Music

Perfume Genius: I hear dead people

Sian Rowe | Thursday 22 July, 2010 19:32

In 2008, Mike Hadreas’ web page read: “Cool guy. I think he’s dead”. He didn’t really need to write anything at all. As Perfume Genius’ debut album ‘Learning’ demonstrates, the biography is the songs. They describe relationships with an older man; smoking weed and listening to Joy Division (“Mr Peterson”). There’s addiction (“Write to Mother”), modern love, and coming to terms with homosexuality (“Gay Angels”). Even the piano, the second star of the delicate album, comes with it’s own story. His teacher Maxine, someone he describes as a “legitimate woman”, could easily slip into one of the songs with her grizzled paws, lookalike German Shepherd and fusty aroma.

“I wrote a paragraph about me and it sounded convoluted, like I took myself too seriously,” he explains, smiling as if to prove he’s not desperately morbid. “I don’t like to change things. I tried to go back and re-record the songs at one point but it didn’t feel right. A lot of them I’d only played when I’d written them and I even had to re-remember them for the live show”.

That’s the reason Hadreas is in town. It’s his first UK show at London’s Hoxton Hall, something he’s been looking forward to since signing to Turnstile Records, a UK label that flew out to meet him when he was just a shadow on the net. He admits that the live performances are what he’s always imagined Perfume Genius to be. “Although I am trembly,” he says, putting out his hands, “on stage I think even my brain shakes”.

To calm those nerves, he recruited his friend Alan to sit calmly on the second keyboard, joining Hadreas for duets. “I’ve been a real hippy about that,” he explains of his live setup. “I played with a guy who was a really good musician and I asked him “do you know what that song is about?” and he’d say “um, yeah, sure I do!” and never really say what. I knew that he didn’t know and I needed him to really understand, you know? Alan has been through a lot of things I have and we have similar life experiences and that’s really important. He’s really nice too!”

These meanings have struck a chord with many Perfume Genius fans, who often write letters to Hadreas about how they identify with his experiences. It’s something that he’s found particularly helpful, especially in the moments when he’s not so sure where his music is going. “It’s good that I’m getting these ideas and stories out to people,” he says. “It makes my fear seem so goofy”.

As the show eventually proves, he had little to worry about. Even listeners who have not experienced the troubles that the singer has find his simple stories inspiring. Like Raymond Carver, someone who Hadreas admires, he lets his audience read between the lines.

And perhaps it’s funny, considering his original internet bio, that the kind of fervent fandom that Hadreas inspires is often reserved for, well, dead people. The damp-eyed mythical persona that some have created for him (away from the reality of him loving jodhpur ski pants, wanting to cuddle Tom Jones and loving Diet Coke) isn’t a millions miles away from those surrounding Nick Drake, Kurt Cobain and Ian Curtis.

Yet as he takes stock of the past, he definitely won’t be stopping like those guys. He’ll return to the UK before the end of the year and hole himself away at his mother’s house to write more songs for a second record. “I’ve been learning how to…” he stops and shakes his head. “I shouldn’t say “learning” so much! I mean, I’m figuring out how everything works. I haven’t ever been this healthy and I feel like I’m making the right decisions, even if I haven’t made them in the past. Having people watch me can be strange, but hey, I hope they keep on doing it.”

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