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Mesmerized at the Perfume Genius Show
When you have no choice but to stan.
I’m back, nerds! True to Eliza C. Thompson form, I started this newsletter after years of hemming and hawing…and then I waited four months to send another issue because of additional hemming and hawing. Too many years in digital media made me think I needed a hot take to write anything, and I had no hot takes, so to my rotted brain that meant I couldn’t write. But then a couple weeks ago I was doing one of my favorite activities—attending a concert alone—when I realized I don’t need a hot take at all: This is my fuckin’ newsletter! I can do whatever I want, and if what I want to do is fangirl out, then that’s what I’m gonna do. (This was also partly inspired by me reading Rob Sheffield’s very fanboyish book about Taylor Swift [complimentary], which I enjoyed so much I considered sending him an email about how much I liked it before chickening out.)
So let’s set the scene. Earlier this month, I enjoyed the great privilege of seeing Perfume Genius at the Brooklyn Paramount, a new-ish venue that has quickly become one of my favorites. Perhaps you have heard my TED Talk about how the floor near the back is SLANTED, which is what I, a very short person, think should be a LAW at every venue! It’s also very beautiful inside! And just a short ride away on the G train! And across the street from Junior’s and even though I have never actually gone there for cheesecake afterward one of these days I WILL!
Anyway, Perfume Genius is someone I try to see whenever he’s in town, to the point I can’t even remember how many times I’ve seen him now. I think he’s properly rated by the “hip” music press—they love him on Pitchfork, etc.—but I don’t think he’s famous enough, given how amazing his music is, and I don’t think enough of my friends listen to him. I’m calling you all out specifically because you’re the only people reading this.
Even having seen him about 400 times, I was absolutely mesmerized by this performance. I did not check the setlist ahead of time (against type), and I did not check it during the show, either (extremely against type). I kept saying to myself I would go buy a second wine when he did a song that I didn’t like, but no such song ever came! It was just banger after banger after banger. At one point I thought he was about to play a song I didn’t like, but then it was just one I didn’t know—and then when I kept listening I liked it! Truly, this is so rare for me. I peed during The Eras Tour. I peed during the Renaissance Tour. I’ve seen Harry Styles like five times and never once sat through an entire performance of “Treat People With Kindness.” But for this glorious 90 minutes, my bladder was quiet.
If you’re not familiar with PG’s music, then I don’t really want to try to describe it for you—it’s best if you just listen. On a general level, it’s pop, but sometimes it’s just Mike Hadreas (his real name) and a piano, and other times it’s a wall of sound and distortion that rattles your bones. The live shows often remind me of Mitski, in that he’s always trying new arrangements of old songs, and he’s doing his best to give you a show on a midsize stage and an indie rock budget. For example, at this concert, he sometimes danced with a chair on a revolving platform. Again, riveting, unless you’re the (I assume) straight guy coming out afterward who said he didn’t like that part. Everything’s not for you, babe!
The real selling point of PG, though, both live and on record, is his voice. He can belt and he does, but then sometimes he sings like he’s whispering just to you, and before you know it you’re in tears in public as he croons about his boyfriend and bandmate, Alan. (Mike’s songs about Alan are some of his best and I don’t care if it’s parasocial to say so: “Me & Angel” from Glory, “Alan” from No Shape.) If I have one complaint about the show, it’s that Mike didn’t sing more songs by himself with his piano. Sometimes you just want to cry with strangers to “Sister Song,” you know?
To be clear, I was also laughing a lot—Mike’s stage banter is very funny, which isn’t surprising if you’ve ever seen his Twitter account. At one point he said he tried to cut his pubes with a pocketknife before the concert because they were sticking too far out of his pants and no one could find him any scissors, and I had the completely unhinged thought that I missed my calling in life and should have been a tour manager so I could be the person finding Perfume Genius a pair of scissors to cut his pubes minutes before showtime. In the sober light of day I realized being a tour manager probably wouldn’t improve my finances in the way I need them to be improved, but these are the kind of thoughts a good show should be inspiring every time. Music so beautiful it makes you want to abandon your life and hit the road! Settle for nothing less!
When the show was over, it felt like there could have been a legitimate encore. Not just people screaming for one and the band coming out for their planned last song, but a real encore where the crowd is simply too feverish to hear more and the artist has no choice but to comply. Alas, this didn’t happen, so I planned to have a personal encore on the way home but had forgotten my stupid headphones. I also immediately checked Setlist.fm to see if anyone had added the night’s setlist so I could make a playlist of it, but no one had. Eventually someone did but noted it was “out of order,” and I realized the next step in my evolution toward middle-aged audiophile is becoming the person who meticulously updates Setlist.fm. Admitting is the first step.
On Repeat:
“What’s Fair” by Blondshell
Really the whole new Blondshell album, If You Asked for a Picture, which came out in May. She had a show in NYC this past weekend but I couldn’t go because I was seeing Kelsey Waldon…who is the subject of my next newsletter! No, really, it’s in drafts.
My Clippings:
I mostly only write about the Diddy trial these days, but in the midst of that misery I got to do this fun little throwback piece about Mariah Carey’s debut album. It still slaps, in case you forgot! As does her new song, “Type Dangerous.” She’s the Songbird Supreme for a reason, OK?