It doesn’t take a genius to work out that Martha Wainwright is in someway related to Rufus. She is, in fact, his younger sister, and the latest in line to emerge from this obtusely gifted family. Already established as a backing singer in her big brother’s band, the question stood as to whether she has ability to hold her own as a solo act.
With minimal support (bassist Paul Bryan and later, Rufus’s Matt Johnson on drums (ex-Jeff Buckley)) she takes to the vast Dome stage, and manages to sonically fill the venue, armed solely with acoustic guitar and her voice. This is no mean feat when you consider the size of the venue; normally reserved for full bands and orchestras. Like Rufus, she is endowed with a rich, distinctive vocal. Her style is much more unpredictable though: breathy, cracked, almost childlike at times, intermixed with little yelps and yodels, as if she’s paying homage to Cyndi Lauper.
‘Bloody motherfucking asshole’, the title track from her forthcoming EP release shows her aptitude for lyricism, in the Wainwright tradition: ‘I wish I was born a man/ so I could learn how to stand up for myself/ like those guys with guitars/ I’ve been watching in bars/ who've been stamping their feet to a different beat.’
With many of her songs centred on her carefully crafted finger picking (the ‘Suzanne’- esque ‘This Life’, and ‘The year of the dragon’ from her mother’s last album), she shows herself capable of drifting into the realms of jazz. The double bass driven, post-break up lament ‘Don’t forget’ is reminiscent of a ‘Mingus’-era Joni Mitchell.
The crowd show their warm appreciation for Rufus’s little sister, but in truth, she never really leaves the stage, as she reappears after the interval with her brother’s band. Beginning with a typically au fait number, (a French piano interpretation of the damnation of Faust), Wainwright soon ignites the hearts and souls of the Dome with the rousingly upbeat ‘14th Street’ and ‘Movies of myself’.
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At ease in what Wainwright dubs “Britain’s campest town”, one has to question the singer’s attire- green trousers with yellow flares and matching waistcoat- and wonder what Trinny and Susanna would made of it? Rufus’s flamboyance clearly emanates in his performance. Showcasing virtually the whole of 2003’s Want One, he has the confidence to stop and restart songs, using his impeccable charm to veil such imperfections. It’s difficult to find fault with the set. A new tribute written for Wainwright’s idol, Jeff Buckley, is perhaps slightly contrived and meagre in structure, but this is soon forgotten with his excellent rendition of ‘Halleleiujah’ and the general strength of material.
Wainwright’s vocal and musical talents are undeniable, yet homage should be paid to his superb backing band. Lead guitarist Gerry Leonard lends an ethereal touch to prog-rock numbers ‘Go or go ahead’ and ‘Want’, whilst the heavenly backing vocals of Martha and Joan Wasser add to the superb magnitude of the sound.
Rufus encores with a number of classics; the Bolero inspired ‘Oh what a world’, ‘Cigarettes and chocolate milk’ and ‘California’ from the Poses album, the later providing an opportunity to display some of his virtuoso piano skills. The night closes with a fitting duet between the two young Wainwrights, an acoustic take on an early composition, ‘In my arms’, that goes down a treat. On tonight’s performance, Loudon and Kate can think themselves proud.
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