Has Rufus Wainwright bookended my pandemic experience, or just presaged another lockdown?

By 28 February 2020, there had been 20 confirmed cases of Covid-19 in the UK. That day, the first British death was announced, of a man aboard the cruise ship Princess Diamond.

My wife and I were driving to Hastings in the afternoon, excited to see the wonderful Rufus Wainwright play with the Royal Philharmonic at the town’s inaugural International Piano Festival. On the way we listened to Radio 2 in the car, hearing the same anxious headlines with every hourly bulletin. The outlook for the world seemed grim.

Some of the early coronavirus cases in this country had been detected around the south coast, among people who had visited China. We felt a slight nervousness as we headed towards the sea, but reassured ourselves that the chances of catching the disease were still miniscule.

The concert was tremendous. Rufus sang and played with his customary brilliance, joking with audience and orchestra alike. Nobody wore masks back then of course, and we forgot our worries for a time, glorying in the music and in the timeless surroundings of Hastings’ White Rock Theatre.

Afterwards, we went to a curry house, managing to beat most of the other concert-goers who had had the same idea, meaning we could bag a table and get our order in. By the time we ate, the place was packed, the mood almost celebratory, with customers at every table seemingly discussing their favourite Rufus moment.

We had decided to stay overnight, a very rare treat, and I had booked us in to a hotel on the seafront – the Zanzibar. Before the gig we’d had a drink in its tiny bar, and that night we fell asleep to sound of the waves crashing outside the window.

The next day, on the way home, we drove through the most extraordinary hailstorm I had ever seen, which left the M25 white and briefly at a near standstill. We listened to more radio news updates, which carried attempts at reassurance by the authorities alongside rising case numbers and deaths in all sorts of places. My wife and I agreed we wouldn’t attend any more events like the one we had just been to, at least for the time being.

Two Fridays ago, we went to see Rufus again, this time in Cambridge – our first gig since Hastings. We arrived at the Corn Exchange venue ahead of time, and the security guy on the door reminded me to put on my mask, at least until I was seated. We bought drinks in the foyer and wondered nervously whether the event would be a sell-out. It wasn’t quite – or at least, not all the seats were filled, but perhaps anxiety had got the better of a few.

Wainwright’s own story is one of coming back from the brink. The son of two musical stars – Loudon Wainwright III and Kate McGarrigle – he descended to the depths of crystal meth addiction in the early 2000s before straightening out in rehab. His musical genius has never wavered, and while some of his songs are brutal in their honest assessment of a topsy-turvy life, there is always a sense of hope, and of humour.

In Cambridge, this time accompanied by just a three-man band, Rufus was again tremendous. He played new songs and old, his remarkable voice soaring. And once more he joked with the audience, even about the pandemic. We didn’t quite forget our Covid worries, and we kept our masks on throughout, but it felt good to be there: almost normal, whatever that means now.

This time we didn’t head out for a meal afterwards, and there was no overnight stay booked. Instead, we drove back to my parents’ house – and our sleeping children – in a village just a few miles away, along roads I had driven a million times in my late teens, passing pubs we had laughed in, cricket grounds I had often played at, and close to the sixth form college where my wife and I had first met.

We talked optimistically about how Rufus had bookended our pandemic. And we tried not to consider the possibility that he was the precursor to another lockdown.

In one of his most famous songs, Wainwright sings “I’m so tired of you, America.” I think we could all say the same about Covid.