On the Shoulders of Giants: Dagger Polyester Emerges
- Josh Kitchen
- 5 days ago
- 6 min read
By: Josh Kitchen / August 1, 2025
Dagger Polyester is an artist in the truest sense of the word. Imagine Kate Bush by way of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Roxy Music filtered through Vincent Price's House of Wax, or the Sparks brothers with Divine as their art director. A student of the greats, Polyester channels these inspirations into something wholly their own.
Their debut LP, Perversion for Profit, is out today—a glam rock opera fused with grungy punk proclamations echoing from the queer Los Angeles underground. Taking the theatricality of '70s and '80s glam and punk, Polyester twists it into something that feels immediate and vital. Just as their predecessors broke new ground, Polyester is doing the same with nine outstanding tracks that challenge and redefine what it means to be queer in music today.
Produced by Chris Robinson of The Black Crowes, Perversion for Profit is a sonic triumph. Polyester’s high-pitched vocals recall early Kate Bush and Russell Mael, layered over T. Rex-inspired guitar riffs and DEVO-style art-pop ingenuity. It’s a record that satisfies deeply, bursting with personality, rebellion, and heart.
I spoke with Dagger Polyester about the album, their inspirations, the queer foundations of rock and roll, and being moved to tears by ’80s hair metal.
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Your new album, Perversion for Profit, is out today—and I’m obsessed with it. There’s so much on here for fans of pop, rock and roll, glam, funk... it really hits so many spots.
Thank you for the kind words. This really started probably three or four years ago. I’ve just been writing songs, as I need, a lot. And when Chris [Robinson] approached me to do a record, he really just took his pick from songs I already had. So some of these songs are really, really old, and some of them I wrote in the studio. A couple I just wrote in the studio because they were all across the map timeline-wise, so I had to bridge the gap between them. It wasn’t anything too premeditated. But Chris and I have really similar influences, so we just started building off things we both love. It was very playful and fun and fast—old school. The whole thing was done in 10 days.
How did you get linked up with Chris Robinson from The Black Crowes? You can definitely hear someone behind the boards who cares deeply about the genre and your talent.
I hadn’t heard much of his music! My only impression was from meeting him through mutual friends. He’s a seeker, always looking for the underground. He shows up to punk shows, which people might not expect. He’s always reading new books, going to readings, DIY shows, art shows.
He actually appreciates avant-garde more than you’d expect, given the kind of rock and roll he makes. He helped me simplify a lot of the ideas—I can get really lost in the ornamental side of arranging.
He’d be like, “What if we reign it in? What if there’s just french horn on one song?”
It’s such a smart approach, especially considering all the influences in the album. So many of the artists that inspired this record were ahead of their time—Roxy Music, Sparks, Talking Heads, Kate Bush. Their work felt vital then and still does now. You’re channeling that same energy—confronting love, identity, sex, power—with your own voice. It feels both retro and necessary to the times we're living in now.
It’s tough to ask, “What do we need for these times in terms of aesthetics?” or “How modern does work need to be?” But I always think of this lyric from Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park with George. There’s a moment where a character is stressing about whether his art is cutting edge, and Bernadette Peters’ character says: “Stop worrying if your vision is new. Let others make that decision—they usually do.” That’s stuck with me. The only sustainable way to be an artist is to not worry about reception. Otherwise, you get pulled in so many directions and end up in no man’s land. You have to put the blinders on and focus on the fantasy you want to create and live in. Otherwise, it becomes a miserable experience. I think maybe that’s what being a pop star is—being shackled to the expectations of others.
It’s also refreshing because the references give listeners a glimpse into your world and what inspires you. On the song “Affection,” I hear early pre-Hounds of Love Kate Bush, even in your vocal tone. That whole era—so theatrical, so ambitious.
Yes! I wrote that one maybe freshman year of college, when I was having a Kate Bush renaissance. Especially her early records—there’s such a beautiful spaciousness in them. Even Hounds of Love, though that one’s a bit fuller. Peter Gabriel was involved in production too, helping clear out the mix. Songs like Duran Duran's “The Chauffeur," that experimental pop era was short-lived. The Blue Nile is another influence. All that music lived in an aesthetic world that had a moment, then vanished. I’m stuck in that moment, thinking about how it translates now. That’s something I want to dig into more on the next record. “Affection” was me teaching myself piano because I loved Kate. I used to call what I was doing “guitar band music,” just because I didn’t know what else to call it. It was me trying to transition out of electronic stuff.
Speaking of guitar band music, “Father Panik” rocks. It’s got this T. Rex swagger—with a sick riff.
I love rock. It’s been kind of the final frontier for me. I didn’t grow up with it, so it was mysterious. Like, how does all this sultry, masculine-but-feminine energy get translated through this pretty simple, boxed-in musical form?
Especially when you realize how much glam rock pulled from Little Richard and the early queer roots of rock and soul music. Rock is so queer at its foundation.
Yes! Totally. Rock has always had this queer thread running through it. In eras when queerness was illegal or illicit, it created this tension that was oddly sexy.
Hair metal, cock rock—it’s straight guys in makeup and leather harnesses trying to impress girls. That’s fascinating to unpack.
I love modern pop, love Charli and Troye, but it’s all very out in the open. There’s less tension, less shame to dissect. And we’re in a moment where shame and repression are resurfacing. So for me, rock and queerness intersect in really interesting, uncomfortable, layered ways.
The next logical step for you is fully leaning into ‘80s metal glam. it’s all so masculine, but in hindsight it’s so queer-coded.
Right? We just went to the Rainbow Room anniversary instead of Coachella. They had a festival in the parking lot and we saw Michael Monroe from Hanoi Rocks. My friend and I are obsessed with that world. We always talk about the gender theory of it, but also we just love the spirit. It’s tacky in the most incredible way. I hadn’t cried in two years, and then I cried watching Michael Monroe jump on the truss and hold this note. He’s in the twilight of his career, maybe, or maybe he’ll go forever. It was one of my favorite shows ever. So yeah, maybe more homage to Sunset Strip cock rock in the future. There’s already some of that in this record.
I wanted to ask about the visual side of your work. I know you love Vincent Price. His movies like House of Wax or Theatre of Blood are so musical, colorful, and fun.
That’s the best stuff. I do love Vincent Price. It’s not just horror or gothic, it’s beautiful style. I also love Victorian aesthetics and classic menswear that leans androgynous. Film is a huge influence. I think all musicians are really influenced by film—it’s where so much aesthetic inspiration comes from.
Seen or read anything good lately?
I’ve been rewatching this film called Arrebato by Ivan Zulueta. It's Spanish for Rapture. I can’t stop watching it. Highly recommend. And I'm finishing Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin before a trip to Paris. I’d only read his essays before. It’s heartbreaking—the psychological depth he gets to just by letting the characters live is incredible. I read a little this morning and it put me in a melancholic place, which is maybe not the best way to start a day.
You’ve got an album release show this week.
Yes, it's more of a party. We’ll play a few songs, but really it’s about giving everyone who worked on the record their flowers. Today we’re building some elaborate carnival set pieces to bring to the bar—my friend works there. It’ll be a moment for all the people who helped get this record and its visuals made. They gave so much of their time and labor. I want them to be able to dance. We’ll listen to the vinyl together.
That’s beautiful. I feel like you can hear that sense of community in the songs.
We all trade so many favors. I’ve tried to move from LA, but I can’t organize projects like this anywhere else. The roots run deep. The way people show up for each other—it’s powerful.
Listen to Perversion for Profit here:
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