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Elvis Costello's 32nd album, titled The Boy Named If, underlines why he is one of Britain's greatest songwriters. It continues the purple patch that began with 2018's Look Now with a level of intensity and focus that recalls his commercial and critical zenith at the turn of the 80s. Co-produced by Costello alongside the US-Argentinian engineer and producer Sebastian Krys, the record's full title is The Boy Named If (And Other Children's Stories). As Costello explains, "'If' is a nickname for your imaginary friend; your secret self, the one who knows everything you deny, the one you blame for the shattered crockery and the hearts you break, even your own."
It certainly gives him licence to go full-tilt — the album begins with the punch of "Farewell, OK," and doesn't let up until "Mr. Crescent" 12 tracks later, and it examines "the last days of a bewildered boyhood to that mortifying moment when you are told to stop acting like a child — which for most men (and perhaps a few gals, too) can be any time in the next 50 years."
Given that the album was recorded remotely, it has all the vigour and spirit of a band sitting eyeball to eyeball; and it is impossible not to see the attraction of The Imposters. Costello scythes away at his old Jazzmaster, and delivers some incredibly effective solos and sings at times in his higher, breathier register and deploys his vocals-as-percussion machine-gun approach; Steve Nieve is back to full-on piano cascades and Vox Continental mauling; Davey Faragher's bass and backing vocals radiate; and Pete Thomas is simply on fire, especially on "The Death Of Magic Thinking." It is with good reason that Costello calls Thomas "the greatest British rock 'n' roll drummer playing today;" some of the material here was worked up directly between the two of them before adding Nieve and Faragher's contributions.
While the music may evoke This Year's Model, the wordplay here harks back to the wit and wisdom of the pun-rich Armed Forces / Punch The Clock eras. "Mistook Me For A Friend" occupies the "Subterranean Homesick Blues" of "Pump It Up," full of hooks and Beatles backing vocals: "I was working miracles for petty cash and chemicals." "My Most Beautiful Mistake" is up there with some of his most precious jewels. With a honeyed backing, the tale of the "waitress with dreams of greatness" uses filmic references and includes lyrics that remind this writer why he had such an intense relationship with Costello decades ago: "He wrote her name out in sugar on a Formica counter; 'You could be the game that captures the hunter.' Then he went out for cigarettes, as the soundtrack played The Marvelettes."
Although there are many tender moments on the album (such as the lovely saunter of "Trick Out The Truth" and the sweet touch of "Mr. Crescent"), it is the power of the oldage rampage that stuns.
A few years ago, Costello had to abandon his UK tour because of a cancer scare, but there is no question that on The Boy Named If he is in the rudest possible health. Listeners may have abandoned Costello at certain points in the late 20th Century due to his restless genre-hopping, but treading the same ground was never an option. And if any album was going to reignite passion for his work, The Boy Named If is it. Sublimely crafted, incredibly well-played, there are all the reference points, yet it never sounds like a composite of old glories. The intelligence, urgency and immediacy of his 32nd album are a most welcome surprise.
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