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Elvis Costello, consciously or not would seem to be signifying the death of rock 'n' roll, as we know it.
He probably doesn't mean to, any more than you meant to break your first girlfriend's heart. It's just that things happen and you've got to admit it. Obviously Costello loves rock 'n' roll; his albums are filled with bits and pieces of historical reproductions. It is, however, just as obvious that he knows rock 'n' roll has reached a blockade of immense proportions.
He is trying to lead it out of the wilderness, but in doing so, he is also tolling the bell for what has gone before, without really giving too many clues as to what may be replacing it.
For sure, there is plenty of good rock 'n' roll left, a number of artists out there are working the fields. But mainly those fields are ones that have been proven fertile, and raising a good crop of 'em isn't as exciting as breaking new ground.
Costello is breaking new ground. But just as important as that is the fact that he is using the same ol' tools to do it. He is grounded in history even as he tries to escape into the future.
At bottom, one would have to say that Costello is beyond suitable classification right now. He, for example, does borrow from the spirit of '50s rockabilly (though he never puts it into play seriously). He also has Beatlish strains, and the Kinks-Ray Davies link is too strong to be denied. Against that (or perhaps distilled out of that) is his "new wave" predilection.
On his new album, Armed Forces (Columbia), Costello has honed his blade to a dangerously sharpened point. There is less effusive imagery; no "Mystery Dance" or "(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes." The music here is lean and tough, still intriguingly involved thanks to Nick Lowe's production, but getting to the point quickly.
What makes it so dangerous is that one no longer can take Costello as simply another (although better than most) new wave rock 'n' roller. He is, on Armed Forces, saying something more and saying it with unmistakable clarity. There is an element of humor still in his music (just consider "Chemistry Class" and "Two Little Hitlers"), but he is not playing around here.
(The album is accompanied by a three-song EP that was cut last summer during a brief tour of obscure places, the one in question here being Hollywood High School. "Alison," perhaps Costello's best known song thanks to Linda Ronstadt's cover of it on her latest album, and "Watching the Detectives" both come off of Costello's first album. The third cut is "Accidents Will Happen," the studio version of which leads off the Armed Forces album. The EP is just a bonus throw-in, interesting only in what it shows of Costello's live capabilities; it sheds no real light on him as an artist.)
There is a level on which one can take Costello as entertainment. His lyrics are clever and meaningful, and his music, performed by his three-man band, the Attractions, under Lowe's baton, is seldom less than invigorating.
But below that, on a gut level, is where Costello delivers his most stimulating thrusts. "Accidents Will Happen," for example, is a rather pleasant tune that is very enjoyable. But it surrounds a hardcore of Nietzschean self-knowledge. Costello answers the title's cliche with "I don't wanna hear it / cause I know what I've done."
"Moods for Moderns" is the album's standout. Rubbing against its multi-textured sound is a silly keyboard punctuation that makes the music just as disorienting as the lyrics, which paint a very strange landscape for the moderns.
Still, with all of its merit, Armed Forces overall is not a totally satisfying record. It shares with Costello's previous two albums the picture of an artist in the state of becoming. It is flawed, followed by moments of striking ingenuity that leave one with the strong impression that Costello has in him at least one great album.
He hasn't given it to us yet, which is smart. What he has to say probably should be doled out slowly.
In mixing such things as "Accidents Will Happen" and "Goon Squad" with rather standard dishes like "Oliver's Army" and "Party Girl," Costello is forcing the realization of just how diffused and confused the basic nature of rock 'n' roll has become.
Whether what he's saying will be borne out, of course, remains to be seen. But Costello believes it, and certainly there are enough signposts in this decade to bring pause over what rock 'n' roll's state of health is. He may be right in diagnosing its illness as terminal.
If he is, then you've got to have a proper wake before you can crown the new king.
And that is what Costello is getting around to giving us.
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