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If any proof were needed that rock 'n' roll is not only alive but thrashingly, euphorically healthy, then Saturday night's show featuring Elvis Costello, Nick Lowe and Mink DeVille at the Palladium was It.
My only complaint was that opening act Nick Lowe and his group, Rockpile, didn't play for three hours. Though he has been highly regarded for years as songwriter, producer and member of other groups in England (where the rock press has appropriately nicknamed him Basher), it is only in the last few weeks that he released his first album as Nick Lowe. In the United States, the album is called Pure Pop for Now People. In England, it's Jesus of Cool, which is more to the point, though I prefer to regard Lowe as the Guru of Neat.
Leading an all-star band that included Dave Edmunds (himself a headliner in England) on guitar, Lowe showed himself to be the most dexterous craftsman working in rock 'n' roll today. His music runs elegantly amok over rock's stylistic terrain, fueled by a seemingly endless supply of power chords, memorable melodies and spirit-rousing lyrics.
Lowe constructs rock anthems with a casual profundity that evokes Chuck Berry in his heyday. His brief set started with a McCartneysque rendition of "So It Goes," and included masterpieces of modern rock composition such as "I Knew the Bride (When She Used to Rock 'n' Roll)," which Lowe wrote for Edmunds; "Down Down Down," which displayed Lowe's and Edmunds' (who sang lead here) grasp of basic Creedence Clearwater Revival; "Fallin' in Love Again," from Lowe's days with the woefully underrated band Brinsley Schwarz (which, besides Lowe, included current members of Graham Parker's band, The Rumour); and "Heart of the City," which, like most of Lowe's songs, said more in two and a half minutes than most rock bands can say in an hour. His shows at the Bottom Line tomorrow night are sold out, but if you've got a few hours to wait for standing room, do it.
Lowe almost certainly would've stolen the show from anyone except Elvis Costello. After a consistent set by New York's promising Mink DeVille, whose lead singer, Willie DeVille, embodies James Brown, Dion, Howlin' Wolf, the Elegants and Gene Pitney, Costello performed what may have been the best set of his brief but blessed career.
In "I'm Not Angry," Costello communicated the frustration and paranoia of one with a methedrine hangover. In "This Year's Girl," he explored the emptiness that he perceives behind the smile of a Cheryl Tiegs. With sly innuendo, his vocal was reminiscent of Mick Jagger on "Stupid Girl."
Costello combined his lyrical outbursts of anger with hooks that Elton John would trade his collection of eyeglasses for. His songs are addicting but can cause problems. When you walk around the office singing to yourself "well I used to be disgusted /now I try to be amused," because "the angels wanna wear my red shoes," people look at you funny.
But it doesn't matter. Costello sang his song to "Alison" with the same sincerity Richie Valens might have lavished on his "Donna." On the mercurial "The Beat," Costello matched the playfulness of Freddie and the Dreamers with the urgency of The Doors. On "Pump It Up," you can see Costello as a scrawny teenager, trying to build up his biceps with barbells. Like Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, the Rolling Stones, Costello embodies Zen and the Art of Rock 'n' Roll. He's discovered It and has been able to project It so ably that nobody makes jokes about his name anymore.
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