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Vice Blog

ALBUM OF THE DECADE?

[Note: This review solely reflects the opinion of the GianCarlo. We still maintain that Rufus and his ridiculous adult-contempo garbagemusic are the gay, French-Canadian equivalent of David Gray--Ed]
I'm going to step out on a limb here and try to offer up something that may be a little mainstream for all you bottom-feeders. Can we set aside the Cerebral Ballzy and Japanther for a second and talk about an actual musician? Like someone who can write music down on paper and just wrote and composed an opera? No?! Man, you're being punk for such an unpunk reason. I mean, how much more DIY can you get than actually knowing how to read and write music and composing songs using all 88 keys rather than the same three chords over and over and over? (I gotcha with that, didn't I?) Good, now listen. All Days Are Nights: Songs For Lulu by Rufus Wainwright is the best thing I've heard in probably something like forever. Rufus' plan from the beginning, I believe, was to do for opera and classical music what Steely Dan did for jazz. What did Steely Dan do for jazz? They made it appeal to millions of dumb pop-soaked ears, that's what. And that ain't easy. It's like someone figuring out how to teach you math through porn.

I loved Rufus' first couple of albums. Poses and the Want duo were true beacons of hope for the return of hyper-intelligent music, but Release the Stars kind of dipped into a yawn. That's what I thought when I first heard it. "Please let him just be yawning with this album," I thought, "and the next thing he releases is going to blast out of the gates." I can't blame Rufus too much for this. I think I heard he was stunned by new love while writing and recording that one (and we all know how distracting new love can be). I am happy to say that he got over all that and started remembering pain. So, I've kind of been waiting for this one with my fingers crossed. And, Christ, did he deliver. The only instruments on the album are one piano (which he shreds to pieces) and Rufus' throat, and it includes three songs in sonnet form. One song is in French and is the ONLY throwaway on there, but only because I can't fully judge it. The music behind Les Feux D'Artifice T'appellent is pretty beautiful and it was a brave move on Wainwright's part, just too brave for these American ears. OK, let's stop staring at the size of Rufus' balls for a second and talk about the label that put this album out. Who in the fuck just threw their job to the wind in order to release this shit? I would love to shake their hand. Art must be brave (and must have brave money behind it) and that is all I can think of when listening to this album. "Now this is brave." I also keep thinking, "This is what it takes, doesn't it? Yes, yes. This is exactly what it takes." Thank you, Rufus.

GIANCARLO DITRAPANO