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The gay messiah is coming

THE GAY MESSIAH IS COMING

A title sure to agitate all the rabid Republican Americans out there who froth and fulminate each time I so much as mention Michael Moore. This time however, I am writing about altogether nobler activist: the divine and talented Rufus Wainwright, angel voiced and human hearted. Gary. Jess and I just flitted down to Shepherds Bush Empire to catch the last concert of his European Tour.

Since I discovered him this summer I’ve been gorging myself on the 3 albums. So great to hear a gay man sing so beautifully about loving men – even when that love is painful. Wainwright is so spot on when mirroring the poignacy of love gone awry. The sweet almost comic desperation that comes when you spend all night waiting for a call is nowhere better distilled than in the lyric : “my phone’s on vibrate for you/ so call me anytime you want”. And the exhausted resignation of “Pretty Things” makes me sigh and sigh:

“From where you are, to where I am now Is its own galaxy Be a star and fall down somewhere next to me”

Ooh, the words are wonderful enough but that combined with fabulous songsmithery and his voice that seems to come from beyond the clouds melts my innards everytime I hear it. Especially when I hear it live. Boy! that boy’s got a pair of tonsils on him.

But what really charmed me was his self assured personality. He’s so gloriously camp at a time when gay culture is atrophying into a dull and brainless Abercrombie & Fitchitated lump. I felt so proud to be a gay man listening to our Rufus up there. Brains and beauty. And when he introduced the song “Gay Messiah” with a pessimistic note of warning about the next 4 years in America, I suddenly realized how right he was to speak out. Like Pastor Niemoller cautioned, if you don’t make your voice heard, soon enough it’ll be too late.

Screw the “Moral” Majority, I want to be his husband and that’s that!

————-

PS: It’s been pointed me out to me in response to this blog that Rufus is Canadian and that, therefore, in certain provinces North of the border, we could get married. Hurra!

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