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In the two years since Elvis Costello's last appearance at the University, how much has changed? True, he has evaded his fate as The Man That Time Forgot, gained and lost his own "soul orchestra" and dented the charts again. Yet although the Refectory (the Leeds University sauna, to quote Elvis) was jammed to capacity, the puzzling discrepancy between audience/critical reaction and commercial "success" remains. Is he destined to become the punk generation's Peter Hammill; high on the art but blank on the chart?
At least the Hit Singles crowd haven't forgotten him, and the show opened with full throttle versions of "Oliver's Army" and "Watching The Detectives" as if to remind the audience of who up there, to establish some form of common ground, and then move on (and also, I suggest, to get what was expected of him over and done with straight away). Such ploys have pulled Costello back from the brink of merely going-through the motions of live performance.
The set was of a much more challenging nature and wider scope than last year's Punch The Clock tour, with none of the slickness which threatened to smother the songs during those concerts. Reverting to a four-man line-up, and using the sax-playing of Gary Barnacle to flesh out the bones of songs such as "Pills And Soap," Costello has dropped many standards from his set in favour of older and less well-tried material. The perky "The Invisible Man" and the clenched-fist show-burn of "Less Than Zero" were both excellent, and welcome surprises.
A large amount of Costello's appeal as a live performer lies in his ability to find a compelling balance between the "produced" song and the vital life of the music in the moment of its performance. Never merely presenting an imperfect copy of the record, the in-built malleability of the songs allow them to emerge with an exclusive identity each time The Attractions play them — pianist Steve Naive seems to have and endless capacity for variation within the material. Yet the resulting sound is one of fine definition and startling clarity, and not the unfocused mess which could emerge. The Attractions are Costello's in that they realize the potential of his songs though permanent experiment — improvisation with credibility!
To contradict myself immediately, the high-point of the show was Elvis' solo spot during the encore, where the unexpected subtleties of his voice emerged and song's like Richard Thompson's
"End Of The Rainbow" held the crowd spellbound. Elvis retreating into the sepia gloom, repeating the final line of "Riot Act" until the microphone would no longer pick up his voice was the social event of the year.
The slow sensuous throb of "Love Field" and "I Hope You're Happy Now," a salve directed right at the shorts and shuttlecocks generation, added a sense of richness and texture to the set which closed, thankfully, not with the absurd knees-up ritual of "Pump It Up" but the soul-stomp of "I Can't Stand Up For Falling Down." Commercially, Elvis Costello may still be on relatively hard times but tonight, at least, he proved beyond doubt that as a live performer he is quite simply without equal.
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