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The fact that a young Englishman calling himself Elvis Costello is the most unusual — and perhaps the best — rock 'n' roll artist to emerge from the pile of garbage offered up by the trendy rock business in the past year does not necessarily mean he should or will ever become extremely popular.
Although Costello can easily sell out concert appearances like the one he staged at The Ledge at Rutgers College in New Brunswick last Thursday, he still has not ventured into any major rock halls in the area, except for a show at the Paramount Theater in Asbury Park in December. In fact, last week's appearance in the state, originally scheduled for the Paramount, was mysteriously relocated to The Ledge with little explanation, although inadequate ticket sales would be a good guess.
Costello's appearance and his attitudes are a flaunting rejection of all the typical rock conventions. He looks like the kid they called a "nerd" back in school, peering at his mail-order Charles Atlas course behind thick glasses with dreams of getting back at that bully on the beach next summer. With almost paranoiac defensiveness, Costello makes no effort to conceal his contempt for the rock press, the rock audience and virtually anyone else that is there to judge him and his music.
The music is his obvious strength, the overwhelming factor that redeems everything else. His short, quick rock 'n' roll songs are outpourings of frustration and anger with the people he sees around him and often deal with the futility of his and our social and sexual relationships.
He and his band — guitar, organ, bass and drum—play music as minimal as can be, giving a deliberate and effective emphasis to Costello's knack for bouncy, original melodies and, of course, his brilliant lyrics. The imagery and intensity of his words are often equal, both in their stark reality and subtle wordplay, to those of his two most influential forerunners, Bob Dylan and John Lennon.
And that voice! Powerful and evocative, Costello's dramatic vocals bring his songs to life, making them prime examples of that rare art called real rock 'n' roll.
At Rutgers, Costello mixed songs from his excellent debut album, My Aim Is True (Columbia), with new material for a forthcoming record that together formed a roughly crafted portrait of a dark and vehement mind, an overwound clock ready to spring its guts at any moment. He performs with never a smile, a spastic stance at the microphone, mechanically spewing forth hatred and cynicism with just a slightly hurt look in his eyes.
The Rutgers audience loved every minute of it, bringing him back for one encore before which he told the crowd with a sneer: "You make me laugh."
This kind of blatant antagonism may not get him very far with the easily offended mass pop audience, but then, the real success would probably spoil the negative attractiveness of Elvis Costello anyway. It is just this kind of paradox that makes him such an intriguing artist, and one that you should certainly be aware of.
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