Of course, to transmute a body and a voice into a radiant grace is a kind of tender violence and it showed. While absolutely confident of self, as perhaps one singing arias unobserved in an abandoned opera house might be, Hadreas felt tentative of connecting with the audience. It is a shame the nearly sold-out crowd didn’t seem up to excitement or even much vulnerability, and left Perfume Genius to blaze in solitude before them.
You could not blame the opener, Meg Duffy’s Hand Habits for the tepid crowd. As a scruffy seated four-piece, one might have assumed we were in for a kind of twee non-committed lofi act so prevalent from out of aimless quarantine years. The phalanx of guitars should have disabused one of that presumption. Duffy is, after all, a minor guitar god who has recorded with Kevin Morby, War on Drugs and Weyes Blood. The band even stood up at one point. Hand Habits led us through a tight set that slowly filled the hall with smokey thoughtful lyrics with bite matched by subtle guitar licks suggesting Springsteen by way of Yo La Tengo pop, and closing out the set with twang and guilt of Lucinda Williams’ fixing makeup in the cracked mirror of a bar bathroom.
Perfume Genius came out to a stage with his five-piece arched widely behind him like a Greek chorus, there to embellish and witness the main drama. In a blue double-breasted suit and brown Chelsea boots, and seemingly alone on stage, Hadreas seemed at first to inhabit a lounge act, full of slink and sparkle, all an act regardless. With the physical grace of a dancer, and flawless angelic voice, Hadreas at first gave the impression of doing warm-ups — performing to mark rather than to inhabit the song. Here is where the tentative showed, a bashful soul with a new lover.
Starting with “Your Body Changes Everything” and moving through a career retrospect of twenty songs, Hadreas was immaculate, and the touring band, which included a return to the stage by Meg Duffy, was flawless, at times building to Arcade Fire level bombast, and backing off to Stevie Wonder R&B vibes of “On The Floor”.
Hadreas did warm physically and doffed his boxy coat along with any hesitation. He climbed and enloved a chair set center stage bound in rough rope, and gathered himself in cloudy yards of white taffeta. “I am of the Body,” he confessed. Indeed. Ultimately, there seemed no separation between his voice and body, and even the content of the songs. But throughout it gave the impression of being very alone as a performer. A body alone.
At the LA show, they were joined by electro-chamber pop chanteuse Julia Holter. I can imagine Hadreas voice strengthened by counterpoint or embellished by a vocal chorus. In either case, relieved of the heavy lifting and allowed to sink and soar with warmer drama. Likewise, Perfume Genius closed with their breakthrough hit “Queen” from 2014’s Too Bright. Did the bashful audience roar for the hit? Depressingly they did not. And the body performed. It would have perhaps bolstered a well-worn hit with a hot guitar solo.
For one-night Perfume Genius did sway and glow and radiate and sparkle and sing immaculate. I just wanted him to not be so alone.
