Perfume Genius 'Put Your Back N 2 It' album review (for kevchino.com)

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Described on his record label’s website as ‘…a gorgeous soundtrack for anyone trying to keep it together in everyday life,” Put Your Back N 2 It is the latest release from Perfume Genius, aka Seattle singer-songwriter Mike Hadreas. Hadreas himself states, “Everyone has stuff. Staying healthy can be more depressing and confusing than being fucked up. But I want to make music that’s honest and hopeful.”

It may then come as a shock to some that this album made me want to curl up into a ball and die. It is fairly obvious from this collection of slow, sad but sometimes sweet, macabre sonnets that Hadreas has fought some battles in his life, and it seems he carries the remnants of them heavy on his shoulders. Rest assured, this makes for great creative fodder, and the tracks are truly heartfelt, powerful, and emotionally charged. “Honest” is definitely a word I would use to describe them. “Hopeful” is not.

While tracks such as “Dark Parts” (about Hadreas’s mother) and “Take Me Home” (a self-professed “pop song about hookerism”) have elements of hope about them both lyrically and musically—as well as being slightly more upbeat and uplifting in their musical traits—the bulk of the tracks have a slow and morbid sound with lamenting and reflective overtones. His constant use of brooding piano, ambient background arrangements, and heavyhearted subject matter coupled with his listless, almost whispering vocals, can make the album quite draining on one’s psyche. While I’m sure this is what was intended—to make the listener come to terms with their demons and their shady past and accept them for what they are—I’m not sure that’s what I want to do when I sit down to listen to an album.

Various tracks, such as “17,” “All Waters,” and title track “Put Your Back N 2 It,” touch on the trials and tribulations of being a gay man and give beautiful and raw insight into a life that some of us will never know. “AWOL Marine” and “Floating Spit” touch on how far human beings are willing to go before they hit rock bottom, juxtaposing the subject matter with light and airy piano melodies, synthesizer, and samples. The standout track is definitely “Hood,” a melodic, soulful, fast-tempo ballad of what comes of baring your inner self to someone else.

While this is a truly emotional and honest album from Hadreas, a blatant and no-holds-barred baring of the soul, brought together it can become overbearing and just too much to take in. It’s good that people going through the same life experiences can realize they’re not alone through Perfume Genius’s music, but an album of this bemoaning ilk is not going to make them get up, shake off their demons, and move on with their life. Beautifully crafted, heart-achingly honest, but way too heavy both lyrically and musically.

Mark Lanegan Band 'Blues Funeral' review (for kevchino.com)

Blues Funeral is the latest album to hit the airwaves from the Mark Lanegan Band. His seventh release, and first release of new material in eight years, it would make you think he couldn’t go wrong. But alas, you’d be wrong. Unlike its title suggests, it lacks any semblance of what is generally considered blues, unless the actual death of blues is what he was going for (hence the funeral).

Lanegan’s deep, sultry, smoky vocals are the only thing that holds the album together, along with the one standout track, “The Gravedigger’s Song,” which opens the album with a gritty, heavy bass line, eerie guitars, and spooky synthesizers—a walk of the damned, if you will. After this, the album falls apart like a decomposing corpse. “Riot In My House” and “Quiver Syndrome” are two good basic rock songs, but lack any standout riffs or the edginess we’ve witnessed from the band on albums past. “St. Louis Elegy” features some nice Latin-esque country guitar riffs in the chorus, which would prove handy for a Mexican standoff, and “Deep Black Vanishing Train” is a quieter, moodier piece, with some nice deep vocals and haunting cellos to match. But though the aforementioned are bearable, it seems most on the album are not.

“Gray Goes Black” does nothing of the sort and stays a banal and bland shade of gray. “Ode To Sad Disco” is exactly that—sad, contains elements of disco, and goes for 6.24 minutes too long. And “Tiny Grain of Truth” completely misleads, with any true musical talent being lost in over seven minutes of hippie, trippy, esoteric synthesizer improvisation that makes you wonder if the machine simply got stuck on a loop.

The primary track is exciting and outstanding, which makes the rest all the more disappointing. An avid fan of his past work, it pains me to say it, but I wouldn’t even play this at a funeral.