Metuchen-Edison Review, January 29, 1988

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Elvis Costello without tears


Bill Millard

Elvis Costello & The Attractions / Out of Our Idiot

This isn't the next new Costello album, the one where he's rumored to be collaborating with Paul McCartney, but it'll do nicely until the new stuff comes along. Rock's most prolific and most puzzling songwriter never really slows down. Once in a while, though, he stops releasing two records a year and spends some time reworking his styles while his record company fills the gap with another collection of B sides, covers, alternate versions and throwaways. Out of Our Idiot — will the guy's self-deprecation never cease? — is uneven, like it predecessor Taking Liberties and the Country & Western grab bag Almost Blue. It's a requirement for his serious followers, however, and there's enough solid material on it to justify the import price tag for non-fanatics as well.

There may not be such a thing as a non-fanatic who'd buy a Costello record. I've never met anyone whose opinion of him wasn't extreme: depending on whom you're talking to, he's either the dominant pop craftsman of our time or a self-absorbed poseur who can't edit out his indulgences. Dozens of times I've taken the former position in beery debates with my band's other main writer, who's never acquired the taste; either you buy his whole arch, quirky package, apparently, or you just don't. It's something like liking Szechuan peppers. I'm going to avoid the temptation to rave about Costello's obvious qualities, since they're right there on the surface to attract or repel listeners of various temperaments; I'll just assume that if you're reading a Costello review, you regard verbal dexterity, surprising chords, infectious descending melodies, rhythm section trickery, insistent genre recombination and the appropriate use of trash production ideas as good things.

Out of Our Idiot starts at a pretty high level and sustains it almost all the way through. The soul-swing duet with Jimmy Cliff, "Seven Day Weekend," is great light fun, and Elvis' nasal voice blends better with Cliff's pure Jamaican tone than you might expect. Many of the album's high points, indeed. are collaborations: the single "The People's Limousine," recorded with T Bone Burnett under the name of the Coward Brothers, is top-notch Costello-ism, full of alarming off-rhymes ("angels" and "Engels"?!) that drive the song headlong toward its tremendous hook line; an acoustic version of Burt Bacharach's "Baby It's You" balances Costello's hyperbolic emotion with Nick Lowe's straight-faced understatement, overcoming the obvious bathetic schmaltz of the material. For all his reputation as a megalomaniac, Costello has recently been remarkably successful working with other people; perhaps, as his attitude keeps maturing and his celebrity duets keep accumulating, the Napoleonic reputation will have to be revised.

"American Without Tears" and "Blue Chair," two songs off his brilliant 1986 albums King of America and Blood & Chocolate, appear here in rearranged versions; they're both good reminders that great material will stand up in a variety of settings. "American" sports a Dylanesque harmonica and a whole new set of lyrics, dubbed the Twilight Version: the war-bride narrative takes a dour turn this time, making a marriage seem more like a kidnapping or a shady business deal than a great escape. Steve Nieve (sic — he seems to have settled on his original misspelled pseudonym) adds a Booker T. organ wash to the new rendition of "Chair," placing this song of rivalry and reversal in the appropriate neo-Motown context first seen on Get Happy! in 1980. Since the regrettable epater-les-americains incident in the Columbus Holiday Inn, Costello's put the unfounded accusations of racism to rest by paying frequent, skillful and honest homage to black American music; "Blue Chair," a bouncy take of Smokey Robinson's "From Head to Toe," and the stuttering blue beat of "So Young" prove that white soul is no oxymoron in this man's hands.

Not everything works so well here. There's one egregious mistake, a cover of Yoko Ono's "Walking on Thin Ice" closing the first side; it may be the most listenable "song" in the Oh No repertoire, but this gimmicky funk treatment is a bad idea badly executed. (Fortunately, there's a cure: since Costello's albums are always longer than 45 minutes, it's easy to pick the first song you'll leave off when you make a tape to hear in the car.) Several others on Side Two also run out of steam — the wistful waltz Imperial Bedroom is too long, and "The Flirting Kind" rehashes the worst tinkly-piano excesses of his early 80's cocktail period. But a certain amount of dross is unavoidable in this type of collection, particularly when Costello's inclusive instinct results in a record of almost 20 songs; the strong ones more than outweigh the others (and, of course, a tape deck is a great editorial tool).

There's always been a large dose of ironic self-reference in Costello's writing, a clear awareness of the difficult persona he's engineered for public consumption. As his plurality of names implies, though — Declan Patrick MacManus, Elvis Costello, Napoleon Dynamite, the Little Hands of Concrete, Howard Coward, and so forth — and as subtext-heavy songs like "Riot Act" and "Brilliant Mistake" indicate, he seems uncomfortable within the confines of a single self. The more turns his career takes and the more styles he adapts, the more emotionally expansive he becomes; his gnarly personality is getting as protean as the Attractions' eclectic arrangements. Over in the English department we call this sort of thing Emersonian: ceaseless motion, subtle dissolution of any generic or personal category that doesn't aid progress, innovation not just for its own sake but for the sake of surprise and desire. Costello is complex enough and mobile enough to deserve close, sophisticated readings; in ten years he's gone from nasty and clever to wry, chastened and intelligent. The best parts of this offhand little collection ought to sharpen up some listeners' attention for the next major move by a major artist.

Available from Imp Records, c/o Demon Records Ltd., Canal House, Stars Estate, Transport Avenue, Brentford, Middlesex TW8 0QP, England.


Tags: Out Of Our IdiotThe AttractionsTaking LibertiesAlmost BlueJimmy CliffSeven Day WeekendThe Coward BrothersT Bone BurnettThe People's LimousineBurt BacharachBaby It's YouNick LoweAmerican Without Tears No. 2 (Twilight Version)King Of AmericaBlue ChairBlood & ChocolateGet Happy!!Steve NieveBooker T. & The MGsSmokey RobinsonFrom Head To ToeSo YoungWalking On Thin IceYoko OnoImperial BedroomThe Flirting KindRiot ActDeclan MacManusNapoleon DynamiteLittle Hands Of ConcreteBrilliant MistakeHoward CowardPaul McCartney

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Metuchen-Edison Review, January 29, 1988


Bill Millard reviews Out Of Our Idiot.

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