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When I last saw Elvis Costello & The Imposters live, in 2016, I wrote that ‘In these most surreal and unsettling of times there’s nothing like a good dose of political pop to shake up and reinvigorate the senses,’. And as nothing has changed in our beleaguered times, only got more surreal and unsettling, tonight’s gig was very much looked forward to.
In the event, it turns out to be a mixture of the sublime and the frustrating as our troubadour of the tortured tune plays through an echoey sound throughout, with some of his marvellous lyricism missed out through dodgy mics as well. Don’t get me wrong, it’s no disaster by any means, but for much of the two-hour-plus set you get the sense of listening through a fortified sound barrier, or, worse, underwater…
So it’s a big-up to Declan MacManus and the boys that their professionalism and brilliance still shone through the fudgy sound. The personal and universal in his politics have always infused his material, delivered with a creatively poppy sensibility, and in his four decades-plus of playing he’s encompassed many genres with style and loving authority, flavouring and utilising them with his own unique take.
Tonight it’s a mix of past and present, opening with Accidents Will Happen and Green Shirt, their impact only diminished by the infuriating sound problems. Much of his latest album The Boy Named If, is of course played, as it is The Boy Named If tour after all.
That records’ echoing of his early pop dynamism sits well alongside Nashville country airs, R’n’B and darker noir moods. He has an uncanny ear for the storytelling atmospheric of songs – much in the same way as, say, Tom Waits has – ably abetted as ever by the emphatic drumming of drummer Pete Thomas and the masterful inovations of keyboarist Steve Nieve, his old Attraction compadres, now Imposters.
Bassist Davey Faragher, an Imposter for a few years now, and the star-spangled inclusion of young country guitarist Charlie Sexton, Bob Dylan’s regular axeman no less, complete this most splendid of outfits.
A few numbers in and Hetty O’Hara Confidential is a fine example of this noir storytelling, complete with ’50s mic and stripped-down vernacular rock feel. Costello has a dig at the sound quality during the Death Of Magic Thinking, before Watching The Detectives is given a sublime twist, veering off its reggae base into the more storyland thematics of Invisible Lady.
Radio Radio begins with a Spanish intro, before increasing into its ecstatic finale, Big Stars Have Tumbled is a slow churner, and Brilliant Mistake from the King Of America album a gentle rumba, Costello switching mics and getting a clearer sound on his vocals for the first time.
Costello’s in a loquacious mood tonight, chatting at length in between some songs and cracking jokes in what has become a Liverpudlian accent with New York inflections – though we strain to hear exactly what he’s saying at times. ‘Shoot the soundman!’ someone yells and by coincidence or fate the sound on the glorious pop of Penelope Halfpenny improves again.
From light to darkness as What If I Can’t Give You Anything But Love? builds up its quirky aura before a long throbbing bass and big guitar outro. Costello’s numbers are mini-epics in themselves, brilliantly realised and orchestrated, memorable and marvellous, his inimitable quaver cutting through the great musicianship.
Of course we get (The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes, (I Don’t want To Go To) Chelsea, and Pump It Up, all deliciously jarring Costello pop classics, the latter seguing into the epic Nick Lowe number (What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding that’s become a staple of Costello’s shows at their finale.
But it’s not over yet, as he sweeps into the biographical, vaudevillian, Man You Love To Hate, also off the new album, the beautiful evergreen Alison and the grimly apt We’re All Cowards Now, from the Hey Clockface LP.
A more diverse show than the high voltage performance of a few years ago, but one that smoulders and sparks, caught fire with the melding of his indefatigable, soulful, vocals, his impeccable song-writing, the quality of his band and the moods created.
It takes more than a bad sound to keep him down.
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