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On the 10th album from one of rock 'n' roll's leaders for the past eight years, Elvis Costello continues to swing his lyrical scythe on a softer musical background. And for the first time, the object that ends up the most cut-up is Costello himself.
Costello continues to probe what's wrong with the world and with ourselves. But the sarcasm that drove his first half-dozen offerings and has dissipated since the Trust album 3½ years ago plays its smallest role yet on Goodbye Cruel World.
Costello still takes his shots, but here, he often brings himself into the fray, adding a touch of sympathy to the characters he used to take apart.
Other cuts leave the sly touch so far behind that they positively wax philosophical. In "The Great Unknown," Costello describes the death of a young husband, then adds, "Quick dry the tears and stifle the cheers; As he sinks just like a stone; Footprints set in sentimental cement; Now burden down his bones; Lest we forget; Here lies the Great Unknown"
His music has undergone a similar evolution from sour to soothing. More than half of Goodbye Cruel World's 13 tracks could be heard on Costello's recent tour in which he played an acoustic set without his backup band, the Attractions.
The group's support remains intact, although producers Clive Langer and Alan Winstanley nudge flamboyant keyboardist Steve Nieve into the background. Nieve's presence is more ephemeral and harder to pin down. Fittingly, he is hard to pin down on the jacket's credits as well, having changed his name to Maurice Worm and his function to Random Racket.
Costello has proven with his last few albums that his arrangements can preserve the pop even when they are not driven by frantic bass and drums. Those finger-snapping tunes make an appearance here, led by "Inch By Inch," which conjures up images of Sam Spade with its steamy harmony and sax.
Rock 'n' roll makes its quietest intrusion of any Costello album. Some of the tracks that really move, such as "Room with No Number," seem almost apologetic about their get-up-and-go.
But Goodbye Cruel World's major disappointment is that for wide stretches, Costello seems to have lost his deft style. Always able to turn a musical and lyrical phrase on a dime, Costello here needs a silver dollar in many spots.
He often makes a contrived end-run to bring a song back home. Lines takes too long to get to the point, and often the point isn't worth the time. In "Joe Porterhouse," he sets one unbalanced line against another: "She says it's not his time to go; Why we were nearly lovers years ago; Now what is left for me; Among the broken branches of the family tree."
I don't know what's left for Costello. This album is probably the weakest effort of a sterling career.
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