The Barenaked Ladies are mad as hell—or at least, being polite Canadian gentlemen, they’re rather peeved. “Give it up for anger—it makes us strong!” sings Ed Robertson on the band’s new album, All in Good Time . Having survived a time in their history they describe as “devastating,” Canada’s most playful band is ready to let some darker feelings show.
Rufus Wainwright has had an eventful and painful past year. Last spring in Berlin, he debuted Sonnette, a Shakespeare-based theatrical collaboration with maverick director Robert Wilson. A few months later in Manchester, he premiered his first opera, Prima Donna.
From his music, his videos, and his promotional photos, you’d think that Rufus Wainwright is a Wildean aesthete living in an opulent dream. Fittingly, on a promotional visit to Toronto, the singer, songwriter, and now opera composer, has found seemingly the only hotel suite in the city containing both a grand piano and a chaise lounge. But when he unfolds himself across the latter, his eyes bleary and his hair swept up as if by a rogue gust of wind, he comes across as less of a decadent epicure than a patient waiting to be psychoanalyzed.
“I say the most outrageous things in interviews,” declares John Banville. Like Hermes, the Greek god who narrates his new novel, The Infinities, the celebrated Irish author has quite a mischievous streak.