Perfume Genius Journeys Far Beyond Expectation with Ugly Season
Mike Hadreas and Alan Wyffels continue their hot streak with producer Blake Mills on an album that rewards patience

As critical fans of music, we tend to approach reviews of established artists with an unjust amount of expectation. How does their new material stack up to their most beloved projects? When can we let a piece of art stand on two legs without the artist offering an explanation? These are the questions that arise when we view and dissect music that artists have laid their hearts on the line to create. In a slightly awkward exchange between Win Butler of the Arcade Fire and guru producer Rick Rubin on Rubin’s podcast Broken Record, a slightly agitated Butler asked Rubin what the bearded musical sage would like a new Arcade Fire record to sound like if he had his druthers. Game to give his honest opinion, Rubin refused to shrink from Butler’s prompt and give him the “just do your Arcade Fire thing, Win” response, and instead offered the cold, hard truth. “I care less about the trappings of it and more about [it] being really good at whatever it is that it is. I care less about what it is and more about how good of a version of whatever the thing that you decided to be is,” Rubin said in a very unsubtle, matter-of-fact way. And there it is. Intention and execution: That’s all that needs to be considered.
After two marquee-lighting records that could be viewed as the “arrival” moments for Perfume Genius, Mike Hadreas and his long-time collaborator and partner Alan Wyffels were ready to take the project back into the black-box theater to stretch the limits of the form on their new record, Ugly Season. The last Perfume Genius record, Set My Heart on Fire Immediately, was indie rock’s cinematic event of 2020. The album included production and guitar from bonafide wizard Blake Mills, as well as appearances from Pino Palladino on bass and the legendary Jim Keltner on drums. It was clear that Hadreas and Wyffels enlisted an ensemble of studio killers to bring their texturally rich vision of romantic longing to Terrence Malick-level epic proportions. The album’s single “On The Floor” even featured the glassy harmonies of Phoebe Bridgers. No expense was spared when the goal was in view.
In the two years since, the plan had been to retreat away from the romantic grandeur of that album with a collaboration between Hadreas and well-known choreographer Kate Wallich. Commissioned by the Seattle Theatre Group and Mass MoCA, the dance performance titled The Sun Still Burns Here would star Hadreas—along with Wallich’s company of dancers, The YC—and contain 10 songs that he, Wyffels and Mills had written to accompany it. The show went on, with performances booked in various cities across the country in 2019, before the pandemic forced them to ease back. Now, the only representation of those performances is tucked away in a YouTube trailer. But the music the three created didn’t die there. It will live on in two different mediums: a short film by acclaimed animator Jacolby Sattlewhite and as this standalone album (the writer waves to a presentation board with the album art prominently displayed) Ugly Season. So how does the music fare without the movements it was intended to soundtrack? Furthermore, is it fair to critique the music on this album without experiencing the artist’s full intention?
Luckily for us, the music that Perfume Genius has created along with Mills on Ugly Season is as methodically paced and layered as you would hope for with a project of this scope. The ebbs and flows of a classical piece or the symphonic accompaniment to a ballet have always remained a template for pop music at its most sweeping and amorous. With Ugly Season, Hadreas and co. slowly draw you in with a sense of sonic mastery that rewards patience and undivided attention. Things start off slow here as the album percolates with the brooding strings and accordion of opener “Just a Room.” In a bit of prophetic narration, Hadreas explains what we are in for in the album’s first movement: “No pattern / No bloom / Where I’m taking you / Flat and static / Just a room, “ he declares, knowing full well that things will be much different in the daring and shapeshifting album that is about to unfold. The album remains in lurking in the bushes mode as it patiently builds at a simmer. Hadreas abandons the hushed whisper of the opening track to showcase his piercing falsetto on the two following tracks, “Herem” and “Teeth”—the latter pleads to various characters in Greek mythology to help Hadreas’ narrator retreat from reality into the tranquil oblivion of a dream world without obligation. “Floros, Frixos, find me,” Hadreas coos over glacial strings and plucked harp, “Lay your palm upon my heart, unmake my name.”