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Elvis Costello, once hailed as the "angry young man" of rock, is a pussycat.
The famous horn-rimmed glasses are history. The bitter stare has been replaced by a thoughtful, if not pensive, gaze. The political leanings, well — they must have leaned too far and fallen over.
Such is the state of Declan McManus (a.k.a. Elvis) in the year 1983.
In a way, it's too bad. I remember the good old days. Rebel, break tradition, antagonize, offend and defend — wasn't it grand?
Costello was the Bob Dylan of the seventies. He sang, we listened. He told us of a world beyond the abysmal clap-trap we've grown to despise.
My, how things change.
But you know something? I kind of like the new Elvis Costello.
His music has taken on a subtle warmth. Punch The Clock, Costello's latest release, comes as close to "intimate" as anything I've heard him perform in the past. In a way, I sense the man is opening himself up — as though he's shrugged off the coldness that marked his previous work.
To hard-core fans, such a transition may come as a bit of a surprise. After all, Elvis is Elvis, right? He always did keep us at a distance.
The rare thing about Elvis Costello is that the further he kept us away, the closer we felt to him. Sort of a weird twist of emotional logic, but nonetheless very real to those of us who admire the man.
On Punch The Clock Costello has progressed to a more fluid, brassier sound. The basics are pretty much the same, but he's added fullness — richness, if you will — to the sparse instrumentation of the past.
In addition, Elvis has included a pair of backup singers (the Afrodiziaks — no relation to the Balcziaks, I'm afraid) who truly enhance the vocal intensity on a couple of songs.
Many of the changes are welcome, but I have to cringe at Costello's semi-clumsy soul arrangements in "Everyday I Write The Book" and "T.K.O." There's no denying that Elvis Costello is as soulful a singer as the next fellow, but the quality of his voice tends to get washed-out at times.
An aspect of Costello's music that witnessed a more subtle change is his songwriting. No longer is Elvis the rabid political animal he once was. The lofty idealism of his classics (My Aim Is True, Armed Forces and This Year's Model) has been replaced by a toned-down (polite?) display of cynicism.
Cynicism is nothing new to Elvis Costello. However, it's unnerving to hear the man use such a low-key approach to his subject matter. I wonder what he can be thinking of?
Despite my misgivings about the "new" Elvis, I'm still astounded by his songwriting ability. That hasn't faltered a bit.
On his latest album, Costello employs straightforward themes and exploits them to their full capacity.
In "The Invisible Man," Costello takes a potshot at the media by suggesting: "I was committed to life and then commuted to the outskirts / living for thirty minutes at a time with a break in the middle for adverts / never mind there's a good film showing tonight / where they hang everyone everybody who can read and write."
Good stuff, Maynard.
"Love Went Mad" is an effective portrayal of the topsy-turvy lifestyle of woebegone couples. Pardon my trashy summarization of the song. I'll let Costello take over: "You're a big cheese now in the workhouse / with these vulgar fractions of the treble clef / I wish you luck with a capital 'F'."
Boldness and vitality is not absent from Punch The Clock. Indeed, Costello appears to have been Inspired by the coloration of his music — much in the same fashion as his response to the depressing country overtones of Almost Blue. This results in a highly cohesive group of melodies.
The one trap Costello has refused to fall into is that of repetition and monotony. He keeps the pace of the album uneven, which in this case works quite well.
"Shipbuilding" is an incredibly intense work, despite its slow tempo. The song exudes the strongest qualities of a singer like Elvis Costello. His ability to deliver a soulful dirge is uncanny.
Overall, Punch The Clock is not Elvis Costello's best album. It's a shame I have to write that. By any performer's standards such an album would be a masterpiece. But not Elvis. He's done better, and will do better.
However I'll take this factory-second over thousands of other "best" performances by lesser talents.
Give me wire-rims over grossly overstuffed bulges anytime.
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