Caught Live: Perfume Genius @ St. Philip's Church, Manchester

When news broke a few months back of a Perfume Genius European tour, we wondered whether songs that are already pretty soul-destroying on record might prove almost too much to bear in a live setting. So it's with a certain degree of curiosity that we join the congregation inside St. Philip's Church on this typically rainy Manchester evening. Joined onstage by a keyboardist and backing vocalist, Mike Hadreas' falsetto tonight seems to consume all the air around it. Debut album Learning is a raw exercise in soul-searching that's both intoxicating and harrowing, Hadreas' dark lyrics making for difficult listening in places. But, while the likes of 'Write To Your Brother' and the album's spine-tingling title track sound more powerful than ever during this brief set - leaving some members of the (admittedly rather small) audience visibly unsettled - the pervading sadness is thankfully diluted by Mr. Genius' sheer awkwardness in-between songs. The Seattleite's scattered mumblings come across as cute more than anything else, mentioning after one odd ramble: “I’m sorry, that’s not even funny. Or banter. I’m just babbling now."

Although he may not yet be the most comfortable of live performers, Hadreas' songs sound perfectly at home in such spiritual surroundings. True, it might be hard to picture Perfume Genius playing in a 'traditional' venue, but the beautiful interior of St. Philip's perfectly complements the hushed intimacy of tonight's material. A captivated crowd predictably laps it all up, with the occasional “Whoop!” even creeping in amongst the ripples of polite applause - something I couldn’t really have imagined happening beforehand.

Sure, there might be times when the odd mistake creeps in early on - put that down to nerves - but Hadreas quickly gets into his stride, his piano-led ballads washing all over those in attendance. The notable highlight tonight is 'Mr. Peterson'; telling the complicated tale of a relationship between a 16 year-old Mike and his teacher, it's little surprise that lines like “I hope there’s room for you up above / Or down below” bring tears to more than a few eyes. Although not playing for too long (Learning itself comes in at just under the half-hour mark), he does still manage not one, but two encores, leaving both himself and the audience suitably happy. He'll be back on these shores soon, no doubt to play to much bigger crowds. In the meantime, if you’re after something heartbreaking, unsettling but beautiful, then this Genius is for you.