CD Review, 1989-05-01
by Carlo Wolff
Review of Spike

Performance: 9
Sound: 10

Pay the price of attention and enter Elvis Costello's Magic Theater, a
dazzling display of musical and political styles united by a simultaneously
bitter and compassionate point of view.

At first, _Spike_ seems schizophrenic. But the key is its diversity, which
spans the rich pop of "Veronica" (a collaboration with Paul McCartney and,
with odd resonance, kind of an update of "Eleanor Rigby"); the cosmic
rockabilly of "Pads, Paws, and Claws" (the other McCartney collaboration);
the bluesy "God's Comic"; and the teary, naked "Baby Plays Around."

There's a pastoral feeling to several tunes, especially the more overtly
political ones, such as "Tramp the Dirt Down" (a sad, angry blast at Margaret
Thatcher's Britain) and the almost unbearably wistful "Last Boat Leaving,"
which gives _Spike_ a nostalgic, despairing note.

For the most part, Costello shelves the dazzling wordplay that marked some of
his best albums (especially _This Year's Model_ and _Armed Forces_) in favor
of straightforward storytelling. "Chewing Gum," one of several cuts about
dashed expectations and deceit, is a jagged, obscure jump song. The nervy,
CD-only "Coal-Train Robberies" features a Third World news flash of
constantly shifting viewpoint. It's sandwiched between the lovely
Irish-uprising memoir "Any King's Shilling" and "Last Boat Leaving"--songs of
similar tempo and attitude--and gives this organic-sounding CD more vitality
than the vinyl version.

The songs build upon one another, each one giving the preceding depth and
drama. "This Town" launches a bitter attack at entrepreneurs. Its dominant
images are those of the piano man as leper, of the Babbitt whose poverty is
his stigma, of the "Fish-Finger King" who lives on "Self-Made Man Row."
"This Town" packs the punch of "Pump It Up," but it's wise without being
wisecracking.

For the rich, funky "Deep Dark Truthful Mirror," Costello and his wife,
former Pogue Cait O'Riordan, traveled to New Orleans to enlist the Dirty
Dozen Brass Band and legendary pianist Allen Toussiant. The latter applies
precise, churchy filigree to this devotional love song about the consequences
of deceit. The production is reverential without being musty, and
Toussaint's piano sounds positively fruity.

The pivotal points, however, are "Miss Macbeth," an acid portrayal of an old,
witchy woman; the dreamy, ambiguous "Satellite"; and the forked "Stalin
Malone." "Miss Macbeth" evokes _Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_ in
its psychedelic vaudeville and its evocation of childhood haunts and imagery,
while "Satellite" again discloses Costello's fascination with imagery and
electronics. (Note how "Miss Macbeth" vamps on Costello's real name, Declan
MacManus).

"Stalin Malone" is an instrumental on the disc, but Costello has provided
lyrics on the insert. Packed with horns and percussion, it's swinging and
jovial, and might have been written by Hollywood chartmaster Shorty Rogers in
the late '50s. The phantasmagoric lyrics suggest an all-knowing Big Brother
whose time is about to come.

_Spike_ is a unified work about exploration, about looking at a world grown
disturbing and alienating. Costello has reclaimed his eminence as rock's
best reporter, one of the premier documentarians of a universe that goads,
saddens, and amuses him.


Mighty Like a Rose (reviewed by David Okamoto, 8/91)

Performance: 8
Sound: 7

Even before the '70s were over, Elvis Costello already had outlasted most of
his new wave peers and started his stunning evolution from an angry young
punk into one of the most thoughtful and important songwriters of our time.
 It's that same distinction that makes it easy for fans to expect each new
album to elevate this prolific British star to greater artistic heights. But
after the remarkably fruitful '80s--which found Costello releasing 10 albums
in 10 years, including such ambitious landmarks as _Imperial Bedroom_, _King
of America_, and _Spike_--even he had to be wondering what he would do for an
encore.

So on his 14th American album, the intriguing _Mighty Like a Rose_, Costello
winds up taking stock more than taking chances. All of the compositions are
new, yet many recall the moods and melodies of earlier songs, as if he
decided to go back and reexamine ideas that he might have only sideswiped
during his zealous genre-hopping exercises of the past. Even the line-up of
musical cohorts found here--including Paul McCartney, bassist Nick Lowe,
drummer Pete Thomas, guitarists Marc Ribot and James Burton, and the Dirty
Dozen Brass Band--is culled from associations that span his career.

Costello may be feeling nostalgic at age 35, but he has not lost his sardonic
wit, nor his vitriolic drive. In the chiding "How to Be Dumb"--a riveting
rewrite of _Blood and Chocolate_'s "Next Time Round"--he scowls at
self-serving motives and their self-destructive consequences ("Trapped in the
House of the Perpetual Sucker/Where bitterness always ends so pitifully/You
always had to dress up your envy/In some half-remembered philosophy").
 "Invasion Hit Parade" describes a vacuous world ruled by political
corruption and greed that offers "no salvation of regrets...just non-stop
Disco Tex & the Sex-o-lettes" (a hilarious reference to a campy '70s disco
act fronted by Monte Rock III).

The younger Costello might have continued in that ragin vein for an entire
album, but the mature Costello has learned to channel his contempt into
stirring, often deceptively chipper vignettes. With its cascading chorus and
Beach Boys-like harmonies, "The Other Side of Summer" could easily pass for a
surfing anthem--until you realize that he is singing about forest fires
instead of suntans, polluted oceans instead of crashing waves. He applies
the same ironic twist to the poignant, painful tales of failed and foiled
romance in "Georgie and Her Rival," "Harpies Bizarre," and "Couldn't Call It
Unexpected."

Two new collaborations with McCartney are disappointing compared to such
previous triumphs as "Veronica" and "My Brave Face": "Playboy to a Man" is a
raucous throwaway piloted by a screeching, almost undecipherable vocal, and
the syrupy "So Like Candy" threatens to belabor its too-obvious metaphor.
 The latter song, however, is rescued by Costello's earnest singing and holds
up to the other, surprisingly numerous ballads on this CD, which also include
the Celtic-flavored "All Grown Up," the powerful "After the Fall," and the
depressing "Broken" (written by wife Cait O'Riordan).

Although I'd gladly trade "Hurry Down Doomsday" (a cacaphonous knockoff of
1986's "Tokyo Storm Warning") or the whiny "Sweet Pear" for more examples of
his pure pop genius (like his own version of "You Bowed Down," the song he
wrote for Roger McGuinn's _Back From Rio_), _Mighty Like a Rose_ finds
Costello's mindset as thorny as ever--and his artistry in full bloom.