Boston Phoenix, October 28, 1986: Difference between revisions
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Napoleon Dynamite ''was'' in town last week. The foul-tempered huckster and inventor of the Spectacular Spinning Songbook battled Elvis Costello for the spotlight during the first "Costello Sings Again" show, on Thursday night. Although it was billed as a solo concert, the Attractions (Bruce Thomas, bass; Pete Thomas, drums; Steve Neive, keyboards) backed Elvis, er, Napoleon on all but a half-dozen songs. The following night Costello played with the Confederates; the final performance was simply "Elvis Costello and the Attractions." Since the earlier show also featured the Attractions, I wondered how much song overlap there would be between the first And third evenings. Not much, as it turned out — a tribute to Costello's prolific songwriting. Each night offered roughly 25 numbers (counting medleys), and only four were repeated (one of which the band has never recorded, Little Willie John's "Leave My Kitten Alone"). Even though the Series was opening, word on the street pegged the Saturday-night Attractions show as the hottest ticket of the three nights. Like the Mets, it came up short. | Napoleon Dynamite ''was'' in town last week. The foul-tempered huckster and inventor of the Spectacular Spinning Songbook battled Elvis Costello for the spotlight during the first "Costello Sings Again" show, on Thursday night. Although it was billed as a solo concert, the Attractions (Bruce Thomas, bass; Pete Thomas, drums; Steve Neive, keyboards) backed Elvis, er, Napoleon on all but a half-dozen songs. The following night Costello played with the Confederates; the final performance was simply "Elvis Costello and the Attractions." Since the earlier show also featured the Attractions, I wondered how much song overlap there would be between the first And third evenings. Not much, as it turned out — a tribute to Costello's prolific songwriting. Each night offered roughly 25 numbers (counting medleys), and only four were repeated (one of which the band has never recorded, Little Willie John's "Leave My Kitten Alone"). Even though the Series was opening, word on the street pegged the Saturday-night Attractions show as the hottest ticket of the three nights. Like the Mets, it came up short. | ||
The difference between the two Costello/Attractions shows was so striking it's hard to believe that they were separated by only one night. More than that, the second was the least satisfying concert I've seen them give — which covers every one of the dozen or so shows they've done in this area. Part of the trouble was Costello himself. He'd lighten up somewhat when he was introducing the band or thanking Aimee Mann and Jules Shear for their participation on Thursday and Friday, but mostly he was tight-jawed and sullen — he didn't appear to he enjoying himself the way he did on previous nights. Early on, he stretched out "Watching the Detectives" — something he's done before, but here he prowled the stage striking dissonant chords while the Attractions pumped dutifully away. His meandering didn't give the song any added tension, and it certainly didn't embellish his reputation as a guitarist; lost in the effort of trying to follow him, the crowd turned from enthusiastic to quizzical. "Lipstick Vogue," traditionally one of the band's hellbent numbers, had a similar problem. The song was slowed down just enough to vitiate it, and its anger was transformed into weariness. The fans had jumped up at the first chords, but instead of dancing they ended up ... observing. | The difference between the two Costello/Attractions shows was so striking it's hard to believe that they were separated by only one night. More than that, the second was the least satisfying concert I've seen them give — which covers every one of the dozen or so shows they've done in this area. Part of the trouble was Costello himself. He'd lighten up somewhat when he was introducing the band or thanking [[Aimee Mann]] and [[Jules Shear]] for their participation on Thursday and Friday, but mostly he was tight-jawed and sullen — he didn't appear to he enjoying himself the way he did on previous nights. Early on, he stretched out "Watching the Detectives" — something he's done before, but here he prowled the stage striking dissonant chords while the Attractions pumped dutifully away. His meandering didn't give the song any added tension, and it certainly didn't embellish his reputation as a guitarist; lost in the effort of trying to follow him, the crowd turned from enthusiastic to quizzical. "Lipstick Vogue," traditionally one of the band's hellbent numbers, had a similar problem. The song was slowed down just enough to vitiate it, and its anger was transformed into weariness. The fans had jumped up at the first chords, but instead of dancing they ended up ... observing. | ||
And Costello's decision to perform nearly every song from ''Blood & Chocolate'' (he skipped only "Next Time Round") resulted in a show that couldn't maintain its momentum. Elvis is undeniably one of the finest pop songwriters of his generation, but not even he has turned out albums so strong they cry to be performed whole. Interspersed amid his other, more judiciously chosen material ("New Lace Sleeves," "Shabby Doll," and "Kid About It" represented his romantic side; "No Action," "You Belong to Me," and "Pump It Up" gave us service with a sneer), many of the new songs weren't up to snuff. This was never clearer than when he segued from a touching, melancholy version of "Alison" into "Home Is Anywhere You Hang Your Head." "Alison" is sung in the first person, and from the opening lines (''"Oh, it's funny to be seeing you after so long, girl"'') it draws you into its story. Whereas in "Home Is Anywhere," you can't even tell whether Mr. Misery is the singer. Worse, ''Blood & Chocolate'''s compositions aren't concerned with hooks. Simple as it is, the tune of the chorus couplet of "Alison," ''"I know this world is killing you / My aim is true,"'' sticks in your mind; the