Kick out the Jams

Rufus Wainwright at the Hard Rock, Feb. 27

Rufus Wainwright told 600 fans at the Hard Rock Hotel Friday that he was nervous about his first Las Vegas show as a headliner. But you could never detect any anxiety as the 30-year-old musician worked his way through a two-hour set and sprinkled it with an easy wit.

"This song is dedicated to the midget in Zumanity," he quipped, eliciting much laughter. "It's called 'Gay Messiah.' It's going to be very controversial." An unlikely prospect, considering that Wainwright's lush opera-like pieces, Broadway-style sing-alongs, Tin Pan Alley-esque pop and folky singer-songwriter numbers have yet to make a dent on mainstream radio charts. The song's lyrics were provocative, though, prophesying the coming of a homosexual deity who "will be reborn from 1970s porn," and "appear on the sand of Fire Island's shore." "No it will not be me/ Rufus the Baptist I be/ No, I won't be the one/ Baptized in cum."

Clad in white slacks, gray shirt, open black vest and tie, Wainwright resembled the stage manager from Thornton Wilder's Our Town more than any gay god. Except, of course, that Wainwright's feet were sparkling from silver rhinestoned flip-flops, which could very well be the "Queer Eye" version of Jesus sandals.

After opening with Berlioz's aria "L'Absence," he ran the gamut from stunningly spare beauty ("Want" and Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah") to ornate complexity ("Greek Song" and "Beautiful Child"), all without flubbing a single note of his rich vibrato. He was as confident showcasing new work solo on the piano, such as the unrequited teen crush number "Art Teacher," as he was pushing his six-piece band through "Matinee Idol," a German cabaret stomp from his first album.

He dedicated the lush "Go or Go Ahead" to Celine Dion and later doled out advice to a slightly more washed up local lady. "I think Ann-Margret should do this in her new show," he said during his piano solo in "Foolish Love." "This next song features another Vegas personality," he told the crowd of the sultry "Vibrate," which begins, "My phone's on vibrate for you/ Electroclash is karaoke, too/ I try to dance Britney Spears/ I guess I'm getting on in years."

Wainwright and company donned witch hats and capes for the first of two encore sets. "Straight men, look out," he snarled. He explained that the costumed performance required intense training. "That took 20 years of circus school. They picked me up off the street in Bratislava. I was just a midget." When he flubbed the lyrics to one of his last songs, the audience favorite "Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk," he paused for a moment and laughed at himself. "Oh, I fucked up. You won't see that in Zumanity."--Jim Bialek