London Times, October 15, 1978: Difference between revisions
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The billboard has already gone, but everybody agrees it was great while it lasted. For two weeks it stood there hidden under canvas — just to keep people guessing — before being unveiled to reveal a portrait of the singer, perhaps 30 times larger than life, crouched behind a camera, as if taking note of the industry barons and tastemakers cruising below on Sunset Strip. Great impact — in spite of it being removed, by some unfortunate quirk of planning, a week before the singer himself arrived in Los Angeles. | The billboard has already gone, but everybody agrees it was great while it lasted. For two weeks it stood there hidden under canvas — just to keep people guessing — before being unveiled to reveal a portrait of the singer, perhaps 30 times larger than life, crouched behind a camera, as if taking note of the industry barons and tastemakers cruising below on Sunset Strip. Great impact — in spite of it being removed, by some unfortunate quirk of planning, a week before the singer himself arrived in Los Angeles. | ||
But still there are enough reminders of his presence. At the Whiskey-A-Go-Go, the club on the Strip where the music is loudest and the gloom most stygian, patrons are able to feast themselves on the Elvis Costello Special — a dish that turns out to be nothing more exotic than fish and chips — while across the street a record shop offers prizes to the customers who can dress most like him. With his swept-back hair, horn-rimmed glasses and ill-fitting budget suits — a look best described as early Sixties impoverished filing-clerk — Costello is easily parodied. "That competition is nothing to do with us," snorts his manager, Jake Riviera. "It's bloody annoying. It makes Elvis look like some kind of geek. Just because nobody else in California wears a tie they behave as if he comes from outer space. It's his songs they should be emphasising. That's what's important." | But still there are enough reminders of his presence. At the Whiskey-A-Go-Go, the club on the Strip where the music is loudest and the gloom most stygian, patrons are able to feast themselves on the Elvis Costello Special — a dish that turns out to be nothing more exotic than fish and chips — while across the street a record shop offers prizes to the customers who can dress most like him. With his swept-back hair, horn-rimmed glasses and ill-fitting budget suits — a look best described as early Sixties impoverished filing-clerk — Costello is easily parodied. "That competition is nothing to do with us," snorts his manager, Jake Riviera. "It's bloody annoying. It makes Elvis look like some kind of geek. Just because nobody else in California wears a tie they behave as if he comes from outer space. It's his songs they should be emphasising. ''That's'' what's important." | ||
Costello and his group, the Attractions, are staying at the Tropicana Motel, an establishment that prides itself on its rock music clientele. It is cheap ($12 a night, no breakfast) but atmospheric: | Costello and his group, the Attractions, are staying at the Tropicana Motel, an establishment that prides itself on its rock music clientele. It is cheap ($12 a night, no breakfast) but atmospheric: |