Want One - Rufus Wainwright
After hearing his rendition of Hallelujah, and after Dinner at Eight showed up a few times on Pandora, I decided it was time to buy a Rufus Wainwright album and to start with Want One. I’d be lying if I said a small part of me wasn’t disappointed in the album as a whole, although there were definitely parts I liked about it. Over the years, however, I’ve come to understand how much I missed out on by not appreciating it.
In all the many ways there are to categorize music, by genre or by mood or by what kinds of instruments are involved, whether there are lyrics and whether the lyrics mean anything, one of the most basic distinctions I’ve seen is between “big” and “small” sound. Small sound may (but not necessarily) have few instruments, an intimate feel, and personal lyrics about feelings or relationships - evocative of a small cafe where someone sits in a corner strumming a guitar and crooning about lost love, or a living room where your guest picks out a tune on an upright piano. Big sound is more characteristic of large groups playing in arenas or concert halls, big productions and themes that are less personal. Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody is big sound, as is every classical symphony. Tori Amos’s Yes Anastasia is small sound, as is Moonlight Sonata.
Obviously there’s a great deal in the middle of these two extremes; it’s a broad spectrum. And notably, individual musicians can produce works anywhere along that spectrum, although some may favor one end or the other overall. When my experience of Rufus Wainwright was from the songs Hallelujah and Dinner at Eight, which are both very small, I was not sure what to make of an album full of songs with very big sound - orchestral accompaniment, choirs of backup singers, and grand bombastic deliveries - but lyrics that were much more evocative of intimate, personal themes. I just wasn’t sure how to appreciate it at first. Now, I think I do. The mix of big and small sound gives the album a lot of texture and an outlet for extremes of emotion that aren’t quite accessible in music that is only small.
Today, it is the biggest songs on the album that are my favorites, including Beautiful Child, which I went so far as to feature on the playlist of music I put on at my wedding this past fall. The outpouring of hope, joy, and overwhelming beauty in that song could only ever be captured with a chaos of blaring trumpets, jangling percussion, and about a million other voices united in coordinated disarray.
When I have finally found the room filled with toys
be banging on my crib excited by noise
Oh, how I’ll feel like a beautiful child
such a beautiful child again
Next: Want Two
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