An Appreciation of Rufus Wainwright

As I ponder the wondrous news that I have managed to secure tickets to see Rufus Wainwright perform his Judy Garland tribute for one last time at the Albert Hall early next month, I thought it would be nice if I jotted down for posterity just how much I love and appreciate his work (and, of course, THAT voice), and discuss his music along with some personal anecdotes - as is my way on this blog - and even possibly encourage some non-fans to go and explore his work. Sometime pleather-clad glam rock n roll star, sometime torch singer, opera writer, cabaret and burlesque inspired performance artist, and all round dandy, there are few genres that Rufus doesn't have a toe tipped in, and his work is a rich, technicoloured tapestry. I first discovered him through his Want 1 and Want II albums back in 2003, and each album was a revelation. His beautiful, emotive voice enraptured me from the first moment I heard it, and the swooning strings, the glorious arrangements and the theatricality and wittiness of the lyrics were like gold dust. This is the first thing I ever heard by Rufus and it was a life changing moment. Just listen to this voice...

- Rufus Wainwright, Agnus Dei

And then there was the first time I saw him perform in concert, which was at the Apollo in Manchester in 2004. From the very first second he started singing on 'Oh What a World', I knew I was in the presence of someone who had been blessed by the invisible hand of the divine. For this live experience was like bathing in sonic honey, purple-hued and jam-packed with feeling. His voice was as rich as velvet and yet, at random moments, would crack and rasp with deep emotion, just like Frank Sinatra's did. The closest analogy I can offer is that I actually felt like I was listening to a pre-Raphaelite painting. And if, as the novelist Thomas Mann observed, all art aspires to the condition of music, perhaps what I actually was experiencing was this idea in full, and, sitting just behind me, the ghostly spirit of Dante Gabriel Rossetti was, unknown to us all, drowning in the glory of his own pictures being turned into ecstatic melody, whilst no doubt making a million observations of my fine lady at the same time so she could be his next portrait study (what a masterpiece that would be). Anyway, it was a supremely magical moment. And Rufus also looked every inch the perfect pop star, for he is a consummate dandy, and you can pretty much rest assured that never will he take to the stage looking like a run of the mill indie singer/songwriter who has just finished doing an oil change on his car. No, Rufus oozes glam and showbiz, darlings, and thank the Lord above that he does!

Another occasion I recall was when I saw him live at Liverpool Philharmonic Hall in 2010, where, surprisingly, he invited fans up to join him on the stage during his encore. Because my CF was particularly bad that day, I couldn't make it onto the stage. But a young man in a deep velvet jacket who looked a lot like your very own Nocturnal Butterfly, did get onto the stage, and my eagle-eyed observation caught Rufus checking him out. Now, dear reader, although I may appear calm and composed in these words, if it had been possible for the world to see the Troilus-levels depth of jealousy that my burning heart experienced at that moment, I would imagine that many of them would have had to go and have a lie down after witnessing it. Oh, to have been cruised by Rufus Wainwright! Ahh, the tears that were shed, and the deep sighs that were emitted in the car on the journey home, and all because of The Man That Got Away.

But hardly had my love affair with Rufus become established when tragedy struck both him and me, almost at the same time. For, within a year of each other, both our beloved mothers passed away. Out of this heartbreak came one of his most astonishing albums, All Days are Nights: Songs For Lulu, and it sound-tracked my own grief in a way no other piece of music could. He performed this album in its entirety at the Apollo in Manchester in April 2010, and it will remain in my memory forever as one of the most profound musical experiences of my life. The album consists of Rufus singing whilst being accompanied only by his own piano playing, and this was what he recreated on stage that night. With placards placed throughout the auditorium requesting silence and no applause from the audience until Rufus had exited the stage after finishing his first set, it was clear that this was going to be something very different to a usual concert experience. He entered the stage, dressed in a long black dress with a long train flowing behind, sat down at his piano, looked up at the sole spotlight, paused for a few seconds, before proceeding through fifty minutes of the most heart-wrenching, yet soul-healing music in a manner that remains beyond my ability to accurately describe. Hearing the songs 'Sad With What I Have', 'Sonnet 20' (with words by Shakespeare), 'True Loves', and the closing, devastating 'Zebulon', are still some of the most sacred artistic moments I have ever had in my life. And although there was talk of many disgruntled audience members leaving the concert and not returning after the interval, I can only say I pity them if this was indeed the case. Rufus was incredibly brave performing in such a naked, vulnerable way, and it helped me enormously with my own grief, and brought me so close to my mum that at times I felt like she was still in these realms and sitting in the auditorium next to me. I suppose some people merely expect to be entertained when they attend a concert. Fortunately, most people attend for Art.

A year or so later, Rufus announced that he was going to marry his partner, Bjorn (see picture above), and incredibly, his timeline was almost exactly the same as mine and my good lady, for we ourselves were just putting the finishing touches to our wedding arrangements, after deciding to finally take the plunge after being engaged for almost ten years. Well, we both wanted to be sure, didn't we? The date we arranged to tie the knot was in December 2012, and, once again, Rufus was on hand to soundtrack this most glorious happening in my entire life.

Because of this, one of my deepest, everlasting connections with Rufus's work is his Out of the Game album, which had been released just over a month before me and my fine lady got married, and to ensure that I was in as tip-top a condition as possible, my routine fourteen days intravenous antibiotic therapy in hospital was arranged by the consultant to conclude a few days before Lydia and I got married. , And strange though it may seem, some of the best days of my entire life were those days I spent in hospital in the week before Lydia and me got married. For listening to that wonderful new album, so sweeping and romantic, both lyrically and sonically, in a time of intense anticipation of the magical realisation that I was actually marrying the great Love of My Life in a couple of weeks' time, was actually sublime. It was utterly delicious, and although I desperately wanted the big day to arrive, another part of me would have liked to hold on to that intense feeling of lush anticipated longing forever. There were many, many songs that fitted my elated mood, but perhaps this one was the closest to the mark, containing these fabulous lyrics:

So, baby, welcome to the ball!

Don’t worry about nothing at all,

I don’t know how you made it in

But since you have arrived...

Let it begin!

'Cause something in your eyes has
made this room a much more brighter place,

The chandeliers and fireplaces
all seem jealous of your face,

Something in your smile has left
 A light that has left a trace,

Come and take my hand,
I'll let you lead me to the promised land...

- Rufus Wainwright, Welcome to the Ball

And then, there is his love and knowledge of opera, which, in turn, nurtured my love of opera in turn. I hardly need to emphasise how important a trusted, knowledgeable, guiding hand is when it comes to the myriad, divine world of grand opera, with all its passion, lust, romance and tragedy. And, along with Freddie Mercury, who could be a better Virgil to hold my hand through the dark wood of opera, so savage and harsh and dense, and the thought of which renews my fear, to paraphrase Dante.

And, so, in great anticipation I look forward immensely to next week's concert. How magical it will be. Rufus, with his extraordinary voice, and with an astonishing full band, recreating Judy Garland's famous 1961 comeback concert, which Rufus himself described as being "the greatest night in showbiz." What a dazzling treat it will be, a feast for the ears, eyes, soul and senses. As good as it gets, actually.