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It's been two long, long years since the last Elvis Costello record, and, happily, Spike is worth the wait. Full of sharp, stinging observations, it's far more exciting than his two 1986 albums, King of America and Blood & Chocolate. In fact, it's his best LP since Imperial Bedroom in 1982.
Spike, his 12th studio album and his debut on a new record label, consists of 14 tuneful songs (15 on the cassette and CD) that range in style from sweeping political diatribes to straightforward torch songs. Recorded without the Attractions, it features guest stars Chrissie Hynde, Benmont Tench, the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Roger McGuinn and Paul McCartney, who co-wrote two of the songs ("Veronica" and "Pads, Paws and Claws"). Given the variety of styles and outside contributions, it's surprising how well the album holds together. It feels as unified as anything Costello's ever done.
Costello, called the king of British New Wave in the early '80s, has proved once again why he is one of rock's most heralded singer-songwriters. His singing is distinctive for its stop-start phrasing and its rough, snotty intensity. And his lyrics are drop-dead incredible: Sometimes coy and obtuse, often twisted and ironic, always compelling.
In his best work, Costello has left plenty of room for interpretation, never one to spell things out too clearly for the listener. He figures we've got a brain, which is more than most pop stars credit us with.
The problem, for some of us, is that Costello's music hasn't always been as thrilling as his words (Blood & Chocolate comes to mind). But the punchy, wide-ranging rock on Spike is a seamless fit with the exceptional lyrics. As a New York Times reviewer put it, "It's hard to imagine either words or music without the other."
"God's Comic" is a gorgeous sing-along that finds the Lord lounging on a water bed, drinking a cola, listening to Andrew Lloyd Webber's Requiem, and saying he liked the one about his son better (Jesus Christ Superstar).
"Chewing Gum" is about an abused mail-order bride ("The nearest she comes to the 'Dynasty' he promised her is a Chinese takeaway"). A strange song called "Satellite" is about a sordid, high-tech affair.
Costello's love songs are getting more straightforward all the time he's turned into a fabulous crooner but, thankfully, he has not lost his bitter, cynical edge. At 34, he is still an angry young man, as evidenced on the new album by yet another ringing attack on his country's prime minister, accused here of betraying the British underclass with her callous economic policies.
"When England was the whore of the world, Margaret was her madam," Costello claims on "Tramp the Dirt Down." He goes on to say that "when they put you in the ground, they'll stand there laughing and tramp the dirt down."
As is usually the case, his aim is true.
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