Photo: Angel Ceballos
When Seattle’s Mike Hadreas emerged in 2010 as Perfume Genius, he immediately caught the music world’s attention. His debut album, Learning, was composed around confessional writings that addressed his Alcoholic Anonymous meetings and the sudden mental clarity he found after years of drug abuse and emotional turmoil. With the release of follow-up LP Put Your Back N 2 It, Hadreas formalized his reputation for cathartic piano ballads, increasing his rabid fanbase and critical advocates, to whom he’s become a series of individual, archetypal characters: a delicate soul, a fragile ex-addict, a vindicated voice for oppressed queer people, or a heavy, humourless songwriter.
While it’s true that he’s been all these things, Hadreas is hardly as one-dimensional as any one of the characterizations allow. In the backroom of tiny Los Angeles bar the Bootleg, over a less-than-appetizing beer called Old Chub, Hadreas paints a complex and layered self-portrait, addressing the latent inspiration in sobriety, the inevitability of pigeonholing, and why Toronto dudes are the best dressers. Oh, and don’t let him forget to feed the vegans on floor three.
You’ve said that your first album was written for yourself. Did you write this new album knowing, in the back of your head, that you’d be performing it for fans? That is to say, listeners with expectations?
Yeah, and that was actually the most helpful way to think about it. At first, I thought about trying to make everyone like it, you know what I mean? Or to try and convince people to like it. But then I figured, it’s for the people who wrote to me, who were nice to me after the first album [laughs].
Did you feel pressure to cater to those fans?
There was pressure, but in a way that I like. I had more people in mind when I wrote it, more who could potentially hear it. I even thought about what kinds of things I wanted to hear when I was younger.
You’ve talked about using silliness to emphasize seriousness. Is the title Put Your Back N 2 It a tongue-in-cheek remark about the difficulties of being in love?
People hate it. People really fucking hate the album title and my band name. The combination has earned some harsh words. It’s kind of awesome, in a way – at least something happened from it.
It incited a reaction.
[Hadreas’ phone vibrates]. Sorry, it’s my game. This game on my phone keeps trying to make me do stuff.
What is it?
Tiny Tower. “My vegan” – what does it say? “The vegan food on floor three is ready to be restocked.”
What’s Tiny Tower?
You have a tower, like a big mall, and you have to keep all the stock up, make sure you hire people, etc., so they can sell everything.
Is Floor Three hipster central?
I don’t know, I just picked “food” as one of the floors I could build! I wouldn’t have picked the vegan food floor.
[Laughs]. Anyway, the title, Put Your Back N 2 It…
Well, that was one of the first songs I wrote for the album. It’s kind of after the fact that things got silly, because I was dead serious about that song when I wrote it. I knew that the title could be taken in a number of different ways, and I knew what I was referencing when I used that line, so I like that it could be taken as silly, or nasty, or dead serious. Sometimes all that stuff comes from the same place.
You’ve expressed annoyance that people always perceive you as frail and vulnerable, because that’s only one side of you. Is there a reason your music typically evokes that side? Is there another side you’re waiting to express?
In a way. When I made the first album, I also did a bunch of drag videos at the same time – this weird… I guess sketch comedy? It wasn’t, to me, like I was going back and forth between extremes, I was just feeling creative and making things. Being funny is the public coping mechanism I’ve used my whole life, and the sadder, darker stuff is private. It’s not cool [to release sad music], but it’s a lot more therapeutic, so when I want to make something, or I’m trying to figure something out, or I feel like I need to step back and look at something to write about it, it’s usually not super funny.
You’ve said that your first album was written during Alcoholics Anonymous. Were you writing songs before that, or was there sudden and overwhelming inspiration at that moment in time?
I had always tried to write songs before that, and I’d written little things on the piano, but never a song with words and a melody. That didn’t happen until… Well, it really did just suddenly happen after I got sober for the first time. I think those are really related, because I had been not sober for a really long time. It was almost like when I started drinking and doing drugs, I stopped. I had nothing written, and I’d just stopped [living]. When I was healthy again, all this energy came back. I had a lot more distance from everything around me, and I had a lot more to say, because I saw all the different sides of things that had happened to me.
I think it’s interesting that sobriety is your muse, when drugs and drink provide inspiration to most people. Do you require mental clarity to write?
I’m sure I could potentially make something while…Lots of people are able to do drugs and make things, I just am never able to. The stuff I want to make isn’t inspired by that. One of my friends got sober recently, and he keeps asking me, “When am I going to start writing music? When is it going to be awesome?” But everyone has different experiences with [AA]. It’s not fun…but it’s real. That’s why it’s inspiring. It’s not like I didn’t have problems when I was doing drugs, but you’re never really feeling the real feelings of things. It’s all bullshit.
Is your music anti-escapist, then?
Yeah, but it’s an escape to me. I feel the smartest about my music. When I think about all my experiences, I feel the most sweet about all those bad things, and the most respectful of them, through my music. There’s a nice part to it; I’m not just reliving shitty experiences.
It provides closure, in a way.
