COSTELLO PASSIONATELY RETURNS TO PUNK PAST

by Steve Dollar
Pop Music Critic

Concert Review: Elvis Costello and the Attractions, Chastain Park
	Amphitheatre, Atlanta, Georgia

The Verdict: Elvis Costello magically revisits his glory days --
	unfortunately it's at Chastain Park

Elvis Costello and the Attractions belong in the patheon of
groups whose particular chemistry could define an attitude and
an era, however mercurial or marked for flame-out.  Like Miles 
Davis's seminal '50s ensemble with John Coltrane, or Bob Dylan 
with the Band, it's a combustible union of wills that made
a certain, special sound -- much imitated and hard to rekindle.

Costello, the prolific British songwriter whose persona has 
evolved consistently since he emerged from the punk explosion of 
the late 1970s, isn't known for staying put.  Though his songs 
continually work through densely knotted themes of obsession, 
romance and its discontents, and tangled personal and political
agendas, each successive album seems to reach in a different 
direction.

So it was a little surprising to see Costello revisiting his
glory days Sunday night at Chastain Park Amphitheatre.  The two-
hour show was the last stop on an American tour that reunited 
the singer with his erstwhile Attractions:  Steve Nieve on 
keyboards, Bruce Thomas on bass and Pete Thomas on drums, the 
only band member with whom Costello routinely records.

There was a new album, 'Brutal Youth' (Warner Bros.), to promote,
with its batch of twisty tunes spun around chilling psychosexual 
narratiuves, and music that could be complex and ornate one minute,  
dizzyingly off-kilter the next.

But because the musicians also have a sizable back catalog
(reissued on Rykodisc), much of the set list was drawn from
Costello's first few albums, the ones that once sounded like 
the product  of a highly literate sociopath's lost weekend.

If this meant unavoidable nostalgia, at least Costello's passion
wasn't faked.  The show wasn't about challenges, just a chance
to knock some great songs around.  And as long as a listener could 
revel in the musicanship, or the odd vocal curveball (a veersion of
'Tracks of My Tears' in the  middle of 'Alison' for instance),
that was enough.

Nieve, especially, was a phenomenal treat.  His playing veered like
an out-of-control carnival ride, swollen with regal grandeur on a
ballad such as 'Party Girl' (from 'Armed Forces'), spitting nails
on adrenalized numbers such as 'Pump It Up' and 'No Action'.  He 
could make Beatlesque melodies shimmer like a music box, or slam 
home an organ riff with garage-rock abandon.

Unfortunately for anyone not in the foremost rows, much of this was 
hard to appreciate.  A singer like Costello, who relies so wholly 
on lyrics and nuance, can be lost on an outdoor venue like Chastain 
Park, where audiences chatter loudly throughout the show and the 
band's amplification isn't loud enough to combat the conversation.

The situation improved during the second half of the concert, but
the damage had been done.  Next time, Elvis, try the Fox.  Or 
crank it up.