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It only seems like quite recently that Elvis Costello was standing outside a major record convention in London looking like an eccentric itinerant tube-station busker. A man who looked like a cross between Buddy Holly and the silent comedian Harold Lloyd, the joke was made to appear silly when his debut album. My Aim is True, was released shortly afterwards to almost unanimous acclaim.
However, the rock business is sadly all too similar to other classic capitalist enterprises where last year's model is this year's flop. And to open your career with a critically and popularly acclaimed album can be the kiss of death for later efforts. (Ask Mike Oldfield if in doubt.)
But then Elvis Costello is much more than an average product of rock's astute business sense. Hype may have brought him to public attention, but it is his songs and performances that have kept him and his band, The Attractions, there. His second album This Year's Model, as the title suggests, was conscious of the fluctuations of fashion, but it also clearly displayed that the angry, little bespeckled man in the tight suit had too much to offer to become one of rock's forgotten flashes.
His third album, Armed Forces, was the final installment of the period that began with his debut. Like his first two albums the lyrical imagery was vicious and the songs tough and uncompromising. He seemed to be opening up his mind in public, though in such a veiled manner that the feelings could relate to the listener as much as to the writer. He had never been content to repeat pop's well-worn cliches; when you listened you realised that the songs were the result of the classic artistic mix of anguish ald inspiration and not the product of cynical condescension.
Last year's Get Happy switched the emphasis from the head to the feet with EC clearly terracing his roots in American soul and r&b. But if the instinctive reaction was to start shuffling the old pedes, the mind was not slow to catch up. And when that finally happened the clear impression was that his anger and angst was evening out; his bitterness was being tempered by his growing maturity.
And so to Trust (F-Beat), his fifth and latest album. Again produced by Nick Lowe, with some assistance from Roger Bechirian (Undertones and Tony Koklin producer), the album features 14 tracks, evenly divided between the two sides and while one or two tempt reservation, there is not a fully-dressed turkey in hearshot. Yes, folks, the bespeckled one has again come up with a virtual haul of gems.
As yet some of the songs still have me listening close to the speakers, but while some of the lyrics await to hit with their full import, there is no doubt that this is a very rich vein of material. How about this for a taster: "How does it feel now you've been undressed / by a man with a mind like the gutter press" ("Shot With His Own Gun"). However, there is much more to this album than superb lyrics; at its best the music is some of his sharpest yet and just try to keep those feet from shuffling .. .
The album opens with his current single, "Clubland," which admirably sets the level for subsequent tracks, a standard that is rarely lowered and occasionally surpassed. The song finds Elvis looking at "normal" life with typically perceptive vision. "Lovers Walk" opens with a rough drum beat a la Bo Diddley, which dominates the song. EC is on familiar ground dealing in general terms with relationships and the pitfalls that accompany them.
"You'll Never Be a Man" is the first of his personalised songs. "I don't wanna be first / I just wanna last," he sings as he nervously puts the proposition. "Pretty Words" has him contemplating the loss of identity in a modern society with a refrain that is irresistable. "Strict Time," using the metaphor of the dance floor, finds him raging against the rules that bind us, while "Luxembourg" is a great piece of rock 'n' roll that fairly lashes along, though the dense production obscures the lyrics somewhat. "Watch Your Step" closes the side with one of his advice songs that he almost whispers. Again decrying accepted normality, he achieves this by pointing out the obvious dirt that is all too often passed off without comment; not so much swept under the carpet, as ignored.
The second side opens with the superb "New Lace Sleeves," in which he subtly tears apart the "white lies" that form the basis of society. For the (once again) excellent "From a Whisper to a Scream" he is joined by Glen Tilbrook for a vocal duet, with Martin Belmont, from The Rumour, adding some guitar. A rocker, the song deals with romance "like a finger running down a seam / From a whisper to a scream."
Then to "Different Finger" the only country song (EC is a big fan of George Jones), which is beautifully written in the idiom and predictably deals with romantic problems. "White Knuckles" returns to a faster pace dealing ruthlessly (quite right too) with women beaters. The dramatic "Shot With His Own Gun" follows with just a lone grand piano behind EC's sympathetic vocal as he chronicles the fall of a womaniser: "What's on his mind now it's anyone's guess / losing his touch with each caress / Spend every evening looking so appealing / He comes without warning, leaves without feeling."
"Fish 'n' Chip Paper" returns to rockier territory with (I think) a dig at newspapers before the album closes with "Big Sister's Clothes," a gentle though firm stab at someone's little sister: "It's easier to say I love you than yours sincerely I suppose."
That is Trust, though undoubtedly there is a lot more that has eluded me. Maybe time will alter my understanding of the album, but it certainly won't change my opinion. It is also worth mentioning that Costello is in excellent voice and that his band have rarely sounded so effective with all three, Steve Nieve (keyboards), Pete Thomas (drums) and Bruce Thomas (bass) contributing substantially to the album's success.
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