"Genesis P-Orridge was born in Manchester but wasn't ever a part of the Manchester scene. A few weeks ago he died at the age of 70, although, to his credit, he looked more like a very well preserved 365-year old - which was nice. He was a multifarious non-musician who never lost his strangeness, and who was viciously attacked by the British tabloids because he (perhaps like they) enjoyed 'indecent' books. His albums with Throbbing Gristle have an overdeveloped erotic sensitivity, all of which he made appear to be, in fact, quite nice. He gave without reservation, making music at 19 years old until his recent days as a nightmare teenager of 70.
Since none of his emotions were manufactured he was therefore never of interest to the power arms of the music industry. His singing voice, it's quite true, could behead roses, and his musicians often made the mistake of confusing chemicals with creativity. And it was all quite nice. Genesis P-Orridge had an extra eye (artistically so) - and your mocking laughter soon dissolved into a magnetic attraction for someone of wide culture and colossal memory.
Obviously he saw our chosen obedient way of living as a sterile hell (for who wouldn't?), and his concept of talent utilized almost anything as a possible musical instrument : whatever you need to save you is right there within you. This, also, was quite nice. Eventually he became the women he loved. Genesis became trans-Something - as if his body would now duplicate precisely what it desired in others. Often this made him look as if in the 10th month of a strenuous pregnancy, but it didn't matter very much. He had the ability to make everything seem alright, and perhaps without realizing it himself, he was very nice. After all, why remain as a fixed image … from forceps to funeral?"

Morrissey, 22 April 2020

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