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Costello has always been one to ring the changes. Ten years ago, he was that odd bloke who made razor-sharp pop while the rest of the business went punk. Now, he's that odd bloke who turns to Nashville for inspiration while the rest of them founder for direction.
At Manchester's Apollo, he left the Attractions behind and presented us with the Confederates — a grizzly, be-denimed bunch of good ol' boys. And in true country style, he sported a sober church-going suit, a tiny George Hamilton IV-style guitar and a whole heap of sincerity.
In others it would seem an aberration. But Costello's questing genius allows him to tangle with what was until recently the most unhip musical form and come up smelling of roses.
Quite how many at the Apollo expected the Grand Ol' Opry treatment is uncertain. It was a politely appreciative reception for songs which cannot have been wholly familiar to all.
Most reverence was reserved for the 45 minutes or so that Costello stood alone with acoustic guitar to rattle through some non-country work. His own material bore up well in the bare form of lyrics and melody, but, after so much unremitting exposure to that familiar nasal tremolo, it was heartening to see the Confederates shambling back on stage.
Costello has the confidence not to rest on his laurels and the ability to make new ideas work. If just one satisfied punter is converted to the joys of Hank Williams, then perhaps he has done the work of a missionary, but the familiarity of the Attractions may have bred even more contentment among Costello's Manchester fans.
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