last night i went to see the supremely fabulous rufus wainwright at bush empire. it was prolly one of the best gigs i've ever been to. if i complained about the ticket price, before, i apoogise, it was worth every penny: he played for at least 2 hours, there were 3 costume changes, he stopped a song halfway through to ask where the duchess of devonshire (aka debo mitford) lives (it's chatsworth) - he dedicated the same song to her, having said that he was going for an elvis look because he was her favourite popstar. and finally admited that all he wanted was to be a mitford girl.
the incredible thing was how funny he was... maybe i was spoilt by british bands in my teens who would just about acknowlege the audience with a "cheers" at the end of every song. rufus was a proper showman. he told us all about how he feels london is his real home, and he made a slightly ludicrous joke about how the gay messiah would be at popstarz that night, when it got little or no response he said "wow it's a really straight audience in tonight", followed with a somewhat pained sounding cry of "i wish i was straight".
his live sound is astonishingly close to what appears on the records, admittedly he has a largeish band (bigger than magnetic fields, but smaller than belle and sebastian), and plays the guitar and piano himself. but - i suppose because he has a fair amount of credibility already, and doesn't feel that indie-band thing of needing to 'prove himself as a serious artist' - he was able to have a lot of fun with things: half way through little sister, as he played a repetitive break on the piano he turned to the audience and said "easy and beautiful", before laughing at himself for saying it (he'd compared himself to mozart in the preamble to the song). his song dedicated to jeff buckley segued into halleluljah, and then into across the universe. he played a section of songs he'd written about his family ("this is the family section, it's very popular"). he stripped to a spangly thong, worn with a ripped vest, knee high socks, red heels and fairy wings for god's sake.
last week (ish), there was a post on no rock and roll fun which talked of a time "before rufus and conor were the boys who made the boys wish they were boys who did boys". it's true, but he forgot to mention that they also make the girls wish they were boys who did boys. i'm not convinced that the manics on tuesday will compare.
i'm currently reading koren zailckas smashed, which is a book about a girl my age who became an alcohol abuser (she draws a distinction between alcoholism and alcohol abuse). there will eventually be a review in the new exciting relaunced rebranded 52 book challenge (coming soon), but this has to do with a brief theme in the first chapter, in which the author writes that she remembers very few "firsts" clearly - her first day of school, her first kiss, first driving lesson, first period - but remembers her first 'drink' with a cinematic clarity.
as i read this, i was thinking, no i'm exactly the opposite: i remember all of those things almost painfully clearly (well, not the driving lesson - although i do remember sitting in my cousin's mini in his garage and getting to put my foot on the accelerator... hmm that sounds slightly dangerous actually...) i could give you the exact date and time of my first period (30-1-94 at 6.45, halfway through the simpsons); i remember my first kiss (and my second and my third), but wild horses wouldn't drag the story out of me (though i've been known to tell it after a few glasses of wine); i remember the first boy i wanted to kiss, and i'm still secretly in love with the first girl i wanted to kiss; i remember details from the night i lost my virginity with the same cinematic clarity koren zailckas reserves for alcohol - david bowie on the stereo, the ice storm on the telly, fried chicken and the electricity running out at some point in the night, so that when we woke up it was dark (we were in a basement), in fact i'm reserving that scene for my first novel!
i do not, however, remember the first time i had a drink. at easter, my aunt pointed out that as a baby i liked to suck on champagne corks... visiting my other aunt in italy in - oh - 1989, i had my first taste of gin and tonic (and liked it)... i was slipping sips of my parents' spirits from the trolley in our living room when i was still in primary school...
one of the points of this weblog was to supplement my slightly dodgy memory. it occurs to me that there may be more to this memory thing than just writing things down.
