In the months between the announcement of Perfume Genius’ Too Bright and the record’s release date, one question consumed my mind: If Mike Hadreas can convey total desolation with nothing more than a piano and a set of pipes, what’s going to happen when he employs a full range of instruments?
After hearing lead single “Queen,” the answers I formulated ranged from “people’s faces are going to melt off” to “people are going to die in their beds.” After hearing Too Bright in its entirety, however, I can assure you that (hopefully) none of these things are going to happen.
Because though both of Too Bright’s early singles (the aforementioned “Queen” and the startling “Grid”) showcase a side of Hadreas we’ve never heard before, they’re not exactly a great representation of the album as a whole.
Musically, Too Bright is another tried-and-true Perfume Genius record: each song is vocally arresting, consists of simple chord progressions, and cuts out before the four-minute mark. But stylistically, this album is a mess. In addition to Too Bright’s five piano-only ballads, Hadreas tries his hand at badassery (“My Body”), Graceland-ery (“Fool”) and Fever Ray-ery (“Longpig,” “I’m a Mother”).
Badassery is where Hadreas succeeds; his hell-bent lyrics paired with screeching, ominous synth tones are a spectacle to behold, as life-affirming as they are blood curdling. Yet when Hadreas reverts back to his bread-and-butter ballads, or moves out of left field and starts using synth loops and drones, his intent—his impact—becomes lost.
Whereas Hadreas’ last record felt like a defining, cohesive statement, Too Bright sounds more like an artist fucking around with any synth tone that’ll stick. And while nearly every individual track on Too Bright is mesmerizing or fulfilling in some way, as a whole, this effort falls frustratingly short.
Too Bright