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November 10, 2005
Rufus the Baptist
Rufus Wainwright is one of a handful of artists who upon first hearing I stopped what I was doing, felt every hair on my body rise up, and immediately called the radio station to ask who was that? When I bought his debut CD (the self-titled Rufus Wainwright) my initial thought was this boy has so much talent he doesn't know what to do with it. Like Roger Federer (if you follow tennis) who was widely regarded as the best player for a few years before he actually started winning major tournaments because he was so skilled at every shot and had so many weapons that he often got stymied as to which one to use, Rufus can do anything. Ballads, rock, opera, show tunes, waltzes, hymns. He can be funny or he can make you cry. Sometimes he does both at once. With each CD (he's got four now) he's gotten better at channeling that talent, if not exactly reining it in.
Although criminally under known by the public at large, he counts among his fans Leonard Cohen, Sting, and Elton John, who not only steered Rufus toward rehab when his crystal meth habit was veering out of control, but calls him, "the best songwriter on the planet."
So last week was a good week. A Rutopian kind of week. Tuesday I was in NYC to see him at The Beacon Theater. It's not every day you get to watch a performer get crucified wearing a blue Halston gown, but at a Rufus show you get a little bit of everything: music, comedy, dance and theater. Rufus has never been one to shy away from controversy or speaking his mind. He said recently that his song "Gay Messiah" started out as a joke but -- given the fundamentalist agenda of the current administration -- has turned into a prayer. He drove this point home by singing the number draped on a huge white cross, wearing the aforementioned gown as well as a beaux-arts mask and a crown of thorns (sparkly, of course.)
Later that night I dreamed that Rufus died and all his fans were bereft, but then he came back to life and let everyone hug him to show that he was real. I put my arms around him and he was solid, but when I looked down I saw that he didn't have feet and was floating about six inches off the ground. Funny how religious symbolism can affect your subconscious.
Rufus's witty stage banter alone is worth the price of admission and the quips were flying in New York He commented that the flares on his pant legs made him feel like "a Clydesdale. That's a kind of horse." Before "Go or Go Ahead" he said, "This next song I've pulled out of retirement. It's very angry and very demanding and I hope you enjoy me slaughtering my soul up here. Just enjoy." After the song he declared, "That song is like my youngest deranged daughter. I've got to send that song to rehab."
Introducing the bouncy new song, "Between my Legs" Rufus said it was "about a friend of mine who may be here tonight. No. He's coming tomorrow night. So let's talk about him. He's very good looking and that's dangerous for me." When Rufus introduced the same song at the Fleet Pavilion in Boston this past August (yes, I've seen him three times in three months) he read the first verse before singing it, "because it's so brilliant. I want to make sure you hear it." If you didn't know better, it might sound like he's full of himself, but everything is said with self deprecating humor and tongue firmly in cheek.
Rufus struggled with his voice in New York. Whether he was fighting a cold or was out of shape from having a month off is unclear, but his normally perfect control was missing, especially in the upper registers. There were times he'd open his mouth to hit a high note and nothing would come out. Rufus being Rufus, he just shook his head, rolled his eyes and moved on, but it was anxiety producing as an audience member, wondering when and if it would happen again. He apologized, saying, "I hope it's ok that my voice is a little funky tonight. I kind of like it. I'm used to it being perfect." Reports were it improved the next night, and by Friday, at the Calvin Theater in Northampton, it was almost 100 percent. (Note to Rufus: maybe this would be a good time to quit smoking.)
The only other thing that was off was the new speeded up arrangement of "The Art Teacher." Why mess with perfection? The CD version (on Want Two) is just Rufus and the piano and never fails to move me to tears. In concert he added drums, bass, and guitar which sounded overly busy and robbed the song of its pathos.
During "Old Whore's Diet" Rufus and the band left the stage and came back dressed in robes. While the CD version of the song played, they performed a dance spoofing opening band OK Go's irresistible performance of "A Million Ways." As "Old Whore's Diet" faded away, Rufus stripped off his robe to reveal the blue gown. Roadies dressed like Roman guards brought out the cross, the crown, the mask, and red lipstick, and Rufus sang "Gay Messiah." That was the end of the set proper. For the encore he came back out in a bathrobe and tube socks and sang a lovely new song called "Low Grade Happiness." The last two songs were the Leonard Cohen cover of "Hallelujah" which was on the Shrek Soundtrack and the uplifting "Beautiful Child."
Friday's setlist at the Calvin was pretty much the same. There was no "Natasha," "Vibrate," or "Low Grade Happiness," but we got "Pretty Things" and "Foolish Love" instead. One highlight was a perfect version of "This Love Affair" during which there was rapt silence in the audience and before which Rufus thanked Ok Go, "the cutest band in show business for opening for me. They're cute, they sound great, and they have nice butts." He let this sink in for a minute and then sighed, "Ok. On to tragedy."
He praised Northampton for being an "educated, charming, sexually advanced, pastoral place" and said he "dressed up hippie" for us with his rainbow stripes and scarf. No one can rock a scarf the way Rufus can. The man was born for neck wear.
Another highlight was "Go or Go Ahead" which starts out soft and wistful and builds to a dramatic gospel-like cathartic finish. Rufus also nailed Leonard Cohen's "Chelsea Hotel #2" a song about Janis Joplin:
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
you were talking so brave and so sweet,
giving me head on the unmade bed,
while the limousines wait in the street.
Those were the reasons and that was New York,
we were running for the money and the flesh.
And that was called love for the workers in song
probably still is for those of them left.
Google the rest of the lyrics. They're worth it.
Introducing "The Art Teacher" Rufus said the most thought provoking thing of the night, "If Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, and I were playing poker and our songs were cards, this is the one I'd put down."
Rufus's band was superb. Jason Harp on keyboard, Jeff Hill on bass, Matt Johnson on drums, Jack Petruzelli on guitar, Juliana Ray on guitar and backup vocals, and Joan Wasser on violin and backup vocals. New Yorkers should not miss a chance to see Petruzelli's other band The Fab Faux – the world's best Beatles tribute band, playing songs live that the Beatles themselves never played. Word is they're actually better than the Beatles.
Ok Go plays bouncy 80's style new wavish skinny tie dance music. They try really hard to please and most of the time succeed. Bonus points for coming onstage to the Buzzcock's "Why Can't I touch it?" What really makes them irresistible is their choreographed dance for "A Million Ways" which they filmed in one take with one camera in one of their backyards and turned into a video. When they recreate it onstage the crowd is on their feet, screaming with laughter and appreciation. You can watch it on their website. And Rufus is right. They do have nice butts.
Posted by Laura at 12:11 AM | Comments (0)