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.
3 thoughts on “ Rufus Wainwright, ‘I Don’t Know What It Is’”
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?
Well, I reckon it’s the best track on it. The whole album’s a bit rich for one sitting.
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.