Author: Jeff Tabaco

On Wednesday night we had a great time at the Rufus Wainwright concert, at the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco. Here are some recollections of moments from the show, which I’ve mostly cross-posted on the Rufus message board.

Teddy Thompson opened, and I loved every song from his set. It’s very heartbreak country. I can’t wait for his new album, Upfront & Down Low, which he said will be released in July.

Rufus looked and sounded great, though I do have to say the sound in the hall was kind of muddled, even more so than you expect for live, amplified music. I’ve heard the new album, and of course the recorded tracks are polished and sparkling.

He said that when he heard he was playing the Palace of Fine Arts, he thought it would be some “outdoor, Isadora Duncan kind of thing” (heh, which is, yes, perfect for the historic outdoor structure; and Duncan, as he noted, was in fact from San Francisco), but concerts are held inside the auditorium, which is nondescript, but still a nice, somewhat intimate venue.

At another point he said it was good to be in San Francisco, the bastion of liberal America, and home to Nancy Pelosi, whom he wants to be the mother of his children. And then he quickly added that he wasn’t going to have any, then. Heh. He also said he liked her teeth.

Rufus and Teddy sang “One Man Guy,” and then Teddy joined the others to do backup vocals for “Gay Messiah.” After the first couple of lines, Rufus stopped the whole thing, looked at Teddy, and deadpanned, “Wait a minute, you’re not wearing a brooch.” He cracked himself up and said, “You cannot sing ‘Gay Messiah’ without a brooch on. I’m sorry.” Ha! (Rufus and all the band members, looking very Gatsby as the Chronicle notes, had been wearing brooches.) And so one of the guitarists — I forget his name, forgive me — gave him one, which Teddy pinned on his own lapel. Whew, brooch crisis averted!

[Update: Apparently someone caught the moment on video:]

Later in the song, just before the “baptized in cum” line, Rufus, with what seemed to me like half-mock and half-serious worry, shouted, “Aaaah, there’s a child right there!” And indeed there was a boy in the front row, center. When he got to the line, he sang “baptized in …” without saying the word. (But I guess now someone has to explain it to the kid!)

So those are just a few of the moments. It was great seeing some of my old-school message board peeps: Susan, Kesha, Betsy, and Richard! I was looking at my list of Rufus shows I’ve attended (this is the sixteenth), and I think the last time I saw most of these folks was when he played Muncie in 2002!

Here’s the set list, as best I could take notes in the dark. Most of the songs are from the new album, Release the Stars (out May 15); others are from the Want albums. He also sang two songs from his Judy Garland concert and one Irish song, which his mother (Kate McGarrigle) insisted he sing, especially since he had the horn section and all to back him up; he introduced it by saying he was getting in touch with his “sad, Celtic side.” Ha, love him.

Release the Stars
Going to a Town
Sanssouci
Rules and Regulations
Tulsa
The Art Teacher
Tiergarten
Leaving for Paris No. 2
Between My Legs

Harvester of Hearts
Do I Disappoint You?
A Foggy Day in London Town
If Love Were All
Nobody’s off the Hook
Beautiful Child
Not Ready To Love
Slideshow
Macushla
14th Street

I Don’t Know What It Is
Pretty Things
One Man Guy
Gay Messiah

After the show, I looked at my notes and forgot what the first song of the encore was. When I finally remembered, it triggered a sort of Abbott and Costello dialogue in my head. “What was that song I missed?” “‘I Don’t Know What It Is.'” “Yeah, I don’t know what it is either.” And so forth.

See also: Getty Images has some photos from San Francisco concert, and there’s great review in today’s Chronicle.

Last week I bought tickets to Avenue Q, which is coming to San Francisco in August. (We also saw Altar Boyz here last month; we’ve seen both shows previously in New York.) Speaking of theater, I recently got the sheet music books for Big River and Altar Boyz and have been playing some of the songs when I visit my mom’s house. I really need to get a digital piano for our own place. Aside: the other day my mom gave away the Hammond Piper II organ that we’ve had since I was a kid; I should find and scan an appropriately corny photo of young me playing it.

On Monday, after double- and triple-checking my taxes both online and on paper (and by paper I really mean fill-in PDFs and calculator), I finally filed my returns. Part-year taxes can be such a pain. Having done them a few times over the last few years, I know of what I speak. I guess I can just be thankful that I have relatively simple returns. Thom, let’s never move out of state again. Kidding. Sort of. Not really.

Thom has a new iPod. I can barely contain my seething jealousy. Well, it’s a kind of mock jealousy. Actually I hardly use my iPod anymore; ever since I started working from home, I listen to my music directly from my computer. Thom has a longer commute than he did in Arlington, so he uses his iPod in the car, especially to listen to podcasts. Speaking of podcasts, I should mention that Thom, who works at UCSF as you might know, is the voice of their Science Café podcast. If I ever miss hearing his voice, I can just fire up iTunes and listen to him talk about scientific research. Heh.

This Sunday, Forbidden Island, the tiki bar in Alameda, is having its first anniversary party, and then that evening we’re going bowling at Sea Bowl in Pacifica. Last month I bowled for the first time in over ten years, and to my immense surprise I didn’t completely suck! Have a good weekend, folks.

