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Over the past 20 months I've seen Elvis Costello three times in three very different settings: Houston's teenage House of Blues (born 2008) this week and a pair of nonagenarian venues in New York's ornamental Beacon Theater (b. 1929) last summer and Tulsa's earthy Cain's Ballroom (b. 1924) in 2022.
The latter two are especially fitting, as I've long maintained Costello is a vaudevillian scribe in the guise of a rock 'n' roll singer. Regardless of the space, the beloved entertainer inhabits it with panache. He also looks for ways to localize his show for the forum. Here for the first time in more than seven years, he referenced some natives, like two Johnnys (Guitar Watson and Nash), a Monkee (Michael Nesmith), a teen idol (P.J. Proby) and the leader of the Drells (Archie Bell).
Though our House of Blues lacks the historical heft of the Beacon or Cain's, Costello came across as more playful and animated at his Houston show than those previous two. Perhaps he enjoyed a lift from getting to play tourist for a day in New Orleans after a wintry snap caused the postponement of his concert there earlier in the week.
The rough format for Wednesday night's show was similar to what I'd seen before: The first third was loaded with new and newish material. The middle was filled with some carefully curated deep cuts, a "Live by Request" type scenario, with Costello the curator calling in the requests to Costello the performer. The conclusion was stuffed with the songs — "(I Don't Want to Go to) Chelsea," "Pump It Up," "Everyday I Write the Book," "Alison," "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding" — that unlock the fervor of familiarity for those gathered.
Costello's patter proved both entertaining and informative: He told a story of creative longing based on hearing Bruce Springsteen's music. Thanks to "Thunder Road," Costello envisioned some exotic Jersey tableau with carnival rides, Mary in a red dress and a Roy Orbison song that didn't quite reveal itself when Costello first arrived in the States. The banter was funny but also utilitarian. With it, he mapped out how Springsteen's DNA runs through Costello's "Radio, Radio."
I struggle to think of many active comparisons for Costello. As a writer and recording artist, he remains as prolific in his 60s as he was in his 20s. As a performer, he finds a lane of his own, too. Springsteen is a pleaser. Bob Dylan is not. Costello splits the difference. The compartmentalization of his catalog allows him to appease fans who want a best-of set while affording him the opportunity to play what the songs that interest him. In the case of his Houston show, that included a beautiful Charlie Rich song that I don't believe Costello has recorded ("Who Will the Next Fool Be") and an even lovelier Mose Allison cover that he has recorded ("Everybody's Crying Mercy"). He offered a clutch of songs from recent-ish albums, as well as some unreleased tunes from a musical theater production he's been working on.
"Do you mean 'Cold War'?" you may ask. "The musical I read about last week that's about to open in London?"
Well, no. Costello has another musical theater project that seeps into his sets. That musical is based on Elia Kazan's "A Face in the Crowd," a 1957 movie about a huckster entertainer who plays dumb to rile up a mass of followers who revere him despite his resentment of them. Take from that what you will.
Costello opened his set with "A Town Called Riddle," a song from what may eventually be "A Face in the Crowd" — or bedazzled with Broadway flair: "A Face! In the Crowd!"
Two other songs, "Blood & Hot Sauce" and "Big Stars Have Tumbled" both offered a little glimpse at that work-in-progress. Costello's discography is peppered with unflinchingly political songs about England. The "A Face in the Crowd" narrative offers him a little cover for commentary on his adopted home. But not too much cover: "Put your hand on the Bible," he sings in the former. "Keep your finger on the trigger."
I find the makeup of a Costello show well proportioned to accommodate both performer and audience. Each time I see him, I usually feel a particular affinity for one little sequence of songs. In Houston, that moment came midset when he sat down with an acoustic guitar, moving from the Allison song (not to be confused with his "Alison" song) into "(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes" and "Clubland." His Imposters band — longtime collaborators Pete Thomas on drums and Steve Nieve on keys, bassist Davey Faragher and guest Imposter and Texas legend Charlie Sexton on guitar — can push out songs with great verve and energy.
We are closing in on the half-century mark for Costello's ever-growing songbook. He's a fountain of words and music, one that has offered more than 600 original songs. So if you attend a Costello show eager to hear any particular tune other than the two — "Alison," "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding" — that close the set, you've set yourself up for disappointment.
In the time it took me to type this review, he may have written another. Costello's catalog is the ground upon which he clops. And for some, it's the reason to head out on a cold Wednesday night.
But he has for years given the impression that the next song is, for him, the carrot.
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