Declan Patrick Aloysius Macmanus was born In 1954 and raised in a blue-collar section of London. In 1977 he took the name Elvis Costello and released an album called My Aim Is True that catapulted him to the front ranks of the first wave of English punk. By 1980 the first blush of success had faded and the next five years were a period of controversy and trouble. The quality of Costello's music has never been in question; instead, the problem has been what Costello himself dubbed his "mouth almighty."
Costello recently released a new album, King of America. which he hopes will set the record straight. "Though it's not without anger, there's more generosity and love in this record," he explains.
Fuelling himself with mineral water, carrot sticks and cigarettes, he responded to questions with wit and honesty. It's no news to anyone who's followed Costello's music that he's a smart and clever man; what did come as a surprise is that he seems uncommonly happy and light hearted.
What's the most insidious idea currently being peddled by popular culture?
That things will be all right and we'll all be very cosy if we just allow ourselves to be sucked backward into the comfy fireside embrace of Mr. Eisenhower's sitting room. I do a version of an old song called "Eisenhower Blues" on my new album.
Why is originality so highly valued in art?
Is it valued? Who by? Critics are the only people who care about that. Go to the Museum of Modern Art and look at Pablo Picasso's work and tell me that he valued originality. All those people stole loads of stuff. The Dadaists and Surrealists parodied previous forms and used them for their own ends with ruthless abandon. I don't think they cared a damn about originality — perhaps they realized they couldn't help but be original and that's part of what made them great.
How important is a larger-than-life image in making people receptive to music?
It's true that music is easiest to sell with an exaggerated image, but so what? I was considered a more marketable commodity when I first appeared and they had five pictures of me and five opinions of me, but I refused to be a monkey on a stick or be bound by rock 'n' roll ritual.
As far as what my image is now, the writer David Fricke recently made the comment that I'd been "consigned to genius purgatory," which I thought was great. There seems to be this attitude of, "Oh, yeah, we know he's good, but who cares. He's not pretty or anything, so let's watch this other band instead."
What's the biggest obstacle you've overcome in your life?
My own stupidity and selfishness — and I definitely haven't overcome either of them permanently.
How did getting money change your life?
Having money meant that I didn't have to rely on dishonest people to pay me the money they owed me. Consequently, I was less prone toward the physical violence I'd felt driven to when I'd been cheated.
Do you enjoy being famous?
I'm not really a pop star. I'm just a singer, and though you get a degree of celebrity out of that, I don't think I'm particularly famous. There was a time around 1979 when I could've been railroaded into pop stardom, but then my career fell apart due to my being an idiot and an an obnoxious drunk.
People didn't want to be associated with me. People do sometimes recognise me on the street now, but it's not a trial to me. Occasionally I get an over anxious person who gets a bit over excited, and I get some funny mail and the odd, funny phone call, but it's not a tremendous tribulation.
You're extremely knowledgeable about a wide variety of music, much of it quite obscure. How have you educated yourself musically?
My dad was a singer with a band that did covers of the hits of the day, so when I was a kid I fell heir to many more records than the average kid. I spent all my money on music when I was a teenager, and when I first went to America I plundered all the secondhand shops for records that aren't available in England. These days I might mention someone I admire in an interview and people will quite generously give me rare records and tapes of artists I like.
How do you explain the current trend of social conscience in rock? Three years ago benefits weren't being staged.
Because there's such an unwillingness on the part of the people who should be doing something about the ills of the world, a few altruistic people and a few self-serving people have conspired for their varying motives to try and do something about these ills. The only pity is that these benefits have largely been a horrible travesty of what we call music. The music has all been well-intentioned rubbish.
What do you see as being the dominant characteristics of America?
I could say something glib and cutting — which is probably what people would anticipate from me — but I think you should be more compassionate with people. I'm not trying to write big songs about America, but one of the recurring themes on my new album is the idea of travel or exile.
Someone once asked me what I thought of America, and I said it was a brilliant mistake. There's no country on earth founded on more righteous and noble principles, and there's never been a country where those principles have been abused as horribly as they are here. I'm not saying it's a total failure, because the thing isn't over yet, but for something that started so well, it's gone down an awful lot.
But that's just human nature and I've tried to keep the commentary in the songs to a minimum because we've got no perspective of history and, even if we did, it wouldn't be right to go around making wild generalisations. After all, this is only pop music I'm up to.
Why is Western culture so enamoured of the idea of the celebrity?
People love failure as much as they love success. They like people taken down a peg and they like to see Elizabeth Taylor get fat. I just recorded a song called "Suit of Lights," which is about this sort of morbid embrace of celebrity.
Would you agree that the creative drive and the impulse toward self-destruction are entertained?
No, that's just a romantic myth perpetrated by artists lacking self-discipline. But that's not to say that there isn't an element of creativity to be found in the pursuit of self-destruction. The two things are not mutually exclusive.
What's the most important thing you get from your work?
I get it out of my head and therefore am a bit less neurotic. I can be very neurotic, a terrible hypochondriac — all those sorts of things. I'm a human being and have all the usual vanities and frailties. But I'm not trying to make them into a career.
Ideally, how should the press function in relation to music?
It should shut up and listen. Still, the press must be more than just an information channel because there's such a lot of terrible stuff put out that wouldn't go uncriticised. But the press tends to imagine itself much more important than it actually is and, occasionally, behaves in an outrageously presumptuous way. My new album was recently reviewed in England This guy hated the record but he wouldn't just leave it at that. He went on to worry about my troubled mental state, my artistic block and my troubled love life. I haven't got any trouble in my love life.
Over the past couple of years my marriage reached an unhappy level. I failed in keeping that relationship going but hopefully nobody has lost and she and I will be stronger apart than we were together. And I love Cait (of the Pogues) very much, so I'm not unhappy and I'm not an alcoholic. I can drink a lot when I want to. I don't take any drugs. That London critic's review didn't just infer these things — he stated them as though they were fact.