Perfume Genius's Tacoma Sadcore

by Matt Siegel

I once drove Bea Arthur to a radio interview in my Honda Civic, and reveled in the fact that I had her (good) ear for forty-five minutes. She didn’t appreciate it when I asked if she had been part of vaudeville; apparently my years were way off.

I opted out of personally driving the celebrity I was interviewing this time, a musician who some would argue is just as gender-confounding as Ms. Arthur. I selected an UberBlack (that’s their “high-end sedan”) to drive me and Mike Hadreas AKA Perfume Genius, to the Chateau Marmont, the most cliché celebrity interview spot in Los Angeles. Something about placing an unassuming homegrown artist like Hadreas in that absurd environment appealed to me. It didn’t fit Hadreas, but it might one day. Last week, he made his first appearance on Letterman, performing his hit single “Queen,” which Slate named the gay anthem of the year. (I also had him make a Grindr profile, above.)

Hadreas asked if we would see Lana Del Rey at the Chateau; she had just played at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery two nights earlier. I mentioned that Del Rey’s music has been referred to as “Hollywood Sadcore,” which one MTV journalist described as “what you get when you cross a woman who looks like a ’60s Playboy bunny with a song that sounds a little bit like Chris Isaak’s ‘Wicked Games’ sung through a PJ Harvey/Lykke Li filter…” How might one describe Hadreas? Perhaps what you get when cross a man who looks like a boy who dresses like a female executive with songs that sound like longing, despair, and, most recently, power. That’s Perfume Genius’s Tacoma Sadcore.

You live in Washington State but you chose to record Too Bright in Bristol, England. You also love British musicians like Kate Bush and PJ Harvey. What is it about Britain?

I don’t know. I haven’t been there long enough to know if there’s some specific vibe. I like it over there because…my music does better over there, so that’s a nice ego boost.

Why do you think that is?

I’m not certain. It could be very simple — just like I got better press or something very non-magical like that. In the states, people go to shows as like a social thing still, or just to drink, and then there’s music next to them; they’ll even do that at my show. I think there are probably better shows to for that than me, like, playing two chords and gently cooing; it’s not very conducive to a casual hang.

The audiences [in Britain] are much more enthusiastic. They’re not as self-conscious about looking interested or seeming interested. In the states, people are still sort of…it’s cool to have a snarky element to everything across the board. So the front row will be like really excited people, and nobody is clapping in the back. I play festivals in Europe, I play bigger venues; I haven’t played a single music festival in the states. But this new album — since it’s louder — people really like louder music, and so now I’m going to play American festivals.

I don’t think it’s as simple as loud/quiet. Before, the subject matter would be strange or twisted but the music underneath is very sweet and pleasant, and American doesn’t seem to like that. I guess it’s not a nice thing to say about all of America, but, whatever, I’ll say it. In America, if it’s a happy movie, it’s just like a happy movie — it’s not multi-tiered at all, and I feel like there are more tiers to things in other countries. Like a movie doesn’t have to tie everything up at the end, or it can have happy moments and sad moments, and people aren’t like, “That was confusing! I don’t know what to do! I’m hungry!” I know it sounds like I’m saying I’m going over America’s head but that’s not what I mean.

What do you see when you look out at the audience?

I don’t really look out that much, just because I get anxious and I want the least amount of things that make me self-conscious. At a good show, people are usually just very sweet. They just smile and are supportive. And I like seeing gamers in dresses…it’s just very sweet to me. You see a lot of couples. This tour’s a lot different, though. People know what to do. They know when the song’s over and to clap and stuff. Before, when I was playing a string of really quiet songs, people would be like, “Should we clap?”

Do you think your audiences would be better off sitting while watching you perform?

Before, yeah. You know, we used to play a lot of churches and stuff, but now we play dive bars and we’re playing some of this louder music and it’s kind of fun. Even when people are loud and drunk and being obnoxious, a lot of the new songs — it kind of helps in a way — like I kind of sing at them and wave my finger at them.

