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Rufus
Wainwright: Want
Are you sick of artists that sound like Pete Yorn and Elliot Smith, whose melodramatic tales of the city keep you depressed at a rate where you can barely function on a normal level? You're not? Oh, so you probably already have the new Rufus Wainwright and there is no need to go on then, is there? Well, for the rest of the population who hasn't gotten around to picking up this record yet, it's not going to take a lot of convincing to point out that this is a deliciously crafted masterpiece of fourteen witty odes and ballads (I can never tell the difference between the two, neither should you). The first song puts questioning, though not questionable, lyrics to the classic Gershwin song that us troglodytes only know as the tune to some airline's commercial. Indeed, listening to this album puts anyone at a loss for words. You have not heard anything as perfect as this since Elton John and Billy Joel were in their prime, in a time when they still had a connection with the real world and were not just icons. In time, this will probably happen to Wainwright too, but until it does we have a singer-songwriter who is as inspiring as Radiohead and as poignant as Tom Waits. Enough with the comparisons, you don't really need anymore to know that this is the album that will make your life complete. It's not that songs like "Vicious World" and "Harvester Of Hearts" are songs that any given piano-lounge crooner could create; it's that they are found alongside pop gems such as "I Don't know What It Is" and "Movies of Myself" that are as much fun as they are pensive and self-reflective. The generation before this one had Burton Cummings and Gordon Lightfoot, and the kids today have Thom Yorke and Rufus Wainwright.
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