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Oldtimers will recall with amusement the uproar that ensued when Bob Dylan went "electric" at the Newport Folk Festival two decades ago. Folk purists in those days feared that technology — in this case electric guitars — would corrupt the music that spoke to them so plainly and expressively; that electricity would replace heart and soul with razzle-dazzle. Twenty years later, ironically, the fears of those diehard folkies have come to pass. Electric guitars have given way to synthesizers, and machines have supplanted humans as the primary makers of our music. The change has been so gradual that it never seemed dramatic or obvious, but it has taken a firm hold on pop culture in the mid-Eighties.
When the word got around that Elvis Costello — to my taste the most prodigious songwriting talent of the last ten years — was coming to the Universal Amphitheatre to do a solo concert, my curiosity was severely piqued. Seeing a rock star play solo in front of 6000 people is as unusual in '84 as watching the moonwalk was in '69. There's a generation of fans who have never seen one guy onstage by himself for a couple hours. "Rad, man. What's he do up there, clip his toenails? Program his Fairlight?"
What Costello did up there was sing songs, while he played, in turn, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, grand piano and Wurlitzer. There were some concessions to current state-of-the-art technology: crystalline sound and artful lighting. But that was it. In the solo context, basic elements are magnified: A pause, hush, or vocal shading can take on all the dynamic significance of a windmill power-chord. What Costello gave us was nothing more or less than the real nitty-gritty. It was a revelation.
Playing solo is akin to doing stand-up comedy: The performer has to convince the audience that what he's saying and doing deserves their full attention. When he doesn't get it, each moment seems like an eternity, for performer and audience alike — there's nowhere to hide on a bare stage. But when he comes through, the experience can be almost miraculous; at once communal and intimate. And unmistakably real. If I sound like I've just discovered something that's terribly obvious, you're wrong. Because of Costello, I've just rediscovered something that's terribly obvious.
I wasn't the only one transported by the experience. Here are some pointed remarks from other concertgoers:
Mike M., musician: "There was something about it that reminded me of the best of everybody I like. [The solo performance] showed elements I never knew were there: I thought, 'Oh, now I know why I like him.' What I found most interesting was him doing other people's songs, like [the Beatles') 'Yes It Is' and [Dylan's] 'I Threw It All Away.' Fabulous. What he's doing is almost like the hootenanny thing. Isn't 'Shipbuilding' an Eighties Pete Seeger song? It's a protest song, but more subtle. I thought he was exceptional — much better than on record. Because he had the freedom — he could take his time."
Jon K., sales manager: "I couldn't help thinking that this is what it would be like to have him at my house playing songs in my living room ... I'm very impressed with the crowd. If 50 people had started screaming at the same time, it would've seemed rude, but it was isolated. And when it did happen, other people would go, 'Shhh!' He was far enough out on a limb where he would need [the crowd's] support to pull it off — he was vulnerable up there. I'd say most people knew they'd seen something very unique, interesting, and well thought out."
Geoffrey C., songwriter: "I sure couldn't understand why some people tried to clap along, and why they started shouting 'Elvis is king!' and 'Elvis, we love you!' at all the wrong moments. And there were a lot of those, because for the most part it was so quiet in there... He's not the kind of artist who draws borderline fans; people like him for very definite reasons. Cuz he's provocative. I'm not particularly interested in his social and political observations outside of a personal context, but who says you have to like the whole thing? For the most part, though, it was overwhelming. What Pat Riley said about the Lakers goes for Costello, too: The timing and what's in his heart were the keys."
Clearly, the solo gambit isn't for every artist nor every fan; it takes a special variety of each for the experience to be rewarding — or even possible, for that matter. But wouldn't it be a kick to see more artists show the daring, aplomb, and sheer guts to enter the naked dancer zone of solo performance? For a couple hours the other evening, Elvis Costello — all by himself — blew away the accumulated blips, beeps, and thups of contemporary rock with an invigorating blast of fresh air.
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