Omigod, I have to ask you what you think of EMA (musician Erika M. Anderson, who is also on the Matador Records label).

I love her. I don’t listen to much music right now but I listen to her. She knows what she’s talking about. And she’s, like, really impassioned. I think that’s really fucking ballsy.

When I saw her perform she had to leave the stage to cry. I love that. That’s the kind of shit I like to witness.

Me too! That’s what I try to do. Fucking go for it and channel something. Like when you lose yourself for a second.

I mean she got on her knees!

Yeah! That’s hard to do, like, it takes a lot of fucking guts to go for it like that because it takes a certain amount of drama, which seems phony at first to open yourself up to something, you know what I mean? It takes a certain amount of ego and drama with yourself to think that you could get it! And I think people are scared…

Well, you could look like a fool.

Yeah, you could look ridiculous. That’s what’s so badass when people go for it anyways. That’s what I try to do. I was watching some videos of me screaming, and I’m just like fuckin’ — it’s not a cute scream, it’s not pretty — but I’m kinda proud of it ’cause I just go fuckin’ nuts. I’m just screaming, and that’s what I wanted to do.

What do you feel when you’re screaming?

It just feels very wild. That kind of screaming is when it’s very easy for me to get lost ’cause I can’t hear anything else while I’m doing it, and it’s gone full circle. It’s like there’s no way that this looks or sounds hot or, like, cool. I just immediately kind of lose it. But it’s fun. I just try to basically have moments like the ones that I look for in every show that I go to. There’s different ways to do it. You know sometimes people sing soul music with their hand up, and you can tell — their eyes roll back in their head for a second. And there’s EMA where there’s a lot more body, a lot more guts in it. It’s spiritual in a different way. That’s like my favorite thing, and that’s why I changed a lot of what I was writing, too, because I wanted that and the more feverish, less kind of patient way that I had been doing it — something with more vibrations and stuff in it.

You have a song on the new album called “Grid.” And the word comes up in another song on that album.

I’m sort of obsessed with “grid” as like a writing word. A lot of times I have really circular behaviors, like things I do over and over even though they’re not working, and I don’t change them. Sometimes I can see what I’m doing; I can see the grid I’m on. I can see how much bigger it is than the little part I’m circling, so I kind of think of the grid as like what is really happening.

The circular behavior, is that that kind of Alcoholics Anonymous definition of insanity? Repeating the same patterns and expecting different results?

You know, I’ve cut out drinking and drugs but I still do a lot of food…and it’s not just vices like that, either. It’s also just, like, thinking. I get in my own way a lot. I feel a lot more confident than I…am. (laughs) Like inside I have this version of myself that I think is really me that I rarely ever match up to. In music, I do a lot more. Sometimes on stage, too.

A lot of journalists have been focused on your despair and longing and now the anger —

Yeah, the anger. “You’re so angry. Where did that come from? When did that start for you?”

Right? “What happened in your life? Oh you’re gay.”

*Both laugh*

Then it’s like, “Why are you so sad and gay?” It’s usually a two-pronged thing.

Is it possible for humor to translate into music like yours? Is there even a place for it?

I think so. To me, when something’s really funny there’s like a wildness to it, and it’s very close to the wildness of something potentially tragic or gross. It’s all very close to each other when you have that extreme level of feeling. I think there’s a sense of humor to a lot of the songs on the album. Like, in My Body, I essentially say that I’m a tramp-stamp at the end of it (laughs).

.~’* just a little reminder to never, ever fuck with me *’~.

— Perfume Genius (@perfumegenius) October 6, 2014

This tweet from the other day. Who upset you? What happened?

Well, I’m not sure exactly…a lot of times…people fuck with me, and I’m telling them “don’t.”

