cowboydj's Full Review: Rufus Wainwright by Rufus Wainwright
Contrary to his father's amusing lyrical double-entendre, Rufus, as it turns out, is distinctly not a "tit man."
For those not familiar with folk-artist Loudon Wainwright's irrepressible song, the birth of Rufus prompted Wainwright's devilish lyrics, which at first seem to suggest sexual fetish, when in actuality they refer to the means by which baby Rufus acquired his lunch.
What those lyrics maintained in the way of cleverness, they lacked in prophecy, much to the chagrin of the wildly heterosexual Loudon.
Knowing this lends yet another layer of interest and meaning to what is already the most brilliant debut recording in as long as I can remember. The eponymous disc is the work of a brilliant, accomplished master masquerading as a twenty-year-old newcomer.
Impossible to categorize, Rufus Wainwright's first recording has languished in obscurity, slowly collecting word-of-mouth sales from its appearance on many a critic's picks list for 1998. Believe the hype.
Imagine for a moment that Samuel Barber, Elvis Costello, Leonard Cohen, John Lennon and Stephen Foster were actually one person, and you have an idea of the breath-taking talent this man possesses. Wainwright's songs are compressed epics; his quirky, intelligent, poetic narratives framed by imaginative, often profoundly beautiful musical settings.
I don't wanna hold you
and feel so helpless
--Rufus implores in "Foolish Love" the album's opening track--
I don't wanna smell you
and lose my senses
And smile in slow motion
with eyes in love
His somber, faltering piano and whiskey-soaked whine call to mind a smoke-filled speakeasy, the whispered confidences of illicit romance and the clink of empty cocktail glasses langourously twisting with song and smoke mid-air. Then just as quickly as we arrived we depart for a Manhattan flat, thick with irony and regret, in "Danny Boy"--
We sit and chat about New York
and trips to the Bayou
My smile a trick, tricking me
and trying not to scare you
And a ship with eight sails
could come 'round the bend
Or a herd of bulls charging
stop-lights red
I'd be blind
You broke my heart Danny Boy
Wainwright follows this apology with the infectious, Beatles-esqe "April Fools," switching from first to third person to narrate the impending demise of his own helpless naivete--
Oh, what a shame that your pockets did bleed
on St. Valentine's
And you sit in a chair thinking
"Boy, I'm such a Prince!"
Well life's a train that goes from February on
day by day
But it's making a stop
on April first
And you will believe in love
and all that it's supposed to be
But just until the fish start to smell
and you're struck down by a hammer
Ouch. Other highlights, if one can compare diamonds to rubies, every song equally dazzling, include the intoxicatingly sensuous ballad "Baby," its orchestral, art-song quality underscored by the legendary Van Dyke Park's swooning strings; "Beauty Mark," it's looney, cartoonishly vaudevillian accompaniment smoke-screen to a tender request for love and acceptance by way of comparison with his mother; an oddly touching ode to opera heroines, "Damned Ladies;" and the inventive Schubert-meets-George Harrison pianistics of "Imaginary Love."
I can't say enough about this record, and considering his superior grasp of the language, it seems appropriate to use his words to sum up how deeply this music moves me. From "In My Arms"--
I ain't a soft and saccharine wannabe
still I pray to God this song will end happily
So I offer you a place to rest and forget yourself
in my arms...tonight
Epinions.com periodically updates pricing and product information from third-party sources, so some information may be slightly out-of-date. You should confirm all information before relying on it.
- Add to My Yahoo!: 
- Add to Google Homepage: 
© 1999-2009 Shopping.com, Inc.