Ben Folds, Rufus Wainwright, Guster

It’s impossible to escape politics in Washington, D.C., even miles outside the city limits—even in a leafy national park, even during a rock ’n’ roll show. Nowhere else in America could you expect to see scantily clad female fans waving magic-markered posters that declare, “Guster *heart*’s Campaign Finance Reform.”

Such light-hearted civics lessons were par for the course Tuesday night, as Guster shared the stage with Rufus Wainwright and Ben Folds at the Wolf Trap’s Filene Center in Vienna, Va. By the end of the night, the unlikely tourmates had treated the audience to several wry soliloquies on their perception of the state of the union (“not so hot,” in case you were wondering). Thankfully, they also remembered they were there to make music.

The co-billed acts have been rotating the performance order throughout the month-long tour, and this was Wainwright’s night in the opening slot. The lanky troubadour ambled into the cavernous outdoor amphitheater to scattered applause, the evening sky still light as concertgoers trickled in from picnic dinners on the lawn.

Alternating between sitting at his piano and perching on a stool with a guitar, Wainwright moved gracefully through a set that gave equal time to his older classics (“Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk,” a sly ode to the seduction of overindulgence), recent hits (the operatic “Vibrate,” before which he invoked the spirit of soprano Renee Fleming to help him sustain the final note), and favorite covers (a simple, unadorned version of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” that rivals Jeff Buckley’s rendition).

Wainwright also introduced several new pieces, including the lovely and tremulous “Agnus Dei”—sung entirely in Latin—from the upcoming Want Two. Evidence of a religious conversion? Who knows. While clearly chastened by a recent recovery from his party-boy days, the diva in Wainwright couldn’t resist anchoring his set with a different kind of hymn—a rollicking, innuendo-laced ditty by the name of (paging controversy on line 1!) “Gay Messiah.” Wainwright (or “Rufus the Baptist,” as he dubs himself in the song) couched the number in a political context, urging the audience to get out the vote against anti-gay conservatives, but “Messiah” is more irreverent parody than outraged propaganda.

As the sinking sun began to cast shadows, Wainwright gave the overwhelming impression of someone haunted by the past—his own, as well as those who’ve gone before him. Dressed in black (and fabulous snakeskin shoes) in honor of Johnny Cash, Wainwright demonstrated he knows the value of homage. Along with carefully chosen covers, he wove the influence of great artists into the fabric of his original work without waxing derivative. He prefaced “Want,” for instance, by noting that it mentions “great songwriters like John Lennon, Leonard Cohen and my dad.”

In that song, Wainwright revealed other ghosts that pursue him, insisting he doesn’t want to be any of those men—except for his father, folk musician Loudon Wainwright III. Family, in all its dysfunctional glory and pain, is a fundamental theme for Wainwright, who invited his mother, the legendary Kate McGarrigle, onstage to accompany him for “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” (“I’ve had to sing this song since the age of six,” he said. “Two,” Mom corrected him. “Since the womb,” he shot back.) In the set closer, “Dinner at Eight,” Wainwright admitted that he’s still wrestling with his upbringing. “This is about my dad,” he said bluntly, and went on to croon heartbreaking lyrics:

Why is it so
That I've always been the one who must go
That I've always been the one told to flee
When it fact you were the one long ago
Actually in the drifting white snow
You left me.