I saw Perfume Genius in November 2010; I hated him. “Whoa there!”, I hear you cry – hot coffee spitting from your mouths in shock. Don’t be too hasty, don’t turn the page, don’t ‘Command + T’ away: there’s redemption at the end of this article.

He was playing at the beautiful Cecil Sharp House in Camden. It’s a regal building first opened in 1930 and the home of the English Folk Dance and Song Society. My friend had invited me believing that Perfume Genius would be, in his words, “right down my street”. I used to spend a lot of time on folk road, with the likes of Laura Marling and Mumford & Sons, so he had good reason to trust in his judgement. Unfortunately he hadn’t realised that I’d converted the road into a shared space full of electronic ambient music – Perfume Genius’ wistful piano laments fell onto disinterested ears. I left the gig fully enjoying explaining to my friend that “nah man, just not into that kind of thing as much anymore”.

The memory of that night quickly disappeared from my mind, until last week. I was scrambling around for a suitable ‘Album of the Week’ after I was told that Burial’s new three-track EP “didn’t count as an album’. (I still recommend you check it out – it’s called _Kindred _[Spotify Link]). Thus I came across _Put Your Back N 2 It _[Spotify Link] on Pitchfork. When the first note struck me, and his hurt-drenched voice emerged, I felt winded.

Memories of Cecil Sharp House flooded to the front of my mind. Of course the songs on this album, Mike Hadreas’ second, are not the same that he performed then – but what at the time felt obnoxious has now grown into such careful and unimpeachable sensitivity.

Perfume Genius writes unashamedly introspective music. He sings, with a voice heavy with heartache, lyrics like “Hold my hand, I am afraid. Please pray for me, When I am away”. But I urge you not to dismiss it as I was so foolish to do at Cecil Sharp House. Pay attention and you’ll find that this isn’t whinging – it’s an exploration of his inner-self. You feel like you’re walking through the dark caverns of his heart, shining your flash light at the cave-drawings on the walls – not knowing exactly how you came to that spot and where you’ll emerge into the light again.

Well, I suppose that’s enough metaphor for one week – take your time with this one, choose the right time to listen to it.

If you think my use of metaphor was a bit over the top this week, tweet “Let’s have less of the fancy flower arrangements next week!” @kadhimshubber. Alternatively, tweet a virtual hug @perfumegenius, and let him know it’ll all be ok, one day.