Rufus Wainwright, a self-proclaimed "shoe made for the city," struck my heart strings early on. At fourteen, before I knew he was gay, I imagined he was singing all of his songs to me (maybe I still do, so what). Rufus is Rufus, no getting around it. A flamboyent, playful lyricist and romantic idealist, he is a constant reminder that beauty is everywhere. I can't pick just one of his songs. Cigarettes & Chocolate Milk is a lovely song about excess and Barcelona is a slow ballad that carries me to Spain. I'm writing this post like a cheeseball, but I don't think Rufus would approve any other way. He also did a tribute, or rather re-enactment, of Judy Garland's entire performance at Carnegie Hall in 1961.
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