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Elvis Costello is the chameleon of the music world. Part Buddy Holly and part Lou Reed, he’s clever and coy, curt and often caustic. He’s always cued into pop culture’s need for night-clubs, drugs and controversy, and forever consumed by the American cowboy and his country music. And, of course, he’s Elvis Costello.
While the Elvis before him (Presley) is credited by some with popularizing rock as we know it (and I’m making a generalization – so lay off, music nerds). Costello crafted a truly distinct sound that blends folk, punk, club and classic rock ‘n’ roll, with full business-chic attire.
In essence, Costello’s skinny black ties, thick matching eyeglasses, and thin grey pseudo-suits are as much a part of his rock ‘n’roll persona as his squawking voicebox.
From the start, his new compilation, Rock and Roll Music, is an awkward arrow of Costello’s turn-of-the-70s caw aimed straight at the heart of his 1978 album This Year’s Model. Five of the seven tracks are a model of Costello’s early verbal disgust and discontent, which include a multitude of ambiguously punk/club/new-wave and plain rockin’ tracks such as “Lipstick Vogue,” “No Action,” “(I Don’t Want To Go To) Chelsea,” “This Year’s Girl” and the critical club hit “Pump It Up”.
Sadly lacking from Costello’s collection of rock is his anti-establishment anthem “Radio, Radio.” As a Saturday Night Live fill-in for famed punkers The Sex Pistols, Costello made SNL history when he, against producers’ wishes, stopped his band short in the beginning of “Less Than Zero” before going into a wildly menacing version of the song that pissed all over corporate radio and TV. Sinead O’Connor’s later antics concerning a picture of the pope were undoubtedly inspired by Costello’s stunt. Incidentally, Costello was banned from SNL for 12 years following.
While the record is an energetic reminder of one of the many roots of rock, this compilation plays more as a “Best of Elvis Costello B-Sides” than a truly kick-ass rock album, lacking much of the political wit for which Costello is so well known. Rock and Roll Music serves as a point of contention for Costello, a kind of mid-life crisis, a rock ‘n’ roll Corvette that’s rusted around the wheel wells, if you will.
Still, this is an album of past growth and a record of Costello’s chronology as a musician, a lover and a rebel with a cause. Considering that Costello wrote sad and powerful love ballads such as “Good Year for the Roses,” (Almost Blue, 1981) and “Indoor Fireworks.” (King of America, 1986), this latest compilation tends to embrace much more formative feelings that are equated with young lust and love. Nowhere is Costello’s fresh frustration verbalized more than on “Miracle Man,” a Stones-fluxed song from his 1977 debut Aim is True. The song not only has the sex appeal of Keith Richards’ wet dreams, but the lyrics put it all in miserable perspective as a tinny, bratty Costello croons: “Why do you have to say that there’s always someone who can do it better than I can?/But don’t you think that I know that walking on water won’t make me a miracle man?”
Include pontifical political and social pleas such as “Clean Money” and “Wednesday Week” (Taking Liberties, 1980), “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding” (Armed Forces, 1978) and previously unreleased demo “Welcome to the Working Week,” and this album serves as a well-rounded example of young Costello’s zeal for confrontation in the work-a-day world.
Rock And Roll Music is a refreshing take on an aging Elvis, especially for those of us who were burdened with the insufferable Burt Bacharach-era of Costello songwriting. While Costello is still a collection genius with a knack for all sorts of eclectic music stylings supported by his oft-worrisome vocals, there is something even more edgy and wicked – both in his singing and in his striking, skinny appearance – that makes him so much more suitable for good old-fashioned rock ‘n’ roll. And this album provides a pretty good musical picture of what that should be.
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