In a stunningly beautiful tall church in Cologne, Perfume Genius stepped out to perform a set matching the beauty of the venue.
Opening with Otherside, it's delicate then crashing juxtaposition, setting the tone for an extraordinary night. The performance from start to finish was breathless from lead singer Mike Hadreas, who swooned, posed and danced across the stage throughout. The rest of the band, all dressed in black, remained still. Backed by Alan Wyffles on keyboards stage right, and a guitarist and drummer stage left and back, the rest of the performance area belonged to Mike.
The performance of Wreath was such a joy. The track builds and builds, an elevating melody. Recently, Perfume Genius asked fans to send video clips of themselves dancing along to the song, and the compilation is the official video. It is a work of beauty.
There were so many moments where the audience could not take their eyes off Hadreas. Mike has such great positional sense. At one point between songs Mike jokes of his moves onstage: "it's likely to be more of a flail". The almost trademarked backwards lean, that adorned the cover of his new album Other Side, the perch on the edge of the stage, the crouch when delivering delicious lyrics: "each and every breath I spend, you are collecting".
Die 4 You was the showstopper of the night. A rendition that had the audience awestruck and on their feet at the end, outstanding in the church setting.
One minor incident was the sudden appearance of a lumbering sound technician on stage, who stepped out not once but twice when a microphone failed. Fortunately, Hadreas had such good grace that it was immediately forgotten. In an odd way, it gave extra zing to the next song.
What felt like almost as soon as it had begun, the encore. This featured a trip down memory lane to older Perfume Genius tracks. There were piano-led solo versions Mr Peterson, Hood and a wondrous cover version of Bright Eyes. Alan joining Mike on piano front of stage to perform Alan was also jaw-dropping.
Rounding out with the footstomper Queen, it was a night never to forget. Mike Hadreas left the stage first, leaving the band playing out and leaving the audience crying out for more.
Saturday 2 December 2017
Sunday 2 July 2017
Something Like Happiness. The Maccabees. Alexandra Palace. Saturday 1st July 2017.
The Maccabees went out in a blaze of glory on Saturday night. At a packed Alexandra Palace, the venue shook to the rafters as the group said farewell and goodbye. On a balmy July evening, this was a roller-coaster of emotions.
Two bands; Idles and the Mystery Jets provided the warm up. In between tracks, Mystery Jets' frontman Blaine Harrison and guitarist William Rees - still wearing a winter jacket - took time to share their affection: "the Maccabees have inspired us so much" announced Blaine. This loving gesture was reciprocated in turn by singer Orlando Weeks during the headline set: "we'd like to thank the Mystery Jets, they've been the band we've always looked up to".
And what a joyous, heart-wrenching, sweaty and euphoric headline set it was. Guitarist Felix White's comments to Beats 1 beforehand summed up the general feeling around the gig: "Just because of the fact that it’s the end, it’s alleviated any of the previous tension that used to be around us and around gigs, because we always used to be trying to move somewhere or get better. These have just been a ‘let’s just celebrate how great we are’".
Celebrating by playing an array of songs from all four of their highly acclaimed albums, the Maccabees were in scintillating form. Delving into songs from the Wall of Arms catalogue, and scooping out tracks like Precious Time and Lego from their debut album Colour It In, this was a dream of a set-list.
This set spiralled at frantic pace from the rip-roaring to the delicate and bittersweet. Contrast the entire crowd bouncing up and down in unison to Can You Give It; to Hugo White's deft and touching vocals on Silence. Orlando did waver at times; stepping back from the microphone choked with emotion following a barnstorming rendition of Latchmere. Unable to speak, he bumped his chest hard with his fists, with stirring rabble-rousing cheers in reply.
There was also a super bass-heavy version of Forever I've Known, which elevated the show into the stratosphere. The celestial Grew Up at Midnight followed; before the perfect singalong finale Something Like Happiness. With the Mystery Jets re-appearing alongside Henry Harrison and the lesser spotted Jack Penate on guest vocals, I'll admit I was completely overwhelmed and I did have something in my eye. And no, it wasn't because of the vast amount of confetti raining down from above.
The encore featured a cameo from Jamie T on a lightning fast Marks to Prove It. There after was First Love, the song which poignantly made me fall in love with the band in the first place. At this point, I didn't want the set to end.
Felix was right; 'let’s just celebrate how great we are’ was the prevailing theme here. A huge "Thank you!" was written on a screen above them. When the band stepped forward to take their final almighty applause, there followed a moving crowd rendition of the chorus of Something Like Happiness. The band stood and watched on, breathless and speechless. And that moment will stay with me forever.
Two bands; Idles and the Mystery Jets provided the warm up. In between tracks, Mystery Jets' frontman Blaine Harrison and guitarist William Rees - still wearing a winter jacket - took time to share their affection: "the Maccabees have inspired us so much" announced Blaine. This loving gesture was reciprocated in turn by singer Orlando Weeks during the headline set: "we'd like to thank the Mystery Jets, they've been the band we've always looked up to".
And what a joyous, heart-wrenching, sweaty and euphoric headline set it was. Guitarist Felix White's comments to Beats 1 beforehand summed up the general feeling around the gig: "Just because of the fact that it’s the end, it’s alleviated any of the previous tension that used to be around us and around gigs, because we always used to be trying to move somewhere or get better. These have just been a ‘let’s just celebrate how great we are’".
Celebrating by playing an array of songs from all four of their highly acclaimed albums, the Maccabees were in scintillating form. Delving into songs from the Wall of Arms catalogue, and scooping out tracks like Precious Time and Lego from their debut album Colour It In, this was a dream of a set-list.
