Rufus Wainwright

16/04/2010

High drama @ Glasgow Royal Concert Hall

 Rufus Wainwright
Glasgow Royal Concert Hall
5/5

As the audience clock a dramatic, cloak-draped, slow-walking figure amidst the near-blackout, the pre-show confabulation comes to a standstill. The silence is startling; the atmosphere is electric with anticipation as a Grim Reaper-esque Wainwright step-by-step makes his way centre-stage.

There’s a long pause before the typically theatrical tenor showcases his rich baritone on the dark ‘So Sad With What I Have’, from his long-awaited album All Days Are Nights: Songs For Lulu – a Shakespearean compilation of raw melancholies.

The setting is stark; the only elaborate element on stage tonight is ‘the voice’. The jet-black backdrop gently fades to reveal a single green eye which gradually concurs with a host of pupils of varying expressions. Despite Wainwright’s concentrative emotional absorbance, this powerful visual connects the audience to him.

The most emotive performance of the first set is the beautiful ‘Zebulon’, which was written when Wainwright’s mother was gravely ill – where ‘the eye’, synchronised with heartbroken Wainwright’s staggering vocals – releases its first and only tear, converging with the shimmering tarmac-like kohl.

Wainwright’s execution of ‘Dream’ is the standout performance of the set; his goosebump-inducing vocals ebb and flow to stunning effect throughout; he downplays his powerful voice only to stun by nailing the high notes. He has a tender affinity with his baby grand, almost treating it like a lover, tenderly tinkering with the ivories; progressively pounding vigorously both key and sostenuto in rhythm with his vocal urgency.

For the second set, the now-softly lit stage houses an altogether more uplifting atmosphere: Wainwright returns to rapturous applause, where the dark cloud makes headway for his more ‘conventional’ hits.

Highlight ‘Cigarettes And Chocolate Milk’ – which marries biting lyrics with luxuriant crescendos whilst referencing loving all that’s detrimental in life – has the audience empathetically swaying in congruence. Even the line-fluffs in ‘Poses’ are forgiven and in fact celebrated thanks, in part, to Wainwright’s playful banter, which further fraternises him to the audience.

Tonight, the harlequin unmasked a completely different persona: a side that’s perhaps a little unnerving to watch, but all the more affective for it. Much like his complex operatic contemporary, Wainwright is a myriad of contradiction: his lyrics are self-referential yet masquerade in lavish character form, as is evident from the beautiful ‘The Art Teacher’, a tale of a young girl’s life-lingering crush. For all his stripped-down confessionals, Wainwright is still very much the modern day Phantom of the Opera.

By Stephanie Beechey