In Ms. Key's 8th grade literature class, Bill Jones defined melancholy as "a sweet sort of sadness." We should have had him define nostalgia, oblivion, euphoria, enlightenment, and redemption as well. He was a master of the language and we wasted our chances, concentrating instead on stewardship of the green thing, a thin strip of acetate we took turns taking home. (Don't ask).
I mention such grand ideas, including the green thing, because when I listen to Perfume Genius, a/k/a Mike Hadreas, I feel melancholy, nostalgia, and the rest. It's all there, (ok, maybe not redemption, maybe depression instead, or perhaps insanity, definitely pain) and I adore every moment. I want my music to make me feel vacant and fulfilled all at the same time. This is the stuff for it, even with its very lo-fi'ness, though not, blissfully, of the irritating kind. Indeed, the second tier sound is unquestionably part of the art in this case, adding to the experience masterfully. But I'm just a consumer, so what do I know? A consumer of melancholy, nostalgia, euphoria, and oblivion (ok, maybe not oblivion), at home with my music.
Pitchfork: Album Reviews: Perfume Genius: Learning 8.2/10.0
New band of the day – No 699: Perfume Genius | Music | guardian.co.uk
Perfume Genius - Learning / Releases / Releases // Drowned In Sound
Perfume Genius - Learning | The Line Of Best Fit
Pictured is a detail from the British Library, London. It is unrelated to the album.
