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Night rally
Elvis Costello & The Imposters / Uptown Theater
Jason Harper
Last Wednesday night, my friend Alexi and I went to the Uptown to see Elvis Costello and the Imposters.
After Brooklyn folk quartet Hem played a set as sweet and peaceful as a mother's touch, nearly lulling us to the sleep of a breast-fed infant — and after we had refuelled at the bar — we jumped to our feet the instant Elvis bashed out his first chord. We were about 30 feet from the sparkly-boot-wearing Englishman, and about seven feet from the massive clump of speakers delivering his unwavering, soulful yowl to the audience.
When I say we, however, I do not mean the entire audience — I mean just me and Alexi. He and I danced happily through one and a half songs while the rest of the audience remained seated (except for a pocket of resistance across the theater and down front), until a middle-aged woman sitting behind us politely asked if we would move to the side so that she and her lazy-ass husband could passively enjoy the show. We slumped down in our seats, spirits crushed, hatred for all baby boomers roiling in our hearts.
Costello played like an over-rockin' man-machine for two hours before his first encore, running down all his hits and then some. We struck up a conversation with Hem singer Sally Ellyson, who had emerged to watch the show, and she told us that Costello had taken a cortisone injection in his throat that day just so he could perform. (Throat problems had forced him to postpone his KC engagement in May; this was the makeup date.) In spite of that, Costello played like we were the best crowd ever — he even took a seat in the front row, inviting two undeserving attendees to sit on the stage while he played "Alison" from the audience. And still, the roomful of old farts could not muster the enthusiasm to stand.
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