|
Never one to mince words, Elvis Costello opens Spike by declaring, "You're nobody till everybody in this town (presumably Los Angeles) knows you're poison." Then he tries to live down to that reputation.
The result isn't a rock album as much as it is a recording of novelettes sung — mostly with eclectic phrasing — to music that recalls influences as diverse as Cab Calloway, James Brown and Steeleye Span.
If you're willing to fight your way through it, this record — Costello's first in 2½ years — proves to be an especially worthwhile venture. But before the average listener sees the beauty of Spike, he is more likely to think Costello is poison.
No one, however, must be reminded that Costello is among the best rock lyricists of the day and one of the few who even tries to write cogent songs about such diverse topics as an Alzheimer's disease victim ("Veronica"), capital punishment (the ominous "Let Him Dangle"), a heavenly look at Earth (the showtune-like "God's Comic") and a father going off to war ("Last Boat Leaving").
Costello's view of God viewing us is particularly interesting: "Sometimes you confuse me with Santa Claus / It's the big white beard, I suppose."
He describes God sitting on a waterbed, drinking a cola, reading a cheap paperback and listening to an Andrew Lloyd Webber song. Then he continues, "I've been wading through all this unbelievable junk and wondering if I should have given the world to the monkeys."
In "Tramp the Dirt Down," he trashes British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher: "When England was the whore of the world / Margaret was her madam / And the future looked as clear and bright as the black-tar macadam." On the death penalty, he states flatly: "It won't make you even / it won't bring him back."
His positions may not be entirely popular, but Costello deserves much credit for forcing his audience to think.
The same can be said, although not always as positively, for his music.
On past albums, Costello had strong melodies to augment his venomous lyrics. Here, "...This Town..." and "Veronica," the latter co-written with Paul McCartney, are the only songs with clearly defined tunes. Both have that "big" Elvis beat that builds till the song sounds like it wants to burst.
The rest of the music is either out of character — which is acceptable and often interesting — or out of sorts.
"Pads, Paws and Claws," the other song written with McCartney, sounds like something Cab Calloway could have written or The Stray Cats would have penned if they had any talent. It has an off-beat swing that becomes appealing after repeated listenings.
"Tramp the Dirt Down" and "Any King's Shilling" both have soft Irish accompaniment, which works on "Tramp" but leaves the latter too airy. The same can be said of "Baby Plays Around," a "My Funny Valentine" cousin in sound though not in message. And "Chewing Gum," on which Costello plays the part of the Godfather of Soul, sounds more than a little out of control. When he admonishes "take that chewing gum out of your ears," he doesn't sound entirely rational.
On that song, like most of the others, Costello seems to have no interest in meter or rhymes. Some lines have too few words, many have too many, and the off-beat is standard operating procedure.
Yet the splendor of Spike is that even after a hundred listens, the buyer will be able to find nuances that weren't apparent before. This music grows — which is so much more than can be said about most rock today.
| 
