Live Review: Perfume Genius, Aldous Harding

Aldous Harding dealing a sombre folk tune with goth overtones in a kind of thick, Celtic accent with a certain intensity impressively silences the crowd who listen intently to everything she sings. Despite the gravity of her tunes, the hilarity of Harding’s in-between-song banter leaves us feeling that she should also be a stand-up comedian. “I know it’s boring and droney and just goes on and on and on. I know, I wrote the song,” she says as the crowd giggles. Her jokes are punctuated by lengthy swigs from a bottle of beer. After playing just three songs, she balks at the idea of having to play anymore and then, looking like she’s about to throw up, says, “Lord knows I drank the world last night”. Harding’s unhinged stage persona has us in stitches, but there is no denying the obvious beauty of her music. An unaccompanied version of the anthemic Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien brings her set down in fine Parisian style.

Mike Hadreas, Perfume Genius, excites the crowd when he quite outrageously steps onto the stage, resplendent in black patent heels, fishnets and a long black tee/dress to deal a fierce version of My Body. The only hint of colour splashed on him is ruby red lipstick and matching fingernails. The twinky transgender thing Hadreas has got going on matches the confrontational lyrics of cuts such as Dark Parts and 17. A dark cover of Mary Maragret O’Hara’s Body’s In Trouble precedes the messy electro-pop of Grid. Throughout the set Hadreas returns to his piano to deal wistful, melancholy ballads like Learning, for which he is accompanied by his obviously adoring boyfriend Allan Wyffels. The gentle drift of Rusty Chains highlights the soft angelic qualities of Hadreas’ voice in ways that bring to mind Art Garfunkel. In between songs, Hadreas seems awkward and perhaps a little shy. He doesn’t know quite how to address his adoring fans, but is just happy that they are here. The songs are short and Hadreas and his band play most of his last two albums in just over an hour. The perfectly pop moments of Fool, Hood and Queen, which have drawn comparisons to Bowie, are exquisite, feelgood moments. The latter, of course, seethes as it moves beyond just flipping a bird at homophobia and celebrates being completely queer. The devastatingly beautiful Normal Song and Katie bring down the night by encircling us with fragile emotions that run deep, making the rising sadness within feel utterly sublime.