Perfume Genius delivered a contrasting mix of delicate piano ballads and reckless rock’n’roll romps to Sydney.
“No family is safe/When I sashay.”
Oxford Art Factory was graced with the presence of two unforgettable characters on Wednesday night.
Kiwi folk singer Aldous Harding brought self-deprecation to new levels, but her music was comparatively serious: emotive and tenderly crafted songs, just her and a guitar, crooning with a voice that at times sounded uncannily like a flute.
“This is a love song,” she announced before Hunter. “I don’t write many love songs. I’m going to die alone.” The room laughed. “You laugh, but I’m going to die alone.” The room tittered again, nervously. She blew everyone away, however, with her final performance, an a cappella rendition of Roy Orbison’s Crying that left this writer from being in stitches to close to tears.
When Perfume Genius took the stage, he took the whole room with it. Seattle’s Mike Hadrea had the crowd lost in his every move, could have them in raptures with just a look (“bitch face”, in his own words).
Touring his latest record, 2014’s Too Bright which has brought him into the spotlight for many, he delivered a contrasting mix of delicate piano ballads and reckless rock’n’roll romps tasting nostalgically of the ‘80s and ‘90s.
He threw shade earlier this year at Sam Smith, who said gay people should act more “normal” in order to be accepted. “He can keep all that,” Hadrea has said. And thank god Perfume Genius doesn’t hold back a huge personality, exuding both confidence and vulnerability whether screaming all over the hot, disharmonious mess of Grid or uttering lyrics like “I wear my body like a rotted peach/You can have it if you can handle the stink” on the visceral My Body.
Many Genius songs are sprinkled with rhythm perfect for the dancefloor, but unfortunately the beats from Alan Wyffels’ drum machine were largely drowned out, something that seemed to bother Hadrea throughout the set but was never remedied. The closest thing to a climax was Fool, from his latest record, a pulsing synth dream pierced by an ecstatic high note that sent the crowd into raptures, while the anthemic Queen had everyone moving.
The set ended tenderly with duets with both Wyffel and guitarist Hervé Bécart before Hadrea was alone for a three-song encore, including 2012’s Put Your Back N 2 It, showing the softer side to a man of flamboyant contradictions.