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When Elvis Costello played the Tampa Jai Alai Fronton in 1978 with Rockpile and Mink DeVille, he barely drew enough fans to fill half the hall.
But things were different back then — after all, hardly anyone in Tampa was familiar with his music and few of the major commercial radio stations were playing his songs with any regularity.
Four years and six albums later, Costello and his band, The Attractions, finally are paying the Bay area another visit, headlining the larger, 8,400-seat Bayfront Center Monday night.
And tickets are selling well, according to an arena spokesman, despite the fact that hardly anyone in Tampa is familiar with Costello's music and even fewer major commercial radio stations are playing his songs with any regularity.
Regardless of Costello's failure (or more likely, radio's failure) to bring his music to a mass audience, the popular British singer-songwriter has emerged as one of the most important, if not controversial, musical figures of the last decade.
With seven American studio albums and one compilation of the B-sides of British singles, Costello has avoided repeating himself by changing styles and arrangements and developing new insights with each release.
Six albums, especially Imperial Bedroom, the latest and most revealing effort, have already garnered "classic" status from critics worldwide.
Some of the more oddly shaped jewels nestled in the Costello's crown:
■ Costello appeared on a 1977 Saturday Night Live Christmas show as a last-minute replacement for the Sex Pistols.
After a stunning version of "Watching the Detectives," he started to sing "Less Than Zero," but, realizing the song's subject matter was "too British" for American audiences, he stopped it cold and lit into the frantic "Radio, Radio."
SNL producer Lorne Michaels, who had carefully rehearsed camera angles with his crew, was reportedly not amused.
■ In 1978, Costello finally released "Radio, Radio," a damnation of the airwaves that was a blatant attempt to "bite the hand that feeds me."
In many markets, that song got Costello more airplay than his ballad hit, "Alison," despite the oft-quoted line that states "the radio is in the hands of such a lot of fools trying to anesthesize the way that you feel."
■ Linda Ronstadt has butchered Costello classics like "Party Girl," "Girls Talk" and "Alison," while The Outlaws totally misinterpreted "Miracle Man" on their "Eye of the Storm" LP.
Costello has shown remarkable restraint by not taking out a contract on either of them.
■ Until Imperial Bedroom, he refused to provide listeners with lyric sheets and purposely slurred key words. The interpretations to many of his songs have been as ludicrous as they are endless. But the mystery has been fascinating.
■ In 1980, Costello granted his first major American interview, not to Rolling Stone or Time magazines — he gave it to Tom Snyder.
Costello's first three albums were bitter, vindictive looks at love and life, tempered with a flair for humorous wordplay.
"I said 'I'm so happy, I could die.' She said 'Drop dead' and left with another guy," he lamented in "Red Shoes."
But if that song and others from My Aim Is True painted him simply as angry, This Year's Model and Armed Forces made him rock's most lethal weapon.
Dominated by a driving Farfisa organ, This Year's Model is probably Costello's most intense work — "Lip Service," "You Belong To Me," and "I Don't Want To Go To Chelsea" (with its "shake her very gently by the throat" reference) paved the way for Armed Forces, which dressed bedroom and social politics in military clothing.
But while critical kudos were at an all-time high, so was the speed of the rumor mill.
A derogatory remark about Ray Charles made in a Columbus, Ohio, barroom to members of the Stephen Stills band led some of the press to brand Costello a racist. He has always maintained that he had been drinking and was simply trying to annoy the others as much as possible. He succeeded.
But for every report of a hostile, cold-blooded Costello who would play 40-minute sets and then drive unsatisfied fans out the arena with high feedback through the speakers, there were contradictory stories about the warm, concerned Costello who, after seeing a woman faint in front of the stage at one of his concerts, stopped the show and jumped into the audience to make sure she was all right.
Get Happy (a heartfelt tribute to '60s soul music), Trust, Almost Blue and Imperial Bedroom combined to lay his hostile image to rest, presenting a less-angry, more reflective singer.
Imperial Bedroom stands as his most personal, melodic statement to date.
Recent concert reviews have been favorable. Shows reportedly are running at about 90 minutes and leaning more toward the more recent material, although classics like "Pump It Up" are still receiving the wildest response.
With this gradual change in persona, Elvis Costello has triumphed over his mysterious and misunderstood image to establish himself finally as a singer, songwriter and, as his Monday night concert may show, a star.
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