Rufus Wainwright

This is a record of breathtaking, eccentric opulence: champagne violins and gothic-drama
electronics; cream-cake choirs, Fourth of July brass and Rufus Wainwright's rough-silk
voice, which sounds like a worn, inebriated diva gingerly sweeping down a staircase. It all
could have been twice as fabulous. Wainwright's third album was to be a two-CD set simply
called Want. Thanks to the miserable state of record-selling, it was cut in half; W... More >