Two weeks ’till we leave for the Philippines!

My modest collection of 1950s travel ephemera continues to grow, and the most recent acquisition is a treasure-trove of TWA items: notecards, labels, route maps, inflight guides, and the pièce de résistance, a sixteen-page brochure glorifying the then-new Boeing 707. It’s full of illustrations of the spacious onboard lounges, multi-course meals, gleaming powder rooms, and so forth that make a plane ride look like an upscale social event. Another glass of champagne? Don’t mind if I do! Cin cin!

More scans are in my retro travel set on Flickr. By the way, I recently came across this clip from a 1960 TWA promotional film. The music is so over the top. And thus I love it.

It’s Easter and once again time to dust off David Sedaris’s great story, “Jesus Shaves.” You can check out the audio at the This American Life website (it aired on a Christmas episode several years ago; click “Full Episode,” wait for most of the file to load, and then jump to about 47 minutes into it).

“Part of the problem had to do with grammar. Simple nouns such as cross and resurrection were beyond our grasp, let alone such complicated reflexive verbs as to give of yourself your own begotten son.” Classic.

By the way, This American Life has finally redesigned its website (to coincide with the new Showtime show, I presume ). Goodbye, frames!

I saw this Verizon Wireless V CAST commercial on TV a while back and have been waiting for it to show up on YouTube. Apparently I need to start hanging out at the dog park:

Heh. Not that I’d be any more likely to be at the gym. By the way I also came across a pretty good spoof. Give me back my phone!

We had a rainy Monday (and you know rainy days and Mondays always get me down) and a windy Tuesday, but today was just right: sunny and brisk. I hadn’t been out of the house all day, so by mid-afternoon I was feeling a little cabin feverish. I decided to take a little break and drove the few miles north to Ocean Beach. These are some photos I took with my new-ish camera phone, which given enough light seems to take decent shots:

This second one reminds me of those Corona commercials. Seriously, I could use a beer!

In Thursday’s Times there’s a cute essay by Henry Alford on moving in together: “Welcome to My World, O My Beloved. Don’t Bring Your Stuff.” (Juliette Borda’s illustration is pretty cute, too.) The piece begins,

With age I widen, and not just bodily. Recently, despite the fact that I’ve never lived with a romantic partner before, a surge of affection — affection underscored by 44 years of on-and-off loneliness — led me to invite my boyfriend, Greg, to move into my 800-square-foot Greenwich Village apartment.

To honor the occasion, I proposed that we take a page from the playbook of Joan Crawford, who replaced all the toilet seats in her home after each of her marriages. At Bed Bath & Beyond one Thursday night, I told Greg, “Let’s pick the bath towel that’s going to represent the Greg Years.”

After Greg nixed a variety of Wamsutta offerings — terming them “not nice enough for our symbolic relationship towels” — and I clucked in disapproval at some slightly wanton Nicole Miller numbers with sparkly silver threads in them, we finally bought some fluffy white Lenox towels, 70 percent cotton and 30 percent bamboo. The Greg Years: Fluffy, White and Threaded With Bamboo.

Heh. Jeff and Thom, the California Years: Fluffy and Soft Sage with Loops of Zero-Twist Cotton. Thank you, Thomas O’Brien and Target.

I’ve never really gotten into the hobby of collecting things, but my latest kick might just combine enough interests of mine to make it worthwhile. I picked up a few things on eBay recently, which will hopefully be the start of a new mini-collection: 1950s travel ephemera, e.g., magazines, maps, posters, brochures from the jet-set midcentury!

I have two American Airlines inflight guides from 1952 and 1954. We take flying for granted today, but from reading these guides, it strikes you that back then commercial flying was still pretty new. In exhaustive (and almost humorous) detail, they explain everything from cabin comforts and “Flagship” service to basic aerodynamics to airline personnel.

The opening paragraph from the section “Happy to Serve You”: “Aladdin with his lamp had nothing on you with your ‘call button’. One rub and Aladdin summoned a genie to serve him. One touch of the call button overhead will bring a stewardess to serve you. Attractive and able, she has but one purpose on this flight: to make your journey pleasant. You won’t have to use the bell often because she will usually anticipate your needs.”

That’s right, fellas, your own genie. Just try that schtik today.

I also got a few issues of a travel magazine called Holiday. I have three from the early 1950s (one of which has an article on Guadalcanal by James Michener, and another article on Bali and Bangkok with drawings by Al Hirschfeld), and one from 1961 (the April issue is devoted to San Francisco, and even has restaurant reviews by Herb Caen). A great thing about these magazines are the ads: the fabulous illustrations, and ad copy so emphatic you can just hear that sing-songy announcer-type voice while you read it.

I love how the illustrations just beg for snarky captions, like in that TWA ad. Flustered with Junior’s over-excitement on his first flight, Mother grits her teeth: “Stop pulling on Mommy’s glove… dear.” To Father: “So help me, there better be a gin rickey onboard with my name on it.”

When I find the time I’ll scan more ads and add to my 1950s set on Flickr. Neato!