'Painted': Brushes With Heartache

 By Richard Harrington
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, October 11, 1998; Page G12

Elvis Costello and Burt Bacharach crawl from the emotional wreckage of failed romance on "Painted From Memory" (Mercury). It's a melancholy cycle of heartbreak songs, fueled more by regret than anger, replete with sophisticated melodies and lush arrangements by Bacharach, who also plays piano and conducts the 24-piece orchestra.

 Bacharach hasn't worked with a first-rate lyricist since his early '70s breakup with Hal David; Costello, a pop classicist at heart, responds with smart, sensitive songs and some of his most coolly emotional singing ever. If his vibrato-drenched baritone strains on some of the high notes, it's as much an emotional accommodation as a musical one. After all, Costello wouldn't be the first singer to be challenged navigating a Bacharach melody line.

 Costello's ruminations are those of a man rejected and dejected, haunted by memories of places and events. In "This House Is Empty Now," an update on the classic "A House Is Not a Home," anguish is palpable in the song's elegant, gracefully evolved melody and Costello's resigned vocal as he wonders, "Does the extinguished candle care about the darkness?" His house may be empty, but it's clearly haunted.

 So is the singer who finds solace "In the Darkest Place" ("that's where you'll find me"). In "My Thief" he complains that the ghost of his former lover is breaking into his dreams to disturb his peace. With almost desperate candor, Costello confesses, "I feel almost possessed/ So long as I don't lose this glorious distress/ Then you can take all I have left/ If you can't be my lover/ Be my thief."

 In "The Long Division" there's a clear sense of anger and betrayal when Costello realizes, "If three goes into two . . . there's nothing left over." And in "Toledo," a man knows his partner is suspicious and that when his escalating guilt betrays him, he will not be forgiven.

 The consequences of wrecked relationships are also evident in "Tears at the Birthday Party," in which someone bemoans his former partner celebrating with a new lover, "unwrapping presents that I should have sent." In the title track, Costello acknowledges that it's hard to paint a portrait from memory, particularly since "those eyes I tried to capture/ They're lost to me now forever/ They smile for someone else."

 Not all the songs are as engaging, but almost all feature the classic Bacharach sound: brassy coloration, swooping or swelling strings, supple female backing voices, subtle dynamic shift and Bacharach's easygoing piano.

 Sometimes the sonic touch-ups are wonderfully literal: On "The Sweetest Punch," which details a sudden breakup, bell-like sounds underscore the line "you knocked me out/ It was the sweetest punch . . . I can hear it ringing/ But I didn't see it coming." And in "Such Unlikely Lovers," an uncharacteristically upbeat tune about falling in love, Costello croons, "I'm not saying that there will be violins/ But don't be surprised if they appear." And, of course, they do appear.

 Throughout the album, Costello's vocals are emotionally naked, particularly on the Costello-Bacharach breakthrough project "God Give Me Strength." In the Allison Anders film "Grace of My Heart," it's performed right after the Carole King-like character loses her Brian Wilson-like husband to drugs and madness. With its soaring melody line, and a haunting falsetto in the chorus, it's an inspiring eulogy and a truly memorable song from two master tunesmiths.

 (To hear a free Sound Bite from this album, call Post-Haste at 202-334-9000 and press 8181.)

 For fans eager to collect the composer's disparate efforts, Rhino is about to release "The Look of Love: The Burt Bacharach Collection." This three-CD compilation features 75 tracks spanning Bacharach's lengthy career, from his first hit song in 1957 (Marty Robbins's "The Story of My Life") to "God Give Me Strength." The songs are performed by 36 different artists, most notably Dionne Warwick, who built her career on Bacharach-David songs. In fact, Warwick's breakthrough came via 1962's "Don't Make Me Over" and this set is something of a greatest-hits package for her. She's featured here on 17 tracks, including such chestnuts as "Walk On By," "I Say a Little Prayer," "Anyone Who Had a Heart," "Do You Know the Way to San Jose" and "I'll Never Fall in Love Again."

 Those songs clearly capture the signature Bacharach sound and his pointillistic production: beautifully crafted songs with complex, catchy melodies that wander in unexpected directions; varied rhythms and shifting time signatures; sophisticated harmonies and lush textures; an inherent sense of emotional drama.

 You'd never have guessed those characteristics from such early efforts as the novelty track "The Blob," by those legendary Five Blobs. This 1958 track (written with Hal David's brother, Mack) was typical of the production-line fare emanating from the Brill Building. But you can sense Bacharach's unique melodic sensibility that same year in Perry Como's "Magic Moments" and in the dramatically designed R&B hits he wrote, mostly with lyricist Bob Hilliard, for the Drifters ("Please Stay," "Mexican Divorce"), the Shirelles ("Baby It's You"), Chuck Jackson ("Any Day Now") and Jerry Butler ("Make It Easy on Yourself").

 Other early hits came from the histrionic Gene Pitney ("The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance," "Only Love Can Break a Heart," "Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa"), adenoidal Bobby Vinton ("Blue on Blue"), genteel Jackie DeShannon ("What the World Needs Now Is Love") and blustery Tom Jones ("What's New Pussycat?"). Herb Alpert did well with "This Guy's in Love With You," as did the Carpenters with "(They Long to Be) Close to You" and B.J. Thomas with "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head" (all were No. 1 hits). The Rhino set includes selections from some of Bacharach's mostly instrumental albums -- a bit plodding, unfortunately.

 The Rhino set also underscores the importance of Hal David's lyrics in the music's success. David shares credit on 63 of the 75 tracks; 71 of those 75 tracks were recorded before 1973, when Bacharach and David underwent an acrimonious split. Had they remained together, one suspects this box would have been a lot bigger.

 (To hear a free Sound Bite from this album, call Post-Haste at 202-334-9000 and press 8182.)