Two Lucky

Concert review

Before I begin to address my newfound commitment to searching for inner peace, let me first pontificate on another aspect of this journey, one which I’ve started to think will be a valuable by-product of finding said peace: one’s inner fabulousness.

Last night, at the generosity and encouragement of Renee, Tami and Caroline, all good friends I met in college, I, along with what must have been half of gay New York, went to see Rufus Wainwright in concert at Central Park. The weather was dismal. It was one of those grey, wet New York days, the kind of day New Yorkers have learned the best thing to do is to just stay home, put on good bad TV and order in Chinese.

I was skeptical all evening. After two rather bland opening acts, Rufus was an hour late and I was losing my patience. So were the other hundreds of people who had risked their better judgment and had been waiting in the park even before the girls and I got there.

Umbrellas dripped on shoulders and already wet heads. Necks were strained; more and more people were lighting up. New York was not happy. Tami and I entertained ourselves with a quick trip to the food stand (the rain is a surprisingly tasty condiment to french fries - it adds to it a certain fresh, organic je ne sais quoi) but even that didn’t help.

We were all collectively getting progressively soggier. “Rufus had better ramp (Or did I hear tramp?) it up tonight for us,” I heard a man wail behind me. Even his voice sounded wet.

And right then, the magic began.

I’m happy to report that in the next two and a half sublime hours, Rufus exceeded all our expectations. He ramped and he tramped like he was the last Queen of New York. He was so fabulous he might as well have added his name next to the word in the dictionary.

The handsome waif kicked off the show with a colorful striped suit (”The whole band is dressed in stripes; it’s an homage to ‘Ah-ma-ree-ka,’” he slurred) and – after four costume changes - ended in drag with a tight black jacket, netted stockings, earrings, lipstick and heels a la Judy Garland.

He wooed the crowd with his characteristic offbeat humor (”I like the rain… it’s great… it means… basically… at some point we’ll all have something to drink…”) and disarming charm (”You guys have been great… You’ve been such troopers… Actually so have I,”) but most of all, he won everyone with his voice – that pining, reaching-for-the-galaxy quality of it – that so many of us have come to recognize as the sound of our hearts’ own soulful yearnings.

His fans were treated to familiar favorites such as “Beautiful Child,” “The Art Teacher,” and “14th Street.” Then, Rufus channeled Judy with “Foggy Day” and “Come On, Get Happy.”

Halfway through his repertoire of 21 songs, the rain changed. It took on a romantic, almost cinematic atmosphere, drawing Central Park into the stage itself and transforming the concert into an incredibly organic experience. I was thoroughly wet at this point, but I no longer cared.

I could smell the trees, feel the grass beneath my feet. The wind carried his voice into my ear; I cried, and the rain washed away my tears. I felt broken but renewed; sad and happy.

Throughout it all, I couldn’t help but think of Rusty. I searched in my memory for the feel of his arm around the small of my back. I wondered if he could hear what I was hearing, feel what I was feeling. I couldn’t help but think of his face, and I was surprised to see him smiling.

Then, I felt arms close around me from behind. In the rain, my girls – Renee, Tami and Caroline – and me hugged and swayed with Rufus’ voice and Rusty’s smile.

When the concert ended, I went home and had a thought: Finding one’s sense of inner peace may not be that different from releasing one’s inner fabulousness.

It’s about finding balance within your internal life, and then applying that balance to your life on the outside. That application is confident, secure and unapologetic, since its expression is the end result of a cohesive, harmonious internal agreement with oneself.

That is why I am going to devote my emotional time to finding inner peace. I need it so that I can begin to accept Rusty’s death; to hold that truth in my hands, and to let it go. I want to stop running. I want to face the world with a new, balanced sense of self. Even when at times that self may be dolled up in lipstick and heels.

This entry was posted on Monday, August 20th, 2007 at 4:25 pm and is filed under New York. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.