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About 90 minutes into the show, standing in a long black coat in front of a huge, satin broken heart festooned with daggers, while a man in a werewolf's costume in the audience rounded up "volunteers," Elvis 'Costello paused.
"This is a little unusual," he admitted. "Maybe I should explain."
It's April Fool's night and the rambling Keaney Gym at the University of Rhode Island in Kingston, R.I., was one of the inaugural stops in the tour by the performer who dresses as a jester on his new album, identifying himself, oddly, as "The Beloved Entertainer."
Costello's last U.S. tour three years ago required the same amount of explanation.
In each stop, he'd play three shows: the first as solo, acoustic Declan Patrick MacManus; the second with the Attractions, with whom he recorded most of his 14 albums; and the third with the band and the Spectacular Spinning Songbook, a wheel of fortune with song titles on it — you spin, they'll play the song.
The heart, dagger and werewolf served as this year's model of that game show approach for his current low-key college tour.
Coeds chose a dagger on which there was a deadly sin — "Lust," for example, or those he had added to the original seven sins; "Awesomeness" was one, "Quayle" another.
Then the coeds would get to request a song. Predictably, they chose "Alison," "Red Shoes" and "Pump It Up."
It might be depressing that, for all the marvelous work he has produced in 12 years, these early songs are still the only guaranteed requests.
But except for this bit of last-minute, game-show tomfoolery, he had spent most of the evening spellbinding the capacity crowd of 4,200 alone with his acoustic guitar, in front of a fanciful set of buildings, trash cans and oversized figures.
He started with the traditional, "Oh, I just don't know where to begin..." from "Accidents will Happen," during which an accident did happen — Section 13 of the bleachers collapsed without any apparent injury.
Breaking a string during the next song, "Lovable," was a good sign, he said. "I usually don't break a string until the fifth song."
Throughout, Costello, 34, was affable and entertaining, a far cry from the icy, angry young punk of yore.
He had funny tales to tell, first during "The Big Light," regarding Johnny Cash's version of it, and then during "God's Comic," in which he sets the scene of heaven as a big white waiting room, with God lying on a waterbed filled with tropical fish.
It was one of five songs he performed from the new Spike; each took on a new life performed live with the imaginative, stripped-down, single-guitar arrangements, which put even more emphasis on his powerful voice.
"Let Him Dangle" was a strong indictment of capital punishment that led to a singalong; "Veronica" and "This Town" were driving hits; "Pads, Paws and Claws" rocking and soaring.
He was generous with not only his own oldies, but tidbits from all over the pop map. "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away" emerged out of "New Amsterdam." "Blood and Chocolate," with its Bo Diddley beat, easily turned into "Not Fade Away." The splendid "Radio Sweetheart" turned into a triumphant version of Van Morrison's "Jackie Wilson Said." Dylan's "Tangled Up In Blue" surfaced during "King of America." A verse of "I Say a Little Prayer" emerged in a long, riveting version of "I Want You."
With opening act Nick Lowe, who also was his longtime producer, Costello brought back a song by "another guy named Elvis." But neither "His Latest Flame" nor the half-time version of "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding" had any special magic, despite the harmonies and extra guitar.
Lowe's own short set, in which he accompanied himself on electric guitar and, in one case, electric bass, was sprightly and welcome, however.
Costello himself didn't pick up the electric guitar until the final werewolf-induced request, "Pump It Up" (alas, a grand piano on stage went unused all evening).
Then, to a gratingly industrial drum track, he spat out the lyrics of his song, as well as Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" — and churned up a weird, feedback-laden guitar solo that paused enough to include a snatch of "I Feel Pretty."
With the noise, the weird set and the specter of the enduring figure with oversized glasses, the solo acoustic evening suddenly sounded like some guy's performance art project.
It was, as he admitted earlier, a little unusual. By now, though, we expect no less from the beloved entertainer.
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