|
From the word go, this album's a grabber. You need look no further than the cover, where the face of Elvis, rock's reigning poet laureate, is plastered within Warner Brother's famous insignia a la Porky Pig, underneath a mischievous black and white court jester paint job. A golden plaque underneath identifies him simply as "The Beloved Entertainer." As always, Elvis' biting sense of humor is generously on tap.
But as those who follow Costello's activities know, this is his first outing in over two years, since he amazingly churned out two excellent records within 8 months time in 1986, King of America and Blood and Chocolate.
In the interval, he has switched labels (due to what he saw as Columbia's "burying" of his albums), taken to the road with his famous "Wheel of Fortune" concert approach in 1987, written some songs with Paul McCartney in hopes of rejuvenating the ex-Beatle's floundering career, and moved to Ireland after years of being fed up with the English "attitude." So where has this hectic hiatic haitus left him? With as diverse and ambitious a musical collection as he's ever concocted.
Spike actually taps into the vein Costello started to explore on King of America, his only previous LP recorded without his band the Attractions. Because of this freedom from a band,the disk's hallmark is its musical experimentation. About half of Spike's 15 tunes (Elvis always gives you your money's worth of songs) are spare, sparsely arranged ballads with some gorgeous acoustic guitar reminiscent of King of America's finest moments. The standout of these is "Baby Plays Around," written by Costello's new wife, Cait O'Riordan, in a matter of minutes. This modest, haunting love song says it all in two of its lines: "She walks those shiny streets / I walk the worn-out floor." Elvis embellishes a few of the other mellow songs with some nice touches of traditional Irish music, like the moody low whistle, Uileann pipes, and fiddle on "Tramp the Dirt Down" and the melancholy pipes, Irish harp, and tiompan on "Any King's Shilling."
Another innovation is the "guest-itis" Costello seems to have of late, as rockers as diverse as McCartney, Chrissie Hynde of the Pretenders, Benmont Tench, Roger McGuinn of the Byrds, and T-Bone Burnett all surface on a number of tunes. Elvis also recorded a few tracks in New Orleans, where h e rounded up the Dirty Dozen Brass Band to add an extra touch. That is exactly what they've done, as "Chewing Gum" is the funkiest thing Costello's ever done and "Stalin Malone" is his first foray into an instrumental jazz piece. But the brass band shines brightest on "Deep Dark Truthful Mirror," the album's gem and one of Elvis' all-time greats. Pianist Allen Toussaint pounds the ivories with unsurpassed personality, and Costello wraps an impassioned vocal around cutting lyrics absolutely worthy of the tune's terrific title.
"Veronica" and "Pads, Paws and Claws" are two products of Elvis' recent songwriting collaboration with Paul McCartney and come off surprisingly well. Marked by McCartney's usual infectious hooks, they have just enough of Costello's wicked irony to give them some complementary bite. Sort of like the mix of personalities in the Lennon-McCartney partnership.
A handful of songs spotlight a harder-edged Elvis than we've heard since his breakthrough albums of the late '70s. The results here are mixed. "Let Him Dangle" and "Coal-Train Robberies" are rough and fun, with strong melodies to support them. This isn't true of "Chewing Gum" and Miss Macbeth," which at times border on bothersome noisiness and threaten to get lost in their wilderness of instruments.
But as in all Elvis Costello albums, the bottom line is the lyrics. This is the man who had the balls to sing, "What's so funny 'bout peace, love and understanding?" What we really want to know is what he has to say. Here Elvis is markedly less self-fixated than of late. He recently spoke of Spike to Musician magazine: "There's more storytelling... I turn the binoculars around. On other records I've been poking at myself... well, this is what I'm thinking about when I'm not thinking about 'What happened to me.'"
Spike certainly offers a smorgasbord of subjects "out there" to tackle: "Satellite" is a nasty look at the voyeuristic extremes of the satellite TV age; "Any King's Shilling" is a tale handed down from his grandfather; "God's Comic" is a portrait of a drunk priest; "Veronica" shows an old person's rambling return into the comfort of the past. The disk also offers some of Costello's first political commentaries in almost five years. "Let Him Dangle" is an indictment of the death penalty wrapped up in the story of a 1952 murder trial, and "Tramp the Dirt Down" pulls out all the political guns: "When England was the whore of the world / Margaret was her madam."
Best of all, Spike is chock full of those classic Elvis one-liners: "Oh yes I was a comical priest / With a joke for the flock and a hand up your fleece;" "Just like a schoolboy, who's head's like a tin-can, / Filled up with dreams and then poured down the drain;" "Now they both know what it's like inside a pornographer's trousers."
Though here and there it misses a beat, Spike outstrips 99% of the rest of what the music industry has to offer us in head, heart, and funny-bone. After 12 years as one of the most prolific songwriters on the scene, Elvis Costello is still trying new things. He's one of the few "rock artists" left who's still worthy of both halves of that title.
| 
