You have to hand it to anyone who has the audacity to dedicate a record solely to themselves, as Wainwright does here. You can only adore someone who manages to deliver a record of such unashamed, florid and ornate beauty.
Like Wainwright’s previous album, the perfect Poses, Want One is a mine of references to sexuality, tragic romanticism of Baudelaire-type persuasions, and the sort of West Coast coffee house aesthetic extolled by songwriters like Aimee Mann. It comes as no surprise to find that the album’s executive producer is none other than Larry Waronker, the man who also counted Elliott Smith among his charges.
The music itself demonstrates a certain fetish for dramatics, putting the listener in mind of such exalted exponents of torch-song theatricality as Mercury Rev and The Divine Comedy. Larger-than-life tracks like ‘Oh What A World’ and ‘Vibrate’ are practically bursting at the seams with ‘musical Broadway’ influence; the type of numbers that come in glorious Technicolor and should be choreographed by Busby Berkeley. On the other hand ‘Pretty Things’ or ‘Go Or Go Ahead’ are gossamer delicate, crystalline gems of pained piano balladry.
It is, of course, the voice that delivers the final blow in the end. Ever the master of tragicomedy, Wainwright performs these songs in the manner of a gin-blossomed, possibly cancer-ridden clown. While his voice is self-controlled and self-assured, Wainwright comes across as no stranger to the far reaches of human frailty and vulnerability.
It’s ever so difficult to improve on near-perfection, yet it seems that the task has been achieved here. Suddenly, the fact that he has dedicated the album to himself makes perfect sense.