Mike Hadreas doesn't just write songs. He carves them out of his own ribs. When you listen to Perfume Genius it’s a mirror, you aren't just hearing a track from the 2022 album Ugly Season; you’re witnessing a literal reflection of a body in motion, a soul in transit, and a creator who has finally stopped blinking at his own image.
It's raw. Honestly, it’s a bit terrifying if you’re not prepared for it.
The song serves as a centerpiece for a project that originally began as a collaboration with choreographer Kate Wallich and the dance company The YC. This wasn't meant to be "radio music." It was meant to be the sonic backbone for a dance piece titled The Sun Still Burns Here. Because of that, the structure is jagged. It feels like someone breathing down your neck while you’re trying to look at yourself in a dimly lit bathroom. Hadreas has always dealt in the currency of vulnerability, but here, the vulnerability has teeth.
The Disorientation of the Self
The lyrics are sparse. "It’s a mirror," he sings, but it’s less of a statement and more of an accusation. If you’ve followed Hadreas since the days of Learning or Put Your Back N' It, you know his evolution. He went from a shaky-voiced kid behind a piano to a glam-rock deity on No Shape, and then he hit this wall of experimental abstraction.
In Perfume Genius it’s a mirror, the music doesn't follow a verse-chorus-verse map. It wanders.
It creeps.
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There are these long stretches of instrumental tension that feel like physical weight. It’s meant to evoke the feeling of a body being pushed to its limits. Think about the way a dancer's muscle tremors when they hold a pose too long—that is exactly what this song sounds like. Hadreas worked with producer Blake Mills, a man known for making instruments sound like they’re made of wood and skin rather than electricity and silicon. The result is a texture that feels almost uncomfortably human.
Why Ugly Season Changed Everything
For a long time, the narrative around Perfume Genius was about trauma and recovery. He was the poster child for "sad indie music." But Ugly Season—the album containing Perfume Genius it’s a mirror—pivoted away from the narrative entirely. It moved toward the abstract.
He told Pitchfork around the time of the release that he wanted to find "the grotesque and the beautiful" in the same space. You can hear that in the way the synths buzz. They aren’t clean. They’re distorted, wobbling in and out of tune like a warped VHS tape. It forces the listener to confront the idea that a mirror doesn't always show you what you want to see. Sometimes it shows you the parts of yourself that are unfinished or messy.
There's this specific moment in the track where the percussion starts to feel like a heartbeat under stress. It’s rhythmic but unpredictable. It reminds me of the way some people describe the "body horror" elements of Hadreas’s work. He isn't afraid to be ugly. In an industry obsessed with "vibe" and "aesthetic," Hadreas is obsessed with the actual, sweaty reality of being alive.
The Dance Connection You Can’t Ignore
You can't really "get" the song without understanding the physical movement it was born from. The dance piece, The Sun Still Burns Here, required Hadreas to be on stage, moving his body in ways he hadn't before. He wasn't just the "singer" anymore; he was a physical object in space.
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- The music reflects that physical exhaustion.
- It mirrors the repetition of a rehearsal.
- It captures the frustration of a limb that won't go where it's told.
When he repeats "It's a mirror," he’s talking about the audience, sure. But he’s also talking about the rehearsal room wall. He’s talking about the way a performer sees themselves reflected back in the eyes of a crowd and has to decide which version of themselves is real.
Decoding the Soundscape
The production on Perfume Genius it’s a mirror is intentionally claustrophobic. Blake Mills used a lot of room sound. You can hear the air in the room. You can hear the mechanical clicking of the instruments. It’s the opposite of a "clean" pop production.
Most people expect a climax in a song like this. They expect a "Queen" moment where the drums kick in and everything becomes anthemic. That never happens. Instead, the song stays in this state of perpetual tension. It’s a slow burn that never actually catches fire—it just smolders until it leaves a hole in the floor.
It's risky. Labels hate this stuff because it’s hard to put on a "Chill Hits" playlist. But for the fans who have stayed since 2010, it’s the most honest thing he’s ever done. It’s a refusal to be "pretty" for the sake of the listener.
Navigating the Legacy of Mike Hadreas
If you're new to this specific era of his work, it can be a lot. You might find yourself wondering if it's even "music" in the traditional sense. It is. But it’s music as an installation. It’s music as a sculpture.
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Hadreas has talked about his struggles with Crohn’s disease and how that has shaped his relationship with his body. When you know that, the line "It's a mirror" takes on a much heavier meaning. The body is something that can betray you. It's something you have to look at every day, even when it feels like a stranger. This song is a sonic exploration of that estrangement.
It’s also important to note that Ugly Season didn't just happen in a vacuum. It was a reaction to the polished success of Set My Heart on Fire Immediately. He had achieved this level of "Indie Royalty," and his response was to retreat into a dark room and make something that sounded like a fever dream. That’s a boss move.
Actionable Ways to Experience This Music
Don't just put this on in the background while you're doing dishes. You'll miss the point. To actually understand the weight of Perfume Genius it’s a mirror, you need to engage with it intentionally.
- Watch the film: There is a short film by visual artist Jacolby Satterwhite that accompanies the album. It’s a surreal, CGI-heavy journey that matches the music’s intensity. Seeing the visuals helps ground the abstract sounds.
- Listen on high-quality headphones: This isn't a laptop speaker song. There are low-end frequencies and tiny, textured noises that only show up if you’ve got a decent soundstage.
- Read the liner notes for Ugly Season: Understanding the collaborative nature of the dance troupe changes how you hear the timing of the instruments.
- Compare it to his early work: Listen to "Mr. Peterson" and then listen to "It's a Mirror." The jump in confidence and experimentation is staggering. It shows an artist who is no longer afraid of his own shadow.
The brilliance of Mike Hadreas lies in his ability to make you feel uncomfortable and seen at the exact same time. He holds up the mirror, and even if what’s looking back is a bit distorted, it’s undeniably real.