[10] Rufus Wainwright, ‘I Don’t Know What It Is’

Rufus Wainwright

One day, Junior and her sister will have haphazard hitmaking careers of their own, keeping me in Earl Grey and cheeky Hoegaarden four-packs into my dotage. Perhaps one of them will even have the courtesy to pen a ‘Bloody Motherf***ing A**hole’ paean to their dear old Pops, to bring a tear to a wrinkly peeper. O happy day, eh?

Martha’s already a big noise around here, so Junior was intrigued to hear bruv in action. She practised saying his name – “Woofus” – and paused after the Gay Messiah’s final crescendo to rate the song “Lovely”. It is as well. As ornate, grandiose, heart-swelling and gaudy as anything on Want One, it makes me bellow along in the car like an octave-battering diva on wheels. Woofus is on a hunt for himself and I’ve no idea if he ever did turn up, but the search is a thrill.

Chugging along:

3 thoughts on “[10] Rufus Wainwright, ‘I Don’t Know What It Is’

  1. I bought this album, on the recommendation of a mate I bumped into in HMV. And I hated it. Hated, hated, hated it. Sounded like a really camped up, cheesy Andrew Lloyd Webber best of.

    So why do i like this now?

  2. You might be right.

    I think if I was to list the worst CDs I’ve bought in my time, that one would only be topped by “Bulletproof Wallets” by Ghostface Killah.

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