photos by Colin Kerrigan
"I hope you brought tissues," at least five different people said to me when I told them I was on my way to see Perfume Genius at St. David's Sanctuary last night. Which, honestly, sounded like the exact kind of show we all needed: After Wednesday night's fatal accident, everyone at SXSW on Thursday seemed in search of some kind of catharsis—whether it be a haunting, piano-driven cry-fest in an echoey chapel, or a sweaty, pummeling, and life-affirmingly awesome show from Fucked Up (who I got to see play at Pitchfork's day party at the French Legation museum).
One thing I love about seeing Perfume Genius live is the tension between how clean-cut and unassuming Mike Hadreas looks and the sort of darkness and unspeakable secrets he hints at in his songs. "You would never call me baby if you knew me true," goes the refrain of his gorgeous 2012 single "Hood", that line taking on more resonance as we sat (shout-out to sitting #SXSW) within the in the hallowed walls of a church. Accompanied by a drummer and a keyboardist, Hadreas mostly played songs from his stirring 2012 record Put Your Back N 2 It, although he did treat us to a new song that indicated that his next record (out sometime this fall) will be quite a departure. The minimalist and aggressively electronic-driven track was harder, weirder, and darker than anything we've heard from him yet. Will Perfume Genius make his Yeezus in 2014? Let us pray.
One of my favorite current pastimes back in Brooklyn is convincing uninitiated friends to come see local art freaks Ava Luna with me, and seeing their faces light up the exact moment they realize that this band rules. So I count it as a great victory that last they'd only made it about 15 seconds into their jaunty, prismatic opener "Plain Speech" when my friend who'd never seen them before leaned over and said, "This is awesome." On paper, Ava Luna shouldn't work—there are so many different sounds, influences and personalities dueling it out in their songs that they're always on the brink of too much. But somehow it all comes together in their infectiously entertaining live show. To me, the standout moments of last night's midnight set at the swanky Victorian Room at the Driskill Hotel (venue note: if it makes me a socialist to love a bar where champagne and Miller Lite are the same weirdly low price, then come at me, bro) were the no-wave freak-out "Daydream", and the title track off their new album Electric Balloon, throughout which sometime-lead singer Becca Kauffman shrieked, gargled and vamped like a visitor from outer space. I'll have what she's drinking, please.
Speaking of gloriously weird lead singers with thousand-yard stares, my favorite set of the night came from Baltimore synth-poppers Future Islands. "This is not our first time playing 3 shows in a day," leonine frontman Samuel T. Herring told the crowd at Cheer Up Charlie's, beaming, "But this is a very special time playing 3 shows in a day." Over the past few years, Future Islands have been one of those workhorse road bands that show up in your city every few months, and somehow bring it every damn time. So there's something really gratifying about the fact that, after years on the grind, they're finally connecting with a larger audience—thanks in part to the world's least likely indie rock tastemaker, David Letterman. The crowd went apeshit for "Seasons (Waiting On You)", during which—yes, to answer your question—Herring Did the Dance. Herring's stage presence makes you imagine if Jack Nicholson fronted a synth-pop band in the Shining, or, to quote a tweet from writer Sasha Hecht, "an undercover cop who just accidentally did coke for the first time." All of which is to say: This is the kind of band that makes you wish other bands tried harder. Long may they do the dance.