When I’m Alone I Count Myself

Whoa ho ho last night a person who I will not name to protect their innocence and their reputation took me to see Rufus Wainwright. Do you know who that is? I did not. What I heard was, “Evening out with fun friend, ok.” Holy shit. It became much, much, much more than that, unfortunately.

At the door there was a sign that said something to the effect of “Rufus Wainwright asks that you do not clap during the first act.” We were told again at the door by some poor ticket-scanning man who had to keep a straight face. “Mr. Rufus asks…” Okay, I don’t think he called him Mr. Rufus, but I like the way that sounds.

When it was time for Mr. Rufus to start, the auditorium went dark. An employee of the theater took to the stage to remind us to STFU for the third time, “Including as Mr. Rufus enters and leaves the stage, as that is part of the song cycle.” We were told that there would be some art happening behind Mr. Rufus as he played, which was part of the show.

Mr. Rufus ENTERED, stage left. What was this, two heads? No, some kind of elaborate ruffle-goiter thing behind his head and a…was that a cape? flowing behind? All the stage needed now was a candelabra and some bats to count. Was the cape still going on? Did it even enter the stage fully? The cape was so frilly and wow, it was kind of like Edward and Bella fused into one body or something. A couple of small spots were dramatically trained on Mr. Rufus as he sat at the piano and began.

The screen started up behind him, with his playing. It was eyeballs. Actually, it was one eyeball, a grey eye that opened and closed slowly and was gobbed with makeup. Sometimes there were lots, sometimes just one, just like Whack-a-Mole. After the first song people began wooting and clapping, and then stopped abruptly. Mr. Rufus asks that you refrain from making any noise, ok.

The lyrics–I dunno, I tried to follow them, I really did. Sometimes they seemed to not be in English, or in any other language really. Mr. Rufus didn’t seem to have much of a range, he just kept droning on and on very soulfully about something. At one point when things got especially cacophonous, I felt little headaches develop and kind of crackle around across the front of my forehead, which has never ever happened before. An actual music-induced headache.

Finally after an hour or four, he stopped playing. Whack-an-Eye stopped. He rose DRAMATICALLY and begin lurching out the way he came, like Nosferatu, possibly treading on his neverending cape. Finally, once he left the stage, people began whooping and clapping wildly.

“Are people buying this?” I asked my friend.

We fled and I offered to buy drinks, since I put the kibosh on things. As we left there was a man leaving whose front was completely covered in vomit. We took a picture of the sign on the way out.