The art teacher
Ok, so I am completely and utterly obsessed with the Rufus Wainwright album, Want Two. It is the sort of recording that is so perfect, so heartwrenchingly insightful, so melodically compelling that I could listen to it over and over again and still not get sick of it. Believe me, I’ve tried. For there is nothing I would like more right now than to banish this symbol of musical genius to the cellar. But alas I am condemned to play it for eternity. Or at least until each and every word has ingrained … no, no … impaled itself into my consciousness. Whichever comes first. Soon the subtle chord changes will be as familiar as the very act of breathing; the rich harmonies as worn as the headset through which I channel them. Ah, what a voice! It tremors and cracks ever so slightly, then tremors some more – never losing pitch nor breath. It is defiant, tragic, resonant and full of emotion. It is truly an instrument in itself. Yes, indeed, his minor key refrain strikes a chord deep within, making this album one for the ages. And quite possibly beyond.