Given his well-documented penchant for theatricality, Rufus Wainwright is the last performer you’d expect to eschew applause. But he did just that last Friday in Chicago, conveyed through a stagehand in a droll pre-show announcement.
“During the first set, Rufus has asked that you please do not applaud until after he has left the stage,” he deadpanned. “His exit is part of the piece.” Following a stifled chuckle or two—possibly from yours truly—we were assured that the second set would permit applause to our collective heart’s content.
The first set was a heady blend of the sublime and the ridiculous. Wainwright emerged in eerie silence from a backlit wing, clad in a low-cut dark dress equipped with no less than a seventeen-foot train. His song cycle, from his stripped-down latest offering, “All Days Are Nights,” contained the soaring vocals and virtuosic piano work that have become his signature. All the while, projected on a screen behind the performer, a series of oversized moist eyeballs gazed and blinked in accompaniment.
For all its theatrical artifice, the first half was rich in its rewards, as we observed a musician of uncommon talent and ambition. His exit was just as measured and silent, and upon its execution, the crowd breathed a palpable sigh of relief. It felt good to applaud at last, and Wainwright had earned every clap.
A far jauntier frontman emerged after the intermission, clad now in a fetching orange paisley suit. He admitted the audacity of his first set, to his credit, and regaled us with winsome banter for the rest of the evening. The selections favored the solo piano compositions in his songbook, hitting varying notes of both lyricism and baudiness. “Memphis Skyline,” a tribute to Jeff Buckley, was particularly touching.
Joining Wainwright on a few numbers was his sister Martha, whose charming opening performance combined her own material with lesser-known Édith Piaf songs—including a show-stopping rendition of “La vie en rose” delivered without amplification. Her impressive vocal stylings were an impressive match for her sibling’s talents, and the evening’s emotional undercurrent—the loss of their mother Kate McGarrigle in January—lent their duets an added gravitas.
Ultimately, the affair felt like both a night at the theater and a piano singalong with an old friend. Few performers would have the guts to stage such an occasion—and even fewer offer the chops to back it up.
DATE: Friday, August 13, 2010
PHOTOGRAPHY BY: Brendan Shanley ( @lostinprint )
REVIEW BY: Matt Herlihy
