The scene outside Lincoln Hall was not your typical pre-concert display of huddled fans and busy bouncers. Instead, the streets surrounding the hoary sat cold and bare, silent under the whisper of fallen snow and frozen breath. Icicles crept down the corners of the frosted marquee, glinting alongside letters obscured in snow and salt: “PERFUME GENIUS.”
The real energy– I knew— radiated from within the walls, circling the empty microphone that waited on stage. The capricious backdrop of January’s Chicago was merely fuel for the theatrics that were to ensue with the show. The drama, the gloom, the frost: it was the perfect setting for a Perfume Genius concert.
Michael Hadreas’ music has always had that sort of wintry effect on the ear, sinking one into stillness the same way a hauntingly beautiful Chicago winter might. His 2025 album Glory does an expert job at sculpting a similar cinematic and dark atmosphere. Though it doesn’t pack quite the same punch and verve as his previous work, Hadreas’ lyrics are as reverential as always, exploring themes of anxiety, grief, and disconnect felt by the singer during a pandemic-era depression.
Hadreas, of course, brings an uncanny tangibility to his words with his heartfelt performance and nearly spectral stage presence. While performing his latest tracks at Lincoln Hall, he had no issue sighing the same kind of sincerity into his words than he does in the recorded album.
The venue itself added a complimentary touch to the sentimental experience as well. Only Hadreas, pianist and creative partner Alan Wyffels, and a couple of pianos populated the stage. The duo was backlit in a single blue light that pulsed gently from track to track. The overall set-up was vaporous and moody, but otherwise unembellished —much like the album itself.
Glory is rather minimalistic. This is not to say that there is little texture or depth in the production; the soundscape is just refined enough to let its lyrics really lay themselves bare. While certain tracks like “No Front Teeth” will break into a gritty thrash—guitars and guttural vocals serving hard-pattering percussion—most of the album otherwise lingers, pensively, as a cloud hangs in the sky. It doesn’t need much ornamentation to feel like a well-done album. The most resonant parts of the project come simply from its emotional core and the clear-eyed vulnerability woven into its words.
This was the same case with his live performance, that was absent of any stage decor or choreography. Only Hadreas’ skilled vocal delivery was enough to stand the hairs on the back of your neck. On tracks like “No Front Teeth,” he literalized the lyrics at the beginning, almost hissing the words through gritted teeth into the microphone:
“No front teeth / where they all used to go / broken apart and shinin’.”
When he began singing “In a Row”, Hadreas’ energy was as trepidatious as the pattering of piano notes at the start. He inched close to the mic,
“Locked inside a moving car / flopping in the trunk...”
and the room’s shoulders tensed. Hadreas has this way of painfully pulling out the end of his words and straining his voice just right to achieve a chilling effect. It is this kind of vocal control that draws the room into the paranoia of the track.
By the end of the concert, I almost didn’t want to think about opening the back doors to leave. Even coming in from the bathroom at one point—leaking the lobby light into the room and hearing the loud door click—felt like a grotesque interruption of something intimate. That was how much he held the audience in his hand through the music. From the glow of the blue stage light, each face in the crowd gazed forward, spellbound by feeling and thought.
When he made his ending remarks and left the stage, I stayed to observe the crowd, still captivated, slowly shuffling out the doors. Between their excited head nods and whispered compliments, it was clear that the show had an ever-potent effect on us all.
It was then when a thought dawned on me: The concert felt like Perfume. The music, like precipitation, fell onto the crowd softly and clung to them. Light and airy by touch, but bold in presence; the concert remained in the room far after the last note rang out. Because a show like that doesn’t just end when the sound does, it settles into you and lingers—as if doused in Perfume. (Genius)
You can listen to Glory on all streaming platforms and find more Perfume Genius at www.perfumegenius.org.
Find more photographs from this show here.