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When Elvis Costello's last album of original compositions, Trust, was released, he made a surprise and surprising appearance on Tom Snyder's late late-night talk show. Previous to Elvis' visit, Tom had John Lyndon as a guest, and he was perhaps wary that Costello might be as confrontive and ill-tempered as the former Sex Pistol.
Instead, he was presented with a chap of considerable charm, wordplay witty in that wonderful English way of Noel Coward and John Lennon. Costello told Snyder that his reputation as an angry young man was highly exaggerated, and that his favorite songwriters were Cole Porter and Jerome Kern. Delighted but confused, Snyder arched his famous brow and asked Elvis if he had "matured."
"Ugh, I hate that word," said Costello. "It sounds like cheese."
Publicly, the Peter Pan stance is the only one allowable for the young rocker. But if Costello really had an objection against the maturation process, he would never have written, much less allowed the release of, his new album, Imperial Bedroom. If anything, it is certainly the most mature and sophisticated LP to emerge from the new music movement.
What I would like to say is that it is adult rock music, but unfortunately the term adult has been appropriated by radio stations who mistakenly apply it to everything from Kenny Rogers to Foreigner. They use it as a synonym for gutless or unchallenging. This is everything Imperial Bedroom isn't. This record is dense and complicated and there's nothing wrong with that.
Imperial Bedroom is also a very soulful record, although that's not to say it's a directly personal one. Like Paul Simon or Pete Townshend, his only equals among contemporary songwriters (with Chris Difford and Glenn Tilbrook closing in fast), Costello speaks from his heart. Unlike those two, he's rarely, if ever, confessional. He prefers to tell his tale in more oblique, and thereby more poetic, language. If he sometimes gets carried away with metaphor or description of detail well, so did Kern and Porter.
On previous records, Costello's lyrics have often been lost in the thrilling din created by his band, the Attractions, and the pop and party production by Nick Lowe. That problem is eliminated this time out by Geoff Emerick's clean production style which places the vocals right up front and the decision to include a lyric sheet for the first time ever. Still, Costello couldn't resist making it difficult. The words to every song run on unfettered by punctuation or pause between songs.
But once one finds his place, he'll find the effort most worthwhile. Side two's opener, "The Loved Ones," begins thus:
"Don't get smart or sarcastic
He snaps back just like elastic
Spare us the theatrics and the verbal gymnastics
We break wise guys just like matchsticks
What would the loved ones say?"
As you can see, Costello is still tilling the same territory, the fierce, frightening yet undeniably desirable emotionalism of relationships. Imperial Bedroom expands the battleground only to encompass the warring of family and friends as well as the man versus woman variety. Since he long ago abandoned the paranoid misanthrope vision of his early records (Trust in particular turned his piercing gaze on himself), Imperial Bedroom is like one of those movies in which we view the action from the perspective of all of the participants.
That's not to say we're lacking for bile, as witnessed by this observation from "Man Out of Time" which is ironically the most melodically catchy song on the record:
There's a tuppenny ha'penny millionaire
Looking for a fourpenny one
With a tight grip on the short hairs
Of the public imagination
He's got a mind like a sewer and a heart like a fridge
He stands to be insulted and he pays for the privilege
The only trap Costello has to fight to avoid here is the one of being so caught up in the wordgames, so enraptured by his own ease at turning the phrase, that the words become showy, ornamental. On Imperial Bedroom he wraps the language around the substance of the songs the way silver paper envelops a valuable gift. He is now quite comfortable with, and comprehending of, his ability, thank you, and the songs here exude the confidence of a craftsman.
All these words about words shouldn't mislead one into thinking the Attractions have a back seat or a diminished role on Imperial Bedroom. In fact, they play a more important role than ever before, required to produce more sophisticated music without diluting its rock and roll tradition or spirit. Steve Nieve has been called on here to produce orchestrations for a number of compositions — his "Penny Lane" brass section redux on "...And in Every Home" is near perfect — and while he obviously worked with Costello and Emerick to find complimentary shadings, he in particular shows previously untapped talent. As for the rhythm section of (Pete) Thomas and (Bruce) Thomas, they're as good as they've ever been, which is plenty.
And let's not forget the singer. All of this would be nothing without a voice that could put it over, make us believe it, make us care. Costello's singing improves with every record. He even made some of the minor league songs on his country excursion, Almost Blue, bearable. On Imperial Bedroom he gets a better deal: He gets to sing the words of pop music's most brilliant composer. What a life.
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