I see that! Do people fuck with you?
Yeah. On the street, ya know, people hollerin’ at me, and I just don’t wanna be bothered with it. I’m just trying to walk. I’m just trying to sit and have a cigarette, and people are trying to mess with me. I don’t feel like it.

I feel you on that. Even eyes, being gawked at.

Yeah, it’s tiny little things that will do it. The reason why it’s so frustrating to me is because I cannot imagine being on the other side. I cannot imagine being in a spot where I felt like I could say something rude to somebody just walking across the street. Or, like, yelling at someone. It pisses me off that they even have the audacity to even say something out loud. I mean, everybody thinks shitty thoughts; it’s just weird to say it. It pisses me off. I’m not gonna not paint my nails, and I’m not gonna not wear crazy fucking shit. I can do whatever the fuck I want, you know what I mean?

So, we moved to Tacoma, which is not a city anymore. I like having my nails painted; I think it looks pretty; I like the way it looks. But they’re, like, the hardest thing to hide if I was gonna, like, dress down to go to Subway, you know what I mean? So even if I’m, like, wearing a hoodie at Subway, I still have to sign everything (laughs). And it’s sad to me. After the last tour I took my nails off and it was kind of relieving walking around my neighborhood. I felt like a spy —

More anonymous?

Yeah, but it’s sort of frustrating to me, and at the same time it’s sad.

What do you think about masc/femme among gay men?

I think it’s ridiculous. Usually, like, anyone that would adopt, like, “masc,” period, to describe them — it’s a very phony, stereotypical masculinity. It’s essentially just them except with, like, a backwards hat, right? And compression socks or something?

Compression socks? Aren’t those what old people wear on airplanes?

*Both laugh*

Well, I’m thinking of socks that are, like, workout socks. And, like, tennis shoes. Isn’t that what you do? Or, like, basketball shorts. You dress like the people who beat you up in high school, right? That’s okay. I mean, as much as I rag on that, it’s kinda hot. Like, that’s what’s embarrassing is I still think, like, strong, straight-acting guys are hot, unfortunately…some of them.

I know. I feel like I’m betraying myself —

Yeah, by thinking that’s hot?

Yes!

It feels like a secret! I really don’t like that. I wish I didn’t…but that’s how it got shaped in me, you know what I mean? I can try to think about it and heal it and stuff, but that’s just…that’s just what I learned is hot very young. It’s hard to shake that.

I do feel guilty about it. Then I think to myself, “If I only like butch guys — ”

“…where do I fit in that?”

Right! Exactly!

I don’t ever necessarily feel masculine or feminine. I just feel…I don’t know. Like when I’m wearing women’s clothes, it’s not like I’m dressing like a lady, a woman; it’s just like I’m doing whatever I want. To be honest, it’s still really confusing to me when I think about it. If I was at the height of power, I think I’d like to be a powerful woman; I wouldn’t want to be a powerful man. Do you know what I mean? Like, I feel fucking badass when I’m walking around and I feel like a fucking female CEO, you know what I mean?

Hell yes I do. Do you think of, like, Sigourney Weaver in Working Girl?

Sure. And I think of Ripley, too. Like alien-boss. Empty-ship boss. Boss-of-the-empty-ship. I think my feminine qualities are badass and strong and I really value them — or the ones people would call feminine, I suppose.

It is so hard to reprocess male femininity as qualities and not hindrances.

Well, I’ve felt like that forever. I’m trying to flip it. Flip it completely. Almost like — threatening people with it. Make it into something to be scared of. When I began wearing whatever I wanted, I went nuts. I was wearing tons of costume jewelry. Basically, it was like advanced style for like two years, you know what I mean? When I used to go out, people were like, “Why is nobody hitting on me?” but the secret to getting laid is to dress like someone you would want to have sex with, and when I’m wearing all this costume jewelry, I wish that was someone that I would find sexually attractive.

Sigh.

I’m almost embarrassed to be that honest, but it sucks, and I’m so pissed off, because intellectually that maddens me.