Yeah, I guess so.
You’ve said you try to write songs that “I wish I’d heard when I was younger.” Are there voids in today’s music scene that you’re trying to fill?
I hope so, for sure [laughs]. That’d be helpful to my career if it’s true. I keep ragging on Bon Iver, not because he’s bad, but because I don’t understand what he’s saying. Then I read the lyric booklet, and I still don’t really understand what he’s talking about. It’s still beautiful, and it doesn’t stop me from listening to it, but I like that my music is pretty straightforward. I like that it’s simple – I try to say exactly what I mean.
Are lyrics as important to you as your music is?
I think they’re more important. They’re the part I obsess over the most, even if there are only, like, four. They’re the most important thing, to me.
You’ve asserted that you have no problem with narrow-minded music listeners who won’t listen to you because you’re gay, but what about the opposite? Do you ever feel pressure to write about gayness or gay-specific issues?
Not really. It’s more of a personal thing. I worry whether I’m writing about something because I naturally want to talk about it, or to defy something or someone. I worry more that I’ll hold back because of whatever weird amount of shame is left in me, and how people will react to it. If I do [hold back from writing about gayness], I don’t think I would mind that pressure, either.
It would only spur you on?
…To write even gayer stuff [laughs]. If there’s any backlash, however tiny, it only makes me want to make gayer, even more porn-starry videos. With more chest hair.
Let’s talk about Youtube’s censorship of your video for “Hood.” You don’t censor yourself, so was it frustrating to be censored? How did you react to that?
I still don’t really get it. It’s not that I’m not angry about it, but I think gay people are used to people being like “Oh, no” to things that they do. It’s just very high school-seeming to me, even though it’s on a bigger scale. I didn’t get it, but at the same time, I wasn’t surprised.
When female musicians make a buzz-worthy album, it seems critics only compare her music to other females – “She sounds like Bjork!”
…Other women who are “good at their instruments.”
Exactly. And I often see your music compared to other gay or sexually marginalized performers. To me, there’s more Sufjan Stevens in your music than, say, Antony and the Johnsons…
...Well, but who knows? That could be lumped in the same category.
Could you explain?
He’s just one of those singers who, because he whispers, and has a high voice, everyone thinks is gay. Not that it matters, though… What would I do with that information? It’s not like it would solve anything in my head.
But do you feel pigeonholed by your sexuality, even in a proclaimed “progressive” indie scene?
In a way, but that’s just kind of what happens. I don’t do it to myself, so it’s not going to change the way I do things. I just think it’s kind of goofy. But I’ve also listened to all those people, and most of the time, I like their music. It is an easy comparison, though.
I know you aren’t afraid of sharing yourself, but is there anything that’s off limits?
There isn’t, really, although sometimes people ask me exactly what drugs I did. I did that for some interview. I compared meth and cocaine, and they tweeted it. That was the only quote that they pulled: “Perfume Genius on crystal meth!” I don’t want to ever censor myself, but maybe I could think about how I prepare my answers, I guess.
We talked already about the importance of lyrics to your songs, and I’ve quoted you here in a previous interview: “I just don’t see the point of creating something that doesn’t have a message.” As someone who feels lucky to be where you are now, do you feel responsible to others like you who have suffered?
I think so. It makes me feel purposeful, and I haven’t ever really felt like that before I started doing this. I feel like I’m good at it, too.
The community that embraces you really embraces you. Do you think that’s because of the lyrical connection?
Oh, yeah! I hope so. I’ve gotten some pretty deep-ass letters, so…
You’re kicking off a big tour this week. How are you feeling about that? I know you used to feel pretty nervous.
I like touring, because it gives me a definite schedule, stuff to do, specific things to be nervous about every day, so that I’m not just generally anxious. I still get really nervous.
Do you get less nervous as the show goes on?
Yeah, and that’s what happened last night [the first date of the current tour]. I was kind of shaky at the beginning, and I could tell I wasn’t singing how I like to sing, and my throat wasn’t clicking the way I like it to click. Then halfway through, everything worked. I try to think about performing in this really hippy and maybe bullshit way where I think, “Then the audience feels like they’re going through some sort of experience with me! Where it starts [nervously] and then gets more confident!” But that’s just a way to make me feel better about it. I wouldn’t mind, right when I sit down on the bench, to just hit it. So that’s what I’m trying to do all the time now.
You’ll be in Toronto and Montreal soon. Have you had much contact with Canada?
Well, we’ve been to Toronto. I really like Toronto. We were there a couple of days, and I really liked the clothes. People are really good at wearing clothes in Toronto. The dudes…There are lots of cool ladies walking around in cities, but very rarely is there a big group of dudes where everybody’s doing oversized black clothing, where they look like they’re wearing ten blankets at a time, walking down the street. That was pretty awesome.
Perfume Genius’ new album, Put Your Back N 2 It, is out on Matador Records now. He’s playing the Drake Hotel on April 8.
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Stephen Carlick is a music writer in Los Angeles. Follow him on Twitter at @stephencarlick.
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