It finished very, very well with a couple of numbers a capella. But it started rough. Didn't get right into it. Having performed the night before at another festival in another country might be reasons tabled. Mr Wainright couldn't even really talk at the beginning - all uhms and aahs and sentences restarted. It augured not well.
There were two songs for his fiance, Jorn Weisbrodt, the worst songs of the evening. The first was a rickety ole thing in a tired and tiring 12/8. The second was no better and fortunately segued into another number so we didn't have to not applaud. Only about a quarter, maybe a third of the numbers were familiar to me.

If you do visit him in Wikipedia, at the time of writing you'll find 20 refs to opera. A queer fish.
And it was wonderful to hear other solo singers - both of the backing vocalists and the lead guitarist had solos. They were all outstanding, and better voices than RW. Technically.
It was silly to flop, bog and fop his hair around. It was like, this is what we do to show how much we're in to doing what we're doing. It so didn't work.
His references to Vienna were glorious. Anecdotes about his trips to Vienna, things he'd seen live on the very stage on which he was performing, and as if he'd read my mind, he really wasn't sure that a pop singer in jazz festival on an opera stage was going to work.
It did. Can you see the roar of the crowd. We loved it.
It did. Can you see the roar of the crowd. We loved it.
I didn't know that Rufus Wainwright had a daughter, which led me to: I didn't know that Leonard Cohen had a daughter. Which is sort of great, the not knowing in general. I am always dead curious to know everything about artists, know how the public is informed by the private, etc., but I prefer that it be kept to their choices, that their fame be conveyed as little as possible upon their children.
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