Baroque Pop Idol
Rufus Wainwright on his new album, his "Jesus year," and partying with Barbara Bush.
— By Peter Meredith
DonateNewsletterComments | Post CommentMon May. 14, 2007 12:00 AM PDT
Singer Rufus Wainwright's cabaret sensibility, classical influences, and foppish charm have made him a darling of baroque pop. Starting with his 1998 debut album, he crafted an instantly recognizable sound mixing orchestral arrangements and wryly self-deprecating lyrics.
His latest album, Release the Stars, stays true to the formula. In "Sanssouci," Wainwright sings an ode to the "boys that made me lose my blues and then my eyesight," a winking reference to the crystal meth addiction that left him temporarily blind in 2003.
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The album marks Wainwright's first foray into explicitly political songwriting. On the second track, he sings "I'm so tired of America," the blunt lyrics contrasting with his usual ornate musical arrangement. He spoke to Mother Jones from New York.
Mother Jones: Why are you "so tired of America?"
Rufus Wainwright: The reason the song is so explicit and so direct is that we are at a point where it’s painfully obvious that America has failed in the war, the environment, and a whole list of things. We’re dealing with the end of an empire, and the consequences of that. It’s just a fact that both Democrats and Republicans are grappling with. It’s a sad song. I don’t think it’s malicious. It’s more of a broken-hearted ballad about how we’re all basically devastated about the state of affairs.
MJ: Your parents [folk singers Loudon Wainwright III and Kate McGarrigle] established their careers in the ‘60s. How are your political songs different from their generation's political songs?
RW: I’ve certainly held back for many years in that arena, whereas for my parents’ generation, that was a whole genre and a whole way to sell records. [Laughs.] So it’s been much more measured. And I also have to say that in my time, we are dealing with a much more sinister media and an entertainment industry that is willing to cut off your voice. It’s definitely important that we make these sorts of statements, because not a lot of people are.
MJ: You once wrote that you admired singer Dusty Springfield for staying quiet about her sexuality because she “gave herself the right to enjoy being a lesbian in private.” Do you sometimes wish you'd been more coy about your sexuality?
RW: I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish that at all. If I had had more of a strategic attitude towards how to reveal my sexuality, and if I’d even played with it a little more, I could have sold a lot more albums and been a lot more famous. But I personally don’t have the ability to lie about my life, for better or for worse.
MJ: What advice did your parents give you about becoming a musician, and how is that different from the advice you’d give your younger family members who are pursuing musical careers?
RW: My parents always gave the best advice, and that is, “There’s nothing worse than a third-rate folk singer.” [Laughs.] And it’s true. They both were extremely critical, extremely opinionated, and not at all willing to coddle us, all three of us, in terms of our art. And if and when I have children, I plan to continue that tradition of no-nonsense criticism. Even if it’s wrong.
Rufus Wainwright on his new album, his "Jesus year," and partying with Barbara Bush.
— By Peter Meredith
DonateNewsletterComments | Post CommentMon May. 14, 2007 12:00 AM PDT
Singer Rufus Wainwright's cabaret sensibility, classical influences, and foppish charm have made him a darling of baroque pop. Starting with his 1998 debut album, he crafted an instantly recognizable sound mixing orchestral arrangements and wryly self-deprecating lyrics.
His latest album, Release the Stars, stays true to the formula. In "Sanssouci," Wainwright sings an ode to the "boys that made me lose my blues and then my eyesight," a winking reference to the crystal meth addiction that left him temporarily blind in 2003.
Advertise on MotherJones.com
The album marks Wainwright's first foray into explicitly political songwriting. On the second track, he sings "I'm so tired of America," the blunt lyrics contrasting with his usual ornate musical arrangement. He spoke to Mother Jones from New York.
Mother Jones: Why are you "so tired of America?"
Rufus Wainwright: The reason the song is so explicit and so direct is that we are at a point where it’s painfully obvious that America has failed in the war, the environment, and a whole list of things. We’re dealing with the end of an empire, and the consequences of that. It’s just a fact that both Democrats and Republicans are grappling with. It’s a sad song. I don’t think it’s malicious. It’s more of a broken-hearted ballad about how we’re all basically devastated about the state of affairs.
MJ: Your parents [folk singers Loudon Wainwright III and Kate McGarrigle] established their careers in the ‘60s. How are your political songs different from their generation's political songs?
RW: I’ve certainly held back for many years in that arena, whereas for my parents’ generation, that was a whole genre and a whole way to sell records. [Laughs.] So it’s been much more measured. And I also have to say that in my time, we are dealing with a much more sinister media and an entertainment industry that is willing to cut off your voice. It’s definitely important that we make these sorts of statements, because not a lot of people are.
MJ: You once wrote that you admired singer Dusty Springfield for staying quiet about her sexuality because she “gave herself the right to enjoy being a lesbian in private.” Do you sometimes wish you'd been more coy about your sexuality?
RW: I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish that at all. If I had had more of a strategic attitude towards how to reveal my sexuality, and if I’d even played with it a little more, I could have sold a lot more albums and been a lot more famous. But I personally don’t have the ability to lie about my life, for better or for worse.
MJ: What advice did your parents give you about becoming a musician, and how is that different from the advice you’d give your younger family members who are pursuing musical careers?
RW: My parents always gave the best advice, and that is, “There’s nothing worse than a third-rate folk singer.” [Laughs.] And it’s true. They both were extremely critical, extremely opinionated, and not at all willing to coddle us, all three of us, in terms of our art. And if and when I have children, I plan to continue that tradition of no-nonsense criticism. Even if it’s wrong.
