It was a family affair -- the happy kind. The kind where everyone's a little buzzed, discussions on music and movies are rampant, and you discover your favorite uncle smokes pot, too. Rufus Wainwright performed an intimate solo show, and his half-sister Lucy Wainwright Roche opened in similar fashion, armed only with an acoustic guitar and witty banter.
Lucy warned us that she'd been basically living in her car due to all her travels and that she was subsequently eager to chat. Musicians always have great crazy stories from time spent on tour, and Lucy was no exception. We got the details on how U.S. security threatened to sic the drug dogs on her car at the Canadian border. Homeland Security: protecting America from harmless folk singers. We got another story on how friendly people are in Australia. Apparently, opening the bathroom stall to converse with those at the sink flies when you're Down Under.
The songs were the usual folk singer fare -- some nice melodies and a personal story or two. Her voice was strong and capable but lacked a certain identifying personal style like that of her brother. Still, the family talent was clear in her performance. After the set, she offered to share dirt and sell secrets along with some EPs. Lucy tempted the audience with the following nugget: when they were kids, Rufus made her pretend to be dead so he could sing arias to her. To those who have heard Rufus' music or seen him perform, the revelation proved less than shocking.
Rufus himself maintained a similar rapport with the audience, joking that he likes Albany because, unlike Manhattan, it still has poor people. He kept the talk brief, however, as he had a large repertoire of songs to play, from his self-titled debut to last year's Release the Stars. “Danny Boy,” “This Love Affair,” and “Beauty Mark” quickly confirmed that Rufus' rich, languorous voice is just as impressive live as it is on disc. His stature might be small and slight, but his lungs are those of a giant. Throughout the show, he walked back and forth, switching from piano to acoustic guitar. His first stint on six-string featured “Sanssouci” and “Greek Song.” The crowd clapped and even sang along, with a little prodding, to the first of the two.
The high points came later in the show. During “Nobody's Off the Hook,” Rufus had the entire theater afraid to breathe. The sweeping operatic piece showed off his range as he cooed softly and barely touched the ivory to begin, but later danced his hands along all 88 as his voice built to the song's crescendo -- "'Cause life will take that little heart, and bring you to your knees/ Threatening to break it for the final time/ And you'll believe it, yes, you will believe it." The song took over the room. No one spoke. No one coughed. The pin drop cliché was startlingly appropriate. Stomach gurgles and hard swallows could be heard from those sitting in entirely different sections.
Following that emotional highlight, Rufus lightened things up again, stumbling and joking his way through the danceable “California.” The lyrics may have been botched, but any disappointment vanished when he absolutely crushed the high note on the line "Ain't it a shame." At the song's conclusion, Rufus issued a charming little burp, uncouthly plopping the cherry on top of a bizarre, but memorable version of his “Poses” standout. The yet-to-be-released “Zebulon” followed, with a quick transition into the popular “Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk,” to the crowd's delight.
Lucy joined her brother, singing backup for the encore, as she did sporadically throughout the show. The two tackled Rufus' interpretation of “Hallelujah,” which is quickly becoming the most covered song of all time. Still, Cohen's words are moving no matter who sings them. Rufus even yielded a few lines to Lucy alone, and their harmonizing on the chorus was wonderfully ghostly.
The last song of the show was dedicated to newly crowned Olympic hero Michael Phelps. The crowd erupted in laughter once Rufus revealed it to be "Gay Messiah." "You never know...," he teased. He then altered the lyrics a bit in honor of the aquatic hardbody, changing "Better pray for your sins, 'cause the gay messiah's comin'" to "Better pray 'fore you swim, 'cause the gay messiah's swimming." He may have left the audience questioning why Michael Phelps doesn't have a girlfriend, but no one was questioning that Rufus himself was, naturally, fabulous.
