" which will pierce and puncture.
Perfume Genius- Mr. Peterson
A friend recommended an artist called Perfume Genius just a few days ago. It was a name I've seen on various blogs, but along with all the other names I barely process, it got lost in the shuffle. Since I downloaded the album Learning, it hasn't left my ears. Haunting, confessional and skeletal. Most of the songs on the album are led by a simple piano and Mike Hadreas's quivering voice. But other songs like "No Problem" and "Gay Angels" are soaked in ethereal gloomy organs that sound like the score to a David Lynch film. Some parts Chris Garneau and some parts Khonnor. At times he sounds like Sufjan Stevens, when Sufjan is at his saddest. I haven't connected with an artist like this in so long. Mike Hadreas writes about his life. He wrote a record about "all these experiences: abuse, addiction, suicide, all that cool stuff, [he] couldn't bear to look at." He moved back into his mother's house in Washington state after "running around doing drugs and being fucking insane and getting into some dangerous business," according to his bio. It was in that bedroom of his mother's house that Perfume Genius was born. It was in this isolated and reclusive space that he was able to confront all his personal demons. Records made in bedrooms are always the most intimate and Hadreas doesn't hold back anything.
He wrote a song called "Mr. Peterson" which documents an affair he had with a depressed teacher who eventually commits suicide. Knowing that this isn't fiction, that these songs are the memoirs of a life stricken with grief, sorrow and depression, allows the songs to resonate so much deeper. On the surface, "Mr. Peterson" sounds like a simple song. The piano is almost childish and upbeat. It doesn't hit you until you hear the lyrics being sung.
“My work came back from class / with notes attached / of a place and time / or how my body kept him up at night. He let me smoke weed in his truck / If I could convince him I loved him enough. Enough, enough, enough, enough, enough.”
“When I was sixteen / he jumped off a building. Mr. Peterson, I know were you ready to go. I hope there’s room for you up above, or down below.”
The melody these lyrics are riding on distort your feelings. The melody is simple but the lyrics are filled with intimate details about a sad love affair. The lyrics carry the weight of a dejected heart that has witnessed a lot of pain. If I ever wrote a record, I imagine it would sound like this. Like Jonathan Caouette's Tarnation (a documentary about the filmmaker's life living with a schizophrenic mother), there's a sense of beauty and authenticity with Mike Hadreas's Perfume Genius. It's artists like this, that pull me through my days and my longer nights. They surface through the thick hazy blogosphere. Lately, I've been submerged in the glossy fabrications of pop music. There is only so many times you can sing along to the likes of Katy Perry and Lady Gaga. There is only so much pretentious indie, electro garbage you can listen to until you start drowning in their shallow loops and choruses. I struggle for authenticity in my life and in my art. I need the people in my life to be genuine and candid. I need my music the same way. Perfume Genius is that artist for me. He shatters my heart and I can follow the fractures and cracks with my finger. I can empathize and learn through his words and sounds. He portrays not only doom and gloom but he offers a way of survival. Perfume Genius is a reflective retrospective...of a life with many (personal) demons. It's his vessel to help overcome the tragedies of his life and share them with the rest of us lonely, dejected folk.
This is the video for "No Problem" which reminds me of a scene from a David Lynch film I've never seen.
Click to viewAnd this is a live version of his song "Learning" which will pierce and puncture.
Perfume Genius- Mr. Peterson