This set spiralled at frantic pace from the rip-roaring to the delicate and bittersweet. Contrast the entire crowd bouncing up and down in unison to Can You Give It; to Hugo White's deft and touching vocals on Silence. Orlando did waver at times; stepping back from the microphone choked with emotion following a barnstorming rendition of Latchmere. Unable to speak, he bumped his chest hard with his fists, with stirring rabble-rousing cheers in reply.
There was also a super bass-heavy version of Forever I've Known, which elevated the show into the stratosphere. The celestial Grew Up at Midnight followed; before the perfect singalong finale Something Like Happiness. With the Mystery Jets re-appearing alongside Henry Harrison and the lesser spotted Jack Penate on guest vocals, I'll admit I was completely overwhelmed and I did have something in my eye. And no, it wasn't because of the vast amount of confetti raining down from above.
The encore featured a cameo from Jamie T on a lightning fast Marks to Prove It. There after was First Love, the song which poignantly made me fall in love with the band in the first place. At this point, I didn't want the set to end.
Felix was right; 'let’s just celebrate how great we are’ was the prevailing theme here. A huge "Thank you!" was written on a screen above them. When the band stepped forward to take their final almighty applause, there followed a moving crowd rendition of the chorus of Something Like Happiness. The band stood and watched on, breathless and speechless. And that moment will stay with me forever.
Monday 13 February 2017
Brushing your teeth
I don't know how I feel right now, in early February 2017.
A thought spilled over me while I was brushing my teeth before bed that I started the year with no parents. The two people who invested so much time, effort and love into me are gone. The two people who I adored, and whose advice I sought daily are no longer present. The two people who made me, and who wanted so much for me to succeed, are now just a series of memories.
I have lost my two biggest supporters. I looked in the mirror, toothbrush in hand, and thought: what on earth do I do now?
The person looking back at me is someone who I haven't seen before. Looking tired, drawn, lethargic. Shoulders sagging and slouched. What were those extra lines on the face? Messy features, unshaven, unkempt hair. A shipwreck of a person. The reflection matched how I felt; utterly dreadful.
Yet, an inner voice keeps telling me that I can do something about my appearance. That inner voice tells me I can get a good haircut and I can have a nice shave. The words inside my head press me to think that I can also do the littlest tasks to make me feel better. I can put fresh sheets on my bed and I can make myself smell nice. I can get out of bed and have a shower and at least begin the day; whatever a "day" is right now. I can set aside time for breakfast, lunch and dinner even though I'm hardly hungry; the inner voice reminds me that the world keeps turning and so to have some routine might be a start in tiptoeing back into the real world.
The rudimentary nature of brushing my teeth twice daily is the core of my routine. I have been able to do that, so therefore I believe I can start to do other things. As wishy-washy as I feel, this is my life right now.
I can do nothing about the reality that Dad died in December from cancer. I can do nothing about the reality that Mum died seven years ago from cancer. Facing up to this reality is not exactly something I want to do right now. It is a horror film that I do not wish to be a part of, but yet regretfully I am the star of the show. I was at the front of the funeral procession on the 28th December, the final scenes of a desperately sad film. Followed by a wake with people telling you how good Dad "was"; putting him in the past. It wasn't quite my idea of Christmas.
Feeling totally confused by what has happened; by focusing on my appearance and focusing on brushing my teeth, then at least I have a purpose. Somewhere in the depths of my psyche, I have an inner voice which is advising me to do this. The comforting thought is that this calming and soothing inner voice is most definitely the voice of my parents.
A thought spilled over me while I was brushing my teeth before bed that I started the year with no parents. The two people who invested so much time, effort and love into me are gone. The two people who I adored, and whose advice I sought daily are no longer present. The two people who made me, and who wanted so much for me to succeed, are now just a series of memories.
I have lost my two biggest supporters. I looked in the mirror, toothbrush in hand, and thought: what on earth do I do now?
The person looking back at me is someone who I haven't seen before. Looking tired, drawn, lethargic. Shoulders sagging and slouched. What were those extra lines on the face? Messy features, unshaven, unkempt hair. A shipwreck of a person. The reflection matched how I felt; utterly dreadful.
Yet, an inner voice keeps telling me that I can do something about my appearance. That inner voice tells me I can get a good haircut and I can have a nice shave. The words inside my head press me to think that I can also do the littlest tasks to make me feel better. I can put fresh sheets on my bed and I can make myself smell nice. I can get out of bed and have a shower and at least begin the day; whatever a "day" is right now. I can set aside time for breakfast, lunch and dinner even though I'm hardly hungry; the inner voice reminds me that the world keeps turning and so to have some routine might be a start in tiptoeing back into the real world.
The rudimentary nature of brushing my teeth twice daily is the core of my routine. I have been able to do that, so therefore I believe I can start to do other things. As wishy-washy as I feel, this is my life right now.
I can do nothing about the reality that Dad died in December from cancer. I can do nothing about the reality that Mum died seven years ago from cancer. Facing up to this reality is not exactly something I want to do right now. It is a horror film that I do not wish to be a part of, but yet regretfully I am the star of the show. I was at the front of the funeral procession on the 28th December, the final scenes of a desperately sad film. Followed by a wake with people telling you how good Dad "was"; putting him in the past. It wasn't quite my idea of Christmas.
Feeling totally confused by what has happened; by focusing on my appearance and focusing on brushing my teeth, then at least I have a purpose. Somewhere in the depths of my psyche, I have an inner voice which is advising me to do this. The comforting thought is that this calming and soothing inner voice is most definitely the voice of my parents.
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