A man in a pub-crawler's suit screams his fantasies of revenge, scratching out basic rock 'n' roll guitar licks while an ancient electric organ fills the dementedly simple chords. A deafening beat is threatening the building's foundations. It's Elvis Costello and the Attractions, top billed on their second tour of the U.S., and fast becoming a favorite among the chicly aging young who listen to the New Wave.
The crowd in abandon is no longer teeny-boppers, but well into its 20s. Elvis is singing of love-hate relationships, and to connect with his disconsolation and sinister obsessions his listeners must be old enough to know some ambiguity, irony and pain. Old enough to be glad his axe is just a guitar, to recognize his fury as their repressed own, and to laugh, too, that the heart should generate such misery.
Such crowds must be young enough to get off on the primal howl of rock 'n' roll, with its power split between rawness and melody, between unleashed din and memorable lyrics. It helps to be young enough to dance.
Elvis' act plays off such contradictions. He makes obvious his borrowings — the crazy-legged, heavily spectacled look of Buddy Holly, as well as song structures taken from Presley, the first British invasion, plugged-in Dylan and more recent reggae — almost to the point of parody. But Elvis is no wimp; larger in life than the photos would lead one to expect, Costello is a force onstage, a spellbinding, chilling demon offering up the frustrations and guilts accompanying sexual freedoms — and occasionally referring to the fun.
Opening with "Waiting For The End Of The World," Elvis urged God to appear: "I sincerely hope you're coming / 'Cause you really started something." The Supreme Being might answer with another Costello title: "Blame It On Cain (Don't Blame It On Me)" locating the source of soured relations squarely in the self. At a furious pace, Costello continued through almost all of the tunes from his two self-penned Columbia albums, My Aim Is True and This Year's Model. From the latter, "Pump It Up" was immediately catchy, and "Radio, Radio" the critical centerpiece.
Fans cheered the familiar numbers (including an aching version of "Alison," a perky "Sneaky Feelings," and an unresigned "Less Than Zero"), straining to hear new songs (like "I Don't Want To Go To Chelsea"). The three Attractions were well-rehearsed, energetic and raucous, but the show was dominated by Costello, whose singing-speaking was credibly anguished.
Spotlights fired his face red-orange as he recited the pointed plot of "Watching The Detectives," and Costello captivated the audience with an encore of "(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes," "Mystery Dance," and "I'm Not Angry." A couple thousand people shouted "An-gry!" in chorus, a rousing shout-along response that showed they were certainly disturbed.
Suicide and murder, despair and loathing may seem extreme themes to be found in what are essentially teenage torch songs, but these are Costello's clever metaphors examining the depths of our loves. With stomping rock rhythms he's pounding out our dark thoughts; and they prove to be much subtler, more twisted than either heavy metal macho or self-conscious folky sensitivity admits.
Of course, we've known that right along, and there have been a few rock artists around to remind us before Costello appeared. Elvis might burn out before too long as some of his predecessors have, but for now he's holding up a mirror for his audience to study — he's hot, and one should take a look before the powerful images melt away.
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