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BERKELEY — It's a facetious subtitle to his latest album, Spike, but judging by his show Friday night at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley, Elvis Costello, once rock's angriest young man, has indeed become "the beloved entertainer."
Filling a 2¼-hour concert with a generous selection of songs from most of his 14 albums, Costello gave his most ingratiating show yet, complete with witty stage patter and even — sheesh! sing-alongs.
Of course, these weren't your average sing-alongs: Costello had the crowd singing such lines as "Now I'm dead / Now I'm dead / Now I'm dead / Now I'm dead" on "God's Comic" and he answered the audience-sung "doot do-do-doot" parts of "Let Him Dangle" with strangled cries of "String him up!"
And it's not that he's "not angry anymore" as he once sang. He hates British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher: "When they finally put you in the ground / I'll stand on your grave and tramp the dirt down" he sang in "Tramp the Dirt Down." But Costello has apparently arrived at a point in his life where he can relax a bit and be more generous, at least with his audience.
Instead of the rough Cockney accent he affected during the height of punk, Costello now speaks with a faint Irish brogue, perhaps picked up since he moved to Dublin with Irish wife, Cait O'Riordan. In any case, that softer accent seemed to reflect deeper growth from the defiant punk of '77 to the successful singer/ songwriter of 1989.
But the change was not just in his demeanor or accent. He's touring for the first time without the Attractions, that punks-with-chops trio that had been his band for a decade. Instead, he's assembled a six-piece from the cream of rock sessionmen, including guitarist Marc Ribot and percussionist Michael Blair from Tom Waits' band, pal Steven Soles on guitar and vocals, bassist Jerry Scheff and keyboard player Larry Knechtel. Only one ex-member of the Attractions remains: Pete Thomas on drums.
The new band has a fuller, more polished sound, which worked better on some songs than others. On the mid-tempo material, such as the brilliant one-two-three opening volley of "Accidents Will Happen," "Brilliant Mistake" and "Clubland," as well as on material from Spike, the band wove a shimmering wall of sound reminiscent of Bob Dylan and the Band. The rockabilly "Lovable" was just that, and "Man Out of Time" roiled and surged like nothing since "Like a Rolling Stone."
But on other material, particularly the tighter, punk-era material such as "Mystery Dance," "Pump It Up" and "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding" (performed with cameo guest Nick Lowe, who wrote the song), the new band was a tad unwieldy. "Watching the Detectives" was profitably transformed from twisted reggae to demented jazz, but at times the band's size worked against it, obscuring the power of several crucial lines.
Percussionist Blair contributed little to justify his presence, save for playing some fine piano accordion on "American Without Tears." More disturbingly, guitarist Ribot, one of the year's most appealing new musicians, was given little space to shine.
But when it all clicked, as on the thrashing version of "Uncomplicated" or on the new Costello/McCartney freakabilly composition "Pads, Paws and Claws," it was delightful.
Ultimately, the band didn't matter. Taking the stage for a brief acoustic set in which he essayed both older tunes ("The Angels Want To Wear My Red Shoes," "Radio Sweetheart/Jackie Wilson Said" and "Girls Talk") and newer ones (the country waltz "American Without Tears"), Costello was ingratiating and relaxed, disinclined to harangue the audience as he once had.
It was the "beloved entertainer" Costello's show, and while he didn't seem to thrill the audience the way he did a decade ago, he certainly charmed it.
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