With a title that demands attention and music that refuses to apologize, queer punk provocateur Dagger Polyester has officially entered the arena. Their debut album, Perversion for Profit, released August 1, is a genre-fluid firestorm of rebellion, performance, and raw political commentary, all tracked at L.A.’s legendary Sunset Sound and produced by none other than Chris Robinson of The Black Crowes.
If punk is protest and glam is theater, Dagger Polyester stands at the intersection, wrapped in sequins, soaked in sweat, and ready to incite. Their music is a confrontation: against commercialized queerness, rising fascism, gender norms, and the sanitized spectacle of mainstream identity.
In conversation with Gayety, Polyester unpacked the making of Perversion for Profit, their inspirations, and why every show is a “sweaty, chaotic sermon” on queerness and self-expression.
Q: Perversion for Profit is such a bold and loaded title. What does that phrase mean to you?
Dagger Polyester: Chris [Robinson] actually came across it while watching a documentary — it was scrawled on a protest sign at some anti-pornography rally. Then we found out it was the name of a 1963 propaganda film, funded by a group called Citizens for Decent Literature. I mean, you can’t make this stuff up. It’s hilarious and horrifying.
The phrase captures this contradiction: We’re still battling small-minded censorship and moral panic, but at the same time, we’ve surrendered completely to aestheticism and indulgence. That tension — between suppression and decadence — is the emotional glue of the album. It doesn’t tie everything together literally, but it sets the mood. Scandal, shame, excess. That’s the vibe.
Q: Your single “She Kissed the Gun” references the tragic death of Lana Clarkson. Why did that moment resonate with you?
Polyester: Phil Spector used the phrase “she kissed the gun” during his trial — as part of his defense. I couldn’t get it out of my head. It haunted me for years until the song finally came out.
I grew up in Los Angeles. Fame is a religion here, and this story felt strangely personal, like it happened in my own family. I approached it like a fable — not to sensationalize Lana’s death, but to show how dangerous this industry can be for people, especially women, who aspire to fame. It’s a cautionary tale, drenched in glam and tragedy.
Q: What was it like recording at Sunset Sound?
Polyester: It scared the hell out of me — in the best way. Prince, The Doors, Janis Joplin — their ghosts are in the walls. I wanted to rise to the occasion. I’d pick my outfit the night before, iron everything, polish my shoes. It felt like sacred ground. That kind of reverence fuels a better performance. You walk in knowing you’ve got to give blood.
Q: Sonically, the record blends so many influences — from punk and disco to Bowie-esque glam and art rock. How did you manage that balance?
Polyester: I didn’t! Laughs. Left to my own devices, it would’ve been chaos. That’s why Chris was essential. He knows how to take something messy and make it feel intentional. He’d gently say, “This is a great idea, but no one’s going to listen to that art school nonsense.” We met in the middle — between madness and structure.
Q: The live shows have taken on a life of their own. What can someone expect at a Dagger Polyester performance?
Polyester: Expect to leave sweaty and changed. The show is everything to me — part concert, part performance art, part exorcism. I was influenced by drag, Dadaism, Fluxus. I like to blow things up emotionally and start over every night. One show I brought a roasted duck on stage and screamed, “WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BABY?!” It’s absurd. It’s honest. It’s punk.
Q: The album doesn’t shy away from political themes — especially on tracks like “Conversion Therapy” and “We Stand on the Shoulders of Giants.” How do you navigate being both artist and activist?
Polyester: I don’t separate them. Being queer is political. Being this queer — loud, femme, unfiltered — is already a statement. I’m not trying to preach, but I am trying to scream a little. “Conversion Therapy” came from watching the rise in transphobic rhetoric. “Giants” is for every queer elder who took real risks just to be. If we don’t speak up now, they’ll erase us again.
Q: Favorite lyric on the album?
Polyester: “She kissed the gun / and it kissed her back.” That one guts me. But also, “We stand on the shoulders of giants / and still we can’t see.” That’s the thesis of the whole thing, really. We’ve inherited so much — beauty, freedom, mess — and we’re still fumbling in the dark.
Perversion for Profit is available now on all streaming platforms, with vinyl and CDs available for purchase. Polyester will announce fall tour dates soon.
Album Tracklist:
- We Stand On The Shoulders Of Giants
- Conversion Therapy
- Father Panik
- Spin
- Affection
- She Kissed The Gun
- Cheap
- The Tower
- Will
