Rufus redux: queer troubadour Rufus Wainwright sounds off on rehab, the media, and the death of gay diversity.

In 2003 sensitive, dramatic songwriter Rufus Wainwright hit bottom, went to rehab, and spoke to The New York Times about his stint in what he called a "gay hell." Postrehab life is treating the musician well: His latest album, the rich and orchestral Want Two, came out in late 2004 to an avalanche of critical acclaim. The Advocate caught up with Wainwright in New York over calamari and coffee on the eve of his three-month European tour.

How are you today, Rufus?

I just got back from touring in Australia, and the return jet lag is incredible. I woke up at 5 this morning, and I was so tired I started practically bawling. It seems like the more successful you get, the harder you work. It's the nature of fame and celebrity in our age.

What do you think accounts for the success you've experienced?

I recently got an incredible publicist in Europe. But overall, I just toured all the time. Also, I became a bit of a social maverick--living with Sean Lennon in L.A., hanging out with a lot of famous people, and trying to get into the society pages.

You made a concerted effort to get into the society pages?

Oh, all the time. It's a necessary game to play if you want to get to the next level. I saw how what's lauded is that which is notorious, so I behaved accordingly: I did a lot of drugs with a lot of people, went to a lot of parties and had a great time, and subsequently paid the price.

Is it true that Elton John got you into rehab?

He's who I called when I experienced my final breakdown. I'd been up for five days, and over a period of time I'd lost 20 pounds. I was at the end of my rope, and when I crashed I actually went blind for a few hours. That's when I realized that I needed help. I thought of Elton John because I knew him and I knew that he'd been through a similar situation, so I called him up. He called me back and said, "You've got to go to rehab." I went the next day.

How did you and Elton know each other?

He used to be a fan of my dad's [folksinger Loudon Wainwright III] in the '70s. He actually had a crush on my dad. He'd fly helicopters to my dad's shows. Elton keeps tabs on people; he's a very powerful, somewhat omniscient character who knows what's happening with quite possibly everybody. He's a good big brother--or big sister.

You've been very open about your struggles with drugs, and also about being gay. Did yon ever consider keeping quiet about your sexuality?

No. Before I got signed to DreamWorks, the first thing I said was, "I just want you to know that I'm gay, and in no way am I going to pretend that I'm not. I write songs about men, and I intend to get laid and to use my artistry to enable that." [Laughs] I do think that if I'd hidden it, if there'd been a game plan to fuck with the issue, I would have been more successful. But I'm happy with the decision I made.

What have been some advantages to being out?

I was on the cover of The Advocate when my first album came out, and the cover of Out magazine. [But] I think that the majority of the gay press is quite bad and misleading to the intellectual and physical health of homosexuals. It betrays the historical legacy of brilliance that once existed in the gay world, of being the true guardians and keepers of intellectual and artistic brilliance. Gay people have upheld high art for years. Now, in the gay male press, there's nowhere for the opera queens, there's nowhere for the faggy snobs. It's all about youth and body image. It's very light reading, you know?

And on the physical health side, there's a total glorification and acceptance of extreme drug use and sexual license. I don't want to seem like a prudish person--I believe that what happens in a person's bedroom is private--but I do believe that the press have to get a little more proactive about the health of our community.

What do you think causes people to resort to such self-destructive habits?

Well, first, it's important for me to say that not everyone does this. When I first came out with that article in The New York Times, I was rightfully criticized for projecting the idea that this happens to every gay man. Some people go through this, and some people don't. But after the AIDS crisis and after 2,000 years of oppression you're going to have frayed nerves. And when a drug like crystal meth is sprinkled on the wound, it really does seem like a miracle cure because it erases any concept of morality. Morality is such a fucked-up issue for homosexuals anyway. There are always those deep-seated questions: Are we really evil? Are we supposed to be in hell right now?

It can be really traumatic. What are some less harmful ways that people can try to heal?

Buy my albums. [Laughs]

No, really.

Buy my albums! It's all in there.

if people listen to your albums, the pain of growing up gay in a homophobic world will be washed away?

Part of it, certainly. Listen to my albums, listen to Antony [and the Johnsons]'s album, read Jean Cocteau, listen to Tchaikovsky.

Tchaikovsky? His music is so full of agony and tragedy.

But that's the reality of the situation. That's where gay people are in society. To pretend that it's anything other than agony and that the rest of the world is like New York, that's unrealistic. In a weird way, I've always found all that sadness really empowering. It relates much more to the true state of humanity, which I think is pretty agonizing, but in a beautiful way.

Are you dating anybody?

I'm dating a few people; I haven't quite put up the sold sign yet, shall we say. But after I had an opportunity to put my house in order, there have been a lot of offers. Things are good.

So you're not lonely anymore?

No, not at the moment. I'm still writing very lonely songs, though. That's just the nature of music. I bet Tchaikovsky was really happy and just liked sad music.

Marcus writes about music for Time Out New York and is political editor at Heeb.