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You've got to admit it, the man is a perverse genius. On the other hand, so what? It doesn't mean you've got to like him. He's really the kind of perverse genius who doesn't know when to go home. On this album we get no fewer than 20 tunes. I myself jumped up no fewer than five times on Side One, expecting to turn the record over, only to find Costello launching into another song.
I mean, this is a perverse genius who stops by to chat for a few minutes and then you can't get rid of him. What he's got to say may be as interesting as all get-out, except for the fact that it's 20 past midnight and he simply won't get out. He wants to sleep over. He's got his duffel bag in the car (which some other sucker loaned him, just for the night, six months ago).
He's so obnoxious that after a while you begin to forget his good qualities; the clever lines get buried by his overbearing style. No wonder Costello himself is so disillusioned by the paltry quality of the people he comes into contact with. Can't sustain a normal relationship. Always winds up stomping home embittered, drunk and ready to write it all down. On Get Happy, it's all here, especially his ode to our fair city, "New Amsterdam" (Cut 19). Best of all, you get to turn him off whenever you feel the need.
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