|
Linda Ronstadt owns the most powerful, vibrant voice in modern popular music. Elvis Costello is the most exciting, innovative composer to join the genre in the last two years.
Ms. Ronstadt is beautiful, vivacious and attracted to politicians. Costello looks like a prime candidate to fill the late Wally Cox's shoes should television ever revive Mr. Peepers, and, judging from his lyrics, he couldn't get a date with Rose Marie on a slow week.
Hence, the two aren't likely to be seen nuzzling each other in a dark corner at Chasen's, but there's no reason for them to remain strangers musically.
Ms. Ronstadt hinted at her interest in Costello's work on Living In The USA, when she recorded his ballad "Alison," a song selection which rankled some of the singer's more fanatical followers, who want her to stick to her winning formula of mixing. oldies with the most croonable offerings from the chic clique of California songwriters like Warren Zevon, Karla Bonoff, J.D. Souther, et al.
A large segment of the sprawling Ronstadt cult may in fact be very turned off by Mad Love, Ms. Ronstadt's courageous and surprising new album, which features three Costello tunes and four other compositions culled irom the raw, hard-edged rock and roll movement known as New Wave.
Mad Love may put an end to the Lindamania that drives young men to such foolhardy gestures as trying to swim raging rivers to prove what desperadoes they are. Perhaps that's for the best. On the other hand, the album should win Ms. Ronstadt the respect of doubters, who may have veiwed the last few albums as a sign that she and producer Peter Asher were going to rest on their laurels and watch the residuals roll in.
Costello and composer Mark Goldenberg of The Cretones are the two songwriters who dominate the album. Each man has three songs of the total 10. The remaining four cuts include Billy Steinberg's rollicking New Wave howler "How Do I Make You," Neil Young's plodding "Look Out For My Love" (rather boring in such energetic company) and two fine oldies, probably included as a sop to diehard Lindaphiles, but charming nonetheless.
The seven New Wave numbers find Ronstadt affecting a mock-teenage style, even forcing a slight nasal whine into her usually flawless singing in order to suggest the powerfully adolescent, plaintive qualities of such Phil Spector-1960s female vocalists as the Crystals and the Ronettes. Ms. Ronstadt even alters her diction, dropping the "t" from the ends of certain words, giving her enunciation an offhand, punk quality.
Unfortunately, she is not always able to sustain the mix of adenoidal ululations and her customary vibrancy, but the effort is mostly successful. The overall effect is that of homage to the roots of rock and roll explosive, counter-cultural music for the young and disenfranchised.
"Party Girl," Costello's sultry ballad, gives Ms. Ronstadt the forum for some of the best singing of her career, including the keening, melancholy wails at the end, laced with the shuddering vibrations of a high school crying jag.
Ms. Ronstadt's voice crackles with energy on Goldenberg's "Justine," a tragic tale of sadomasochism, and the same composer's "Mad Love" is a melody she can't resist tearing up with the rip-roaring style she used on "Heat Wave."
The oldies are a nice relief from all the exuberance and intensity of the New Wave material. "I Can't Let Go," an old Hollies hit, includes a bouncy chorus, where Ms. Ronstadt sings a catchy counterpoint passage with herself. Better than her version of "Ooh, Baby, Baby" is her husky rendition of Little Anthony and the Imperials' "Hurt so Bad."
Nicolette Larson and Rosemary Butler provide heavy harmony on several cuts, as do Andrew Gold and Kenny Edwards on "Justine." Goldenberg and Dan Dugmore handle most of the guitar chores professionally, if not interestingly. Asher is guilty once or twice of letting the jackhammer instrumentation submerge Ms. Ronstadt's voice, which, after all, is his and her meal ticket.
Mad Love (the album) outclasses Ms. Ronstadt's recent work. She and Asher have traveled a rougher road than most fans expected, and they have emerged dusty but utterly triumphant. More importantly, Ms. Ronstadt has enterprisingly and generously lent her talent and prestige to new composers who would not reach the rock mainstream otherwise. She may also succeed in transforming the attitudes of some of her listeners who have chosen in recent years to sacrifice snap and crackle in favor of pop.
Speaking of generosity, Costello and producer Nick Lowe have set an example that should shame the rest of the record industry by putting 20 full-length songs on one piece of plastic for Costello's new Get Happy album. Costello and Lowe emptied their technological bag of tricks to shoe-horn all that sound onto one LP, and record company executives are probably tearing out their tinted hair over it. The Big Lie, you see, has always been that an album that played for longer than about 16 minutes would start to sound a little bit tinny near the end.
Costello has always sounded a little bit tinny, so it hardly makes any difference. Despite his decision to fill Get Happy to the brim instead of spreading the material out over two albums, it seems unlikely that many other artists will be allowed to follow suit.
The songs on the album run the gamut from straight-ahead 1960s, you-broke-mah-heart rockers to breathtakingly complex melodies filled with chromatic oddities.
As always, Costello spills puns and metaphors all over his music the way Jackson Pollack spilled paint.
In "New Amsterdam," his deadpan refrain runs "til I have the possession of everything she touches / 'til I step on the brake to get out of her clutches / 'til I speak double-Dutch to a real double duchess."
In "Possession," he complains, "You lack lust; you're so lackluster / Is that all the strength that you can muster?"
"B Movie" contains the most complex music on the album. The vocal, a wandering melody filled with accidentals (about as accidental as Rosemary Woods' footwork) spills out over a bouncy bass line producing a surrealistic West Indian sound — like Bob Marley on mescaline.
Most of the time, Costello capriciously couches his sardonic and introspective lyrics in the familiar musical terms of the '60s. "King Horse" starts out like a Buckinghams oldie and blossoms into tricky time signatures and a cryptic lyric.
Costello seems unpersuaded by his success or his cleverness. He continues to indict himself, but some of the charges have changed. On "Temptation," he seems to wonder how his new found fame will change his artistry ("now that you're shackled up to the rigmarole").
Because of the abundance of material, the album requires frequent listenings and careful attention to derive full enjoyment. "New Amsterdam" is the most winning cut the first few times around, but "King Horse" begins to take hold after a while.
The instrumentation is simple. Punchy drumming, rapid bass patterns and calliope-style organ predominate. Costello's guitar work is average and is used sparingly.
The album cover is amateurish and does not agree with the label about which side is Side One. There is no lyric sheet, which makes careful listening all the more crucial.
Costello does not compromise. He has not altered his musical style to make it more palatable to a mass audience. He does not seem interested in acquiring casual admirers.
Maybe Ms. Ronstadt's efforts will attract new listeners to Costello, as she has done for Bonoff, Zevon and Souther (to name only a few). If not, Costello probably will not suffer. Too much appreciation would only tend to make him happy, and he doesn't seem comfortable with that prospect.
| 
