If you are new to Perfume Genius, their seventh album Glory is not a bad place to get to know the band. It offers a great deal of continuity—Mike Hadreas’ high tenor and beautiful melodies, occupation of a niche somewhere between philharmonic bangers and soft lullabies, a creeping sense of constantly stumbling through languor and anxiety—while introducing a small number of new elements.
Among the new elements is the importance of bass guitar and trebly percussion, bringing a jazz influence that reminds one of Joni Mitchell’s jazz-inflected trio of albums from the late ’70s and early ’80s. There’s almost more going on in the subterranean background of every song than at surface level: found sounds, electronic glitches, choral voices that are sometimes hard to tell are even there. Hadreas working, in those choral voices, at the very bottom of his range gives the songs a root and foundation that holds together the atonality that lightly pervades most tracks.
Most of all, this is the first Perfume Genius album that represents a whole-band process. Prior to this, Hadreas seemed largely a solo artist who had a band to realize his aims. According to Hadreas, he wanted this album to be a true group effort, and it shows, with stronger appearances of acoustic pianos, acoustic guitars, and a layering of sound and intention that has escaped the band in the past. While Perfume Genius fans seemed to have been okay with the “Mike is Perfume Genius” trope in the past—I was one of them—this release should both satisfy past fans and bring in new ones.
The album starts with two songs that seem almost like red herrings, or misdirects, for the release as a whole—misdirects even more so for the spectacular videos distributed before the album release. Both (“It’s a Mirror,” “No Front Teeth”) are familiar soft-loud-soft pulsations, orchestral, lush, and seething with something between unknown passions, violence, and resignation. Both songs make me feel like I’m on a modest-sized boat, in really rough seas (note the buried atonality of both), and because I’m not a sailor, I need to trust the crew. Do watch the videos; they give you a sense of the cinematic mind of the band, the way they imagine the intent of the songs. But the rest of the album is much more contemplative, with lyrics tending toward symbolist poetry and a through-line of life after rebirth. On the latter, from “No Front Teeth:” “Better day” “It’s weird” “It’s fine” “Let them touch me”. To note: “No Front Teeth” includes a first for Perfume Genius, a guest to sing with Hadreas, New Zealand’s Aldous Harding, and the conjunction of their voices captivates.
With the next song, “Clean Heart,” we’re now introduced to the real album. A drum beat initiates, amid background echo noise, edgy and anxious. A Mingus-like bass enters, and fairy chimes, removing anxiety. Later, an electric guitar riff soars in, changing the entire flow of the song. Drums enter more powerfully for the last movement, while a chorus of voices anchor in the background. “Me & Angel” next opens with an acoustic piano, not a big arrow in Perfume Genius’ historical quiver. It could have been written by Elton John. This may be the most memorable melody on the album, one of those songs that you find yourself humming days after, and you don’t know where it has come from. If your jam is pretty, singer-songwriter stuff, this will satisfy, but beware of the background underpinnings which lift the song up to a different level.
“Left for Tomorrow” then may be the moment, for a casual listener, when the Mingus-Mitchell undertow to this album surfaces in an obvious manner. “Full On” introduces us to an autoharp (at least I think it is), which fits in with the flow of the last few songs immaculately. It also lets you simply repose in Hadreas’ voice. Oh wait! Another big chorus of voices again, with Hadreas contrasting his high and low tenors. “Capezio” features Hadreas’ voice at its highest range, the best on the album. Or, if your thing isn’t high tenor male voices, tbh, you might pack this whole album in at this point (don’t! more to come!). The song doubles down on the jazz influence, ending in a wild and weird improv of sounds that disrupts the song into a chaos of regeneration.
There’s more to come: after an admittedly throw-away song (“Dion”), the band subtly recalls the two red herrings at the start of the album with “In a Row.” The loud part of this is truly operatic, with so much going on behind the frontispiece that it likely will become my ongoing favorite song of the release—as well as uncomprehendingly invoking Elton John once again. It leads us into “Hanging Out”, where the many filaments of DNA that give birth to the album are joined to reaffirm the musical theses of this product. “Glory,” the final song of the album, is a final statement of life after rebirth. We float into silence, a silence replete with hope.
I was a gigantic Perfume Genius fan after the release of their first album, even weaseled my way to a backstage pass for their first US tour, and soaked in the after-party in a tiny room behind the stage in a 500-person venue in San Francisco. Then, tbh, I wasn’t thrilled with albums two through six. I decided that this was just another band that I would always say hadn’t lived up to its potential. Album seven proved me wrong; good for them.
For newcomers to Perfume Genius, my guess is that this will land as a “B”; I get that. For long-time listeners, this is a solid “A” and perhaps their most fully realized full-length to date.
