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A man reading the New York Times right before a concert is telling of what an Elvis Costello show should be like. Except it's Elvis Costello: the man who has gone from an angry British punk, to a man very much in love.
Costello opened his U.S. tour Wednesday at the Florida Theatre, and came out with none of the pomp someone in the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame should command. Instead, he walked on stage, wearing a sleek, black suit, his signature glasses and a beautiful blue tie.
He went into "Accidents Will Happen" — a stripped down, acoustic version of "Accidents Will Happen." Costello is touring with only his guitars and his long-time piano man Steve Nieve. And throughout the night, his classics were given makeovers. Songs like "Man Out of Time," "Watching Detectives" and "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding" became intimate anthems. There was none of the pounding rhythm section on the album cuts.
That's what made the show so chilling. Costello stood there, like he was about to attack the microphone and belted out tune after tune as a singer, instead of as a rebel.
He's known for being snide and slipping in cantankerous notes here and there. But this night he simply sang and the dissonant notes came out naturally, not out of spite.
On stage, he was a peaceful Costello, who went through a collection that spanned his career. He did songs like "Toledo," "45," "Home Truth," "Indoor Fireworks," "You Turned to Me" and he only briefly ventured into songs from his most recent album, North. He did "Someone Took the Words Away," "When It Sings" and "Fallen."
When he sang This House is Empty, he stepped away from the microphone and sang into the crowd.
There's something beautifully ethereal about hearing someone sing without amplification. Those were times when Costello stood alone, when Costello took centerstage.
And no one in the audience flinched; no one, I bet, dared to move. Those are the moments when the silence in between the notes becomes the most important music. It is as though a single movement could snap that moment back into reality, and nobody wants to be the one to do that.
Costello walked to the front of the stage, very much near the edge. And he sang into the air, while Nieve played scattered notes on the piano. Those were heard over the speakers. But Costello's voice — it was a direct hit, a direct connect, with the audience.
Costello was a stark figure under the vibrant white hue of the spotlight. He used to scream. But this night his voice warbled with romantic vibratos that were clear and at points terribly haunting.
He had fun, too. He interjected the Smoky Robinson classic "You've Really Got A Hold On Me" in between "Deep Dark Truthful Mirror." And after coming out on stage for the second encore, he picked up his electric guitar and brought the crowd to its feet singing three of his biggest songs, "Pump It Up," "Watching the Detectives" and "Alison." Perhaps because of the mellow nature of the first three quarters of the show, these songs sounded like rambunctious punk anthems, even if they were only being played with a piano and guitar.
Costello finished the night by singing an obscure bluesy cover, "Dark End of the Street," and again he stepped away from the microphone and sang from the edge of the stage.
It was haunting as he sang "You and me" over and over again, with the hushed chorus of a timid crowd behind him.
In the end, after the houselights had been turned on, the night felt hollow. Maybe it was because we finally had no choice but to disrupt the great moment Costello had created.
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