Does it mean that we think we’re unattractive?

Well, of course I think I’m unattractive. Even beyond the feminine/masculine, I’ve never been able to just, like, hook somebody, I always have to charm them or, like, trick them into liking me. You know what I mean? I can’t just like show them my —

Face.

Face, and be like, “Hey.” I’ve never really felt like that; I’ve felt like I need to be jokey or charm them.

Like you physically is not enough.

Uh huh. I feel like if I took really good care of myself and ate really well, and, like, quit smoking, I think I would feel better about myself…and I would think I’m more attractive, even if I wasn’t. Just ’cause I would be doing all I could. I think that’s part of the reason I don’t feel attractive, though, because I don’t treat myself well inside. I don’t think nicely of myself a lot of the time.

I saw a quotation where you said something about Liz Phair’s influence on you at age twelve, that she would, like, go there, talking about sucking dick.

Exactly. Specific. (laughs) What happened was, like, I was listening to like Ace of Base and Janet and stuff, and then, I think I shoplifted a Spin Magazine from the grocery store, and they were talking about her stage fright and some of her subject-matter and stuff, and so I bought Whip-Smart (Phair’s 1994 album) with my allowance and that completely changed the way I listened to music forever. I mean, I still like Ace of Base a lot, but I didn’t know music could be like that. It kind of really changed me, that album, and it was right when I was sort of allowing myself to stop pushing the fact that that I’m gay back, you know what I mean? Admitting to myself. Stop trying to run from it. But I did come out to my mother when I was fifteen, and I just started ordering Out and The Advocate to the house and leaving them out for my dad to see — didn’t really officially ever come out to him. I mean they all knew. Nobody was surprised when I told them. Of course I came out as bisexual.

Of course.

It didn’t change anything with any of my close friends or my brother, even. It felt like a big deal to me.

How long have you been with your boyfriend Alan?

Five years about. I met him shortly before I was about to do my first show ever. And he made music and we met because we were both sober, and it was right when I had first started getting sober for real. So if I was gonna go on tour and play shows I thought it’d be nice to have someone with me who doesn’t party, so I asked him to play music with me.

Did you ever do the 12-step thing?
That’s how we met. It was very helpful. I’m sure it’d still be helpful now if I went but I haven’t gone in a few years, but in the beginning I was really hitting it, going to coffee with all kinds of people. It was cool. It was very healing. I went to gay meetings. It was a lot of older gay men who were very kind to each other and talking very openly and were supportive, and I have never really seen that.

What had you seen?

Skeeziness.

Sexually?
Yeah, but that probably had a lot to do with the drinking and going out and doing drugs and going to weird places and stuff. I guess I hadn’t seen contented, happy, older gay men who were talking openly about things that happened and were still going on that were not great but were sweet to each other, and that was really powerful for me. And beyond that when I went to non-gay meetings, being able to relate to people who were really different from me. I went to rehab north of Seattle, a lot of military guys, and they were sweet and I became friends with them and I’d hear them talking about feelings that I had. The last time I used I was in a hotel room and I had this feeling, if I smoke anymore or do any more I’m gonna die, and I had that thought in my head, and I just did it anyway, you know what I mean? That’s essentially what it was in the end: a really long drawn-out suicide attempt. I just did not care anymore.

So you wanted to live?

Or I guess I wanted to not die.

When you have to explain what your music is like to an elderly relative, for instance, what do you say?

I’m not very good at it; I usually say sad. Sad, like, singer/songwriter — I feel like they’ll know what that is. Weird. I say weird a lot.

When you think of singer/songwriter, whom do you think of?

James Taylor is the first person I think of. (laughs)

Do you feel any connection or relation to him?

No. (laughs) Well, my mom loved him, and I heard him a lot. He’s a little too — I don’t know much about his backstory — he sounds very nice, and I don’t feel like I’m as nice as him.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.