Review: Rufus Wainwright, Colston Hall

As with those all too rare musicians and performers who inspire long-term unwavering devotion, Rufus Wainwright has never been afraid to take risks. On a sticky and still night where anyone in their right mind would have stayed at home in front of an industrial sized fan unit rather than venture out to a partially air conditioned venue, this solo show exemplified both risk taking and the dedication of his considerable fanbase. 

Anyone expecting Wainwright to take to the stage in flamboyant fashion would have been disappointed. He strolled in bang on time, waved to the crowd, sat down at the Steinway and immediately launched into the crowd-pleaser Vibrate from the Want 1 album. No fuss, no fripperies, just piano and Wainwright’s distinctive and evocative vocals knocking every note out of the park. 

The 90-minute set which followed spanned Wainwrights entire career – including Danny Boy from his debut album – but leaned heavily towards the Want 1, Want 2 and Out of the Game albums. Highlights of the performance included 11.11, Gay Messiah, The Art Teacher and the highly personal Montauk from Out of the Game which is clearly influenced by the death of his mother and birth of his daughter. Wainwright can be claimed to be a genuine musical polymath, his work straddles styles and genres with ease. As well as straightforward pop, rock and even folk influenced songs he played a couple of chanson, two Shakespeare Sonnets he’d set to music, one being the singularly appropriate Sonnet 20 and the final aria from his opera Prima Donna. Let me know when someone like Calvin Harris or Ed Sheeran manages this sort of artistic feat. 

The strength of Wainwright’s lyrics and melodies was apparent throughout the show. Where some of his songs when recorded are wrapped up in and cossetted by complex arrangements, the stripped back versions bring the key melodies and more importantly the words to the fore. Wainwright has the hugely impressive ability to write tender love songs which can take unexpected twists and turns and yet still move all genders. Wainwright also writes brilliantly from the point of view of a woman – a prime example being The Art Teacher which tells one of the saddest stories committed to music. His rendition convinced you that he was the female protagonist, not just playing a part but inhabiting her psyche. 

This concert was a solo tour de force from a master of his craft.  At no point did the audience’s attention wane. There were no lulls, no points where the crowd seemed restless or distracted, they appeared completely absorbed in the songs and when Wainwright chatted between songs, in what Wainwright had to say. And some of what he had to say was damn funny, if not especially insightful, when the smoke machine was pumping out just a bit too much atmosphere he quipped:

“I like smoke on stage but this is making me feel like I’m in Macbeth”. Maybe you had to be there but he did have a point: it felt like the front rows were creeping towards Dunsinane at one point. 

Wainwright encored with a better version of Cohen’s Hallelujah than Alexandra Burke’s (not hard), a needle sharp critique of the US today Going to a Town and a chanson – La Complainte de la Butte – with lyrics encouraging the listener to go out and live as you wish, which brought a political and defiant note to the end of a stunning concert.