melody of "Home Is Anywhere" is just a plodding cart to carry the lyrics. In pairing these two, Costello wanted to draw a line from his oldest song to one of his newest; but "Alison" was a hit with both fans and other performers, and I can't foresee anyone's doing a cover version of "Home." | And Costello's decision to perform nearly every song from ''Blood & Chocolate'' (he skipped only "Next Time Round") resulted in a show that couldn't maintain its momentum. Elvis is undeniably one of the finest pop songwriters of his generation, but not even he has turned out albums so strong they cry to be performed whole. Interspersed amid his other, more judiciously chosen material ("New Lace Sleeves," "Shabby Doll," and "Kid About It" represented his romantic side; "No Action," "You Belong to Me," and "Pump It Up" gave us service with a sneer), many of the new songs weren't up to snuff. This was never clearer than when he segued from a touching, melancholy version of "Alison" into "Home Is Anywhere You Hang Your Head." "Alison" is sung in the first person, and from the opening lines (''"Oh, it's funny to be seeing you after so long, girl"'') it draws you into its story. Whereas in "Home Is Anywhere," you can't even tell whether Mr. Misery is the singer. Worse, ''Blood & Chocolate'''s compositions aren't concerned with hooks. Simple as it is, the tune of the chorus couplet of "Alison," ''"I know this world is killing you / My aim is true,"'' sticks in your mind; the melody of "Home Is Anywhere" is just a plodding cart to carry the lyrics. In pairing these two, Costello wanted to draw a line from his oldest song to one of his newest; but "Alison" was a hit with both fans and other performers, and I can't foresee anyone's doing a cover version of "Home." | ||
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The chilly sidewalks outside the Orpheum were crowded on October 16 before the first of the three Elvis Costello (Declan who?) shows — all of them sold out for weeks. But diligent politicos were arduously hawking the Revolutionary Worker, hoping to snare lumpen fans of one of the few rockers with both an articulate political turn and a sizable audience. This turned out to be an odd bit of ancillary merchandise, because Costello was mounting quite an unconventional idea of subversion that night. The stage set resembled a combination low-rent circus and no-cover nightclub: you had the Sensational Spinning Songbook — a multicolored pinwheel with the titles of vintage and recent Costello songs and one or two covers stenciled on the segments — with a go-go cage for dancers off to one side and a mock cocktail lounge complete with little black-and-white TV and Gatorade on the portable bar stand. After an irritating hour delay, Costello waded through the standing front rows toward the stage; he was already in full flight as Napoleon Dynamite, the unctuous but impassioned master of ceremonies gasping that, with the help of the Attractions, gyrater "Trixie Lafayette of Atlantic City," and sleazy assistant [[Xavier Valentine]], he was about to orchestrate a singular bit of audience participation. Plucked from the mob up front, you spun the wheel, you got a song, you danced in the cage, you reclined at the bar and sipped glucose juice. | |||
The Napoleon Dynamite Show was the perfect pop/antipop vehicle: the former furious young punk (now battered King of America) and his band became both seers and spectacles, resourceful virtuosos and human jukeboxes, wry iconoclasts and music-hall cornballs. Costello hammed his way though his role with such needling wit and relish that if ''Let's Make a Deal'' ever spins off a rock version, we have the ideal host already in rehearsal — announcing, "Now we're going to do 'The Angels Want To Wear My Red ''Sox''!' ", leading the audience in an impromptu rendition of "Happy Birthday" for a fan in the balcony, starting a pass at Ms. Lafayette's posterior but reconsidering with a demented flinch. | |||
The nonstop between-song theatrics, the affectionate demolition of show biz, and a ripping, good-hearted guest spin by [[Bill Walton]] were about all the first half of the show had going for it. A few numbers ("Lip Service," for example) worked up bumptious vigor, but more often the devices of the Napoleon Dynamite Show were Outshining the deliveries. Costello dispensed with shadow-playing during the "commercial break," in which he played solo guitar and took requests. Some of these were apt (eliciting a particularly anguished "The Only Flame in Town"), but the MC did even better when he turned off the request light and chose his own: "Little Palaces" (wish a caustic tale about a town made entirely of Cadbury chocolate), "The Deportee Bar," and "American Without Tears." His stark guitar runs and his harsh, unwavering declamations turned the selections into Childe Ballads for the electronic Dark Age. | |||
The performance amperage was so increased by the time the Attractions returned (accompanied by Aimee Mann and Jules Shear disguised as Louisiana-showboat-hustler stage assistants) that the game-show format declined into more of a retarding annoyance than a carnival of metaphors. One kicker came with a rendition of Gerry and the Pacemakers' "Ferry Across the Mersey" that in Costello's "Tiny Steps" and a snippet of Them's "Gloria." Eventually, the assembled went on a long tear that started with "Peace, Love, and Understanding" and ran through the encore numbers: Little Willie John's "Leave My Kitten Alone," "Radio, Radio," and "Pump It Up." This last was such a wringer that Costello's sweat-streaked face fell into the fevered grimace of his earliest days. You were startled when he showed sufficient control to wrap up the evening with a roll call of thanks and incorporate a bit of "Twist and Shout" as a tribute to the go-goers. He fumbled for a while, but finally Costello/MacManus/Dynamite helped everybody go home a winner. | |||
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Revision as of 19:31, 14 February 2014
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