Famous parents, drug addictions and being raped in his teenage years have failed to drag Rufus Wainwright into the rock'n'roll abyss. Soon to play songs from his fifth album in Dublin, he tells Tony Clayton-Leaabout his bad behaviour, survival instinct - and how Judy Garland helped him find his voice
MUCH as we're loathe to appeal to the baser instincts of people who like to stereotype their pop and rock stars, it behoves us to report that The Ticket is talking to Rufus Wainwright in a pink tent. The tent is so faaaaabulous, gaaaarish and incredibly piiiiiinnnnkk that even Rufus seems initially taken aback by it. Outside the tent, the baying hordes of Oxegen are milling this way and that, summery/dirty versions of the kind of people not normally seen outside the likes of 28 Weeks Later.
Inside, all is relatively calm; Rufus is dressed in a dapper suit. He is one of rock's smartest and classiest, an openly gay man, the owner of a knowing wink and the creator of some of the most operatically inclined pop music of the past five years. He is firm in the belief that his music must be of some purpose, that it should form the basis of change, that it should engage, inspire and influence.
"That's the object of this silly game," he says, relaxing into an easy chair, moving his sunglasses over his forehead, making eye contact. "You want to transcend, transform. Transfer funds, even!
"What happened with me is that - because my parents were both in the business and there was always a stage nearby - I immediately became aware of the fact that when I did have an audience, be it in front of a mirror, or propped up on the piano singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow, there was this immediate effect where I did, in a way, transform the audience in the room. I was conscious of that at a very young age, and the power of that.
"Humans find where their power is and go with it. I was lucky because I was young. It's a long road, because you really do have to come to terms with whatever power you have over many years. It's totally sensible and forgivable in your early 20s to tell the world to fuck off and be a rock star and abuse your surroundings, revel in the excess of it all.
"But there is a time limit to that, and then you have to realise that there is a distinction between life and art. They may mirror each other, but they are two separate entities, and no matter how many songs you write or how many records you sell it's not going to fix any of your personal problems. So you have to separate those two, and wait to see what happens."
Wainwright has been through this waiting period and come out the other side relatively intact. There was a time in the early Noughties when it looked as if he wouldn't. These were the days of nights spent imbibing illegal substances (everything from hash and coke to magic mushrooms, acid, ecstasy and crystal meth) and indulging in sexual fantasies.
Being raped as a young teenager in London's Hyde Park undoubtedly left scars, which may have accounted for the singer's wild and reckless lifestyle. He has been clean and sober for a few years ("my behaviour started to disgust me") and now regards his imaginary glass as being half full of life's little joys.
"I definitely enjoy moroseness and revel in sad, romantic sensibilities," he admits. "But, that said, I do think there is always a silver lining in my work and attitude. It's always about hope, I think. Most of my songs exhibit that."
The silver lining, he adds half-joking, is not just his creativity but also his destiny.
"I'm a bit of a hippie, or something," he laughs. "I think that music and art are somewhat prophetic - even books you read or movies you see have something to do with your future. There does seem to be a kind of survival mechanism I have at the moment that keeps me going. The reason I say that is that, of my generation, there were artists - Elliott Smith, Jeff Buckley, Kurt Cobain - where in retrospect you listen to their music and hear/feel an intense darkness, which they were enveloped in. I don't think I have that - the darkness, that is - as much as them. So I go with that theory, just to stay bright.
"It's something in the past that I was quite jealous of: oh, why can't I be more kind of self-destructive, or damned? But now I thank my lucky stars I wasn't. I went in for a bit of it, but there is so much more than falling into the abyss.
"When you see it happening, it's quite impressive in a way, but I'm for impressing people in a different way. I'm out to impress people when I'm old and fat and have a beard. Actually, the Wainwright gene can go the plump route - that jolly, huge, football way, so who knows?"
Family remains important in Wainwright's life. Although he began his career under the shadow of his parents, Kate McGarrigle and Loudon Wainwright III, he has steadfastly refused to hitch his wagon to their train. Once people might have wanted to talk to him about his parents; now the conversation revolves around him and his sister Martha. (He also has a half-sister, Lucy.)
"I'm still very close to both my parents and my sisters. I have, though, quite recently walked out of an interview because the guy just continued to ask about my family life. I don't mind if people touch on it, but for half an hour that's all he wanted to talk about. So I went to the bathroom and never came back.
"And yet I can't deny that the connection has served me well. I certainly got a lot of coverage when I first started, and whatever it takes to get your foot in the door is whatever it takes. Now, though, I think I've proved myself enough."
Not only does Wainwright have a substantial body of work to his name - five original, distinctive albums - but he has a cute if cathartic sideline of love for Judy Garland to guide him through the dark nights of the soul. Last year, he staged a facsimile of Garland's 1961 valedictory album, Live at Carnegie Hall, at the New York venue and at London's Palladium (which also hosted Garland in her heyday).
The reasoning behind such a show was threefold: one, he regards the songs (a number of which were written in the Depression era and around the first and second World Wars) as sacred texts; two, it gave him an excuse to don stockings, high heels and a dinner jacket; and three, he feels the songs are perfect harmonic accompaniments to his voice.
"In this whole story of my career I've always felt my voice was maligned by certain critics and fans, who come up with lines such as 'the nasal quality' or the 'acquired taste'. So the Garland shows came about, among other things, to put these people at ease. I consider the creative aspects of myself as a three-pronged fork: the singer, the songwriter and the composer/arranger. So I had to appease those elements and bring them together on one project."
Opera is another abiding passion. Wainright has said that to sit through a Wagner opera is one of the greatest experiences humanity has to offer. He is currently writing one (the provisional title is Prima Donna - A Day in the Life of an Opera Singer), and he views the artform as very much a religion or haven from life in general.
"Opera has served me well - going to it, writing it, thinking about it. I think it's because of the way in which the medium has chosen me. I never intended to be an opera fanatic; it wasn't something I tried to do, it just happened one night. One day I hated it, the next it was all I could listen to. It's a like a calling, a vocation, and whether it's drama or just meditation or intensity I don't know. But it's got it all. It's all in there."
The story of his life? "My life, your life, everybody's life. The world, the Ring cycle, here we go!"
The evolution of Rufus
1973Born in Rhinebeck, New York on July 22nd. Father is Loudon Wainwright III, mother is Kate McGarrigle, two highly regarded singer-songwriters.
1975His father includes the song Rufus Is a Titman on his Requited album. Loudon will later realise he made a mistake in the title.
1979Starts playing piano.
1986Tours with his mother in The McGarrigle Sisters and Family, a folk group that also includes his sister, Martha, and his aunt, Anna.
1987While staying in London with his father, he is raped in Hyde Park by a man he meets at a bar. Rufus remains celibate for several years following the incident.
1996After years spent on the Canadian folk circuit, he moves to New York and begins building a following.
1998Rolling Stone magazine reviews his self-titled debut, calling it one of the year's best releases and naming Rufus Best New Artist for that year.
2000Becames addicted to crystal meth, temporarily losing his sight due to overuse. Checks into the Hazelden Foundation, Minnesota.
2003Want One album released.
2004Want Two album released.
2006Performs at New York's Carnegie Hall, where he re-enacts (complete with lipstick, stockings and stilettos the entire Judy Garland concert album that she recorded there in 1961.
2006Composes and records voiceovers for Bloom, which was performed by the Stephen Petronio Dance Company at the Galway Arts Festival.
2007The critically acclaimed Release the Stars is his fifth studio record.
