It might not quite be as representative of the record’s contents as Ninajirachi, but the cover of ‘Glory’, showing the aftermath of a car crash that has flung Mr Genius through the window of his house and deposited him, broken and disfigured, onto the floor of his own living room. The crash may have just happened, it may have happened hours ago – days, weeks? – but it’s clear that Mr Genius has found himself smashed upon the carpet of his home and decided “No, no, I’m very happy slowly dying here, thank you very much”.
I don’t know is Mr Genius (known as Perfume Hadreas by his friends) has ever suffered a life threatening, completely debilitating injury, but I definitely feel that.
There’s a stage of pain – when all your body has been completely ravaged by blunt force trauma and no piece of you remains still responding with full capacity – where you just don’t feel the pain anymore. I’m not a scientist – despite the frequent scientific truth bombs that I am liable to drop liberally on this blog (I’m just a very, very smart person) – so I can’t show the stats calc and trig , but it might be your entire body in so much shock that it basically nopes out of transmitting pain through your nervous system. It’s a lot of work in these situations, and I appreciate how your body isn’t paid extra for the massively increased workload, so are well within their rights to stage a walk-out #WorkersRights. Or maybe you can still feel pain signals being transmitted from every body part you have, but you’re just used to it. So this is how life feels from this point onward? Aight, better adapt to it I guess. Seriously, you will be amazed at what shit both your body and your mind are able to adapt to, great design work by The Big Guy upstairs. Subhaan Allah, Alhamdo lillah, Allaho Akbar!!
The cover of ‘Glory’ to me shows the moment – or maybe the minute, hour, day… – after the collision, when a victim becomes acquiescent with their own depletion. Where they become cognisant enough of their own debilitated state to weirdly accept it as their new being. And they find themselves on the floor of their welcoming, comfy living room. They’re safe here. Their new enfeebled state means that they’re no longer saddled with responsibilities. They can’t do anything anymore, so they don’t need to. Perhaps they’ll die from their injuries. But the lack of responsibilities would remain.
There’s something gruesomely calming about utter incapacitation. You’re removed from the world and its incessant obligations. I was in hospital for six months after my failed suicide attempt in 2013. I wrote a fucking book about it, read all about it if you’ve got
a few minutes to spare. When I was in hospital, it was officially agreed by everyone that I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t wash myself, I couldn’t go to the toilet, I couldn’t control my bowel movements, I couldn’t leave my bed. I didn’t have to cut my hair, or buy groceries, or choose meals, or cook food. I didn’t have to do anything that the world demands that I do and it was liberating. I remember when I was told that I was being discharged from hospital, and the fear that set in. I’m done with that world!! Haven’t I already shown how ill-equipped I am for duties and human engagement?!?! When I was married to my second wife, I was rushed to hospital with a mystery and extremely serious illness that took the fuckers weeks to diagnose (it was Ulcerative Colitis, but it happened during COVID as was so off-brand that it threw a lot of doctors off). When I was diagnosed with an exciting new condition and a dozen new tablets to take each day, I was greeted by my wife, we exchanged pleasantries, and she went to her room to study for an exam. Alone in our living room, I burst into tears. I want to go back to the hospital!! I want to escape this life again!!!
In my lowest moments, I don’t always dream of suicide. Sometimes I try and meet the woke Samaritan mind virus halfway. OK, what if I don’t kill myself, but I just got really injured again?? When the black dog starts humping my leg and shitting in my duvet, I often dream of putting my right leg in a wood chipper. That leg’s already fucked! A decent wood shredding isn’t gonna make that much of a difference!! But it will necessitate a looooooooooooong hospital stay, maybe on full sick pay. The rest of my real world life can just sort it fucking self out.
And… yeah, that’s what the cover of ‘Glory’ represents. It’s a lot more symbolic, I get that, while I could perhaps be accused of making shit a bit too real, but the spirit is there. On ‘Glory’ the idea is more just giving up to disengagement, allowing yourself to feel removed and mentally displaced from the world in order to just get through it. It is, of course, a hugely selfish and egocentric belief – that both I and Mr Genius recognise – but still one that you can’t help but long for in your darkest moments when you start to think you’re just too fragile to exist in so harsh a world.
‘Glory’ is nowhere near as good as Mr. Genius’s previous two albums, but it’s still a fucking masterpiece – the idiot just happens to have set himself ridiculously high standards. Also, maybe give the other kids a chance, aye, Mr. Genus?
2022 #47, 2020 #2 (-13, the 2022 album doesn’t count, OK?) , 2017 #1 🏆
The kids on the street only give it 76, likely because of homophobia
OK, that’s a hate crime. Capezio worst track??? No, I don’t know what a ‘capezio’ is either, but still…!
Necessary Evil 