It's a curious time in Elvis Costello's career for him to headline his first Madison Square Garden show (as he did Saturday night). Commercially, he's seen greener days: in the late '70s, with near-platinum albums like Armed Forces, or with his 1989 semi-comeback LP, Spike the Entertainer, which went gold. (By contrast, his latest, Mighty Like a Rose, is withering on the charts).
Culturally, as well, Costello is no longer leading a cutting-edge movement, having been promoted years ago from the role of punk's smartest young man to the more distancing mantle of (by critical consensus) "the best songwriter of his generation."
But if the Garden gig didn't represent a breakthrough, it stood as a cumulative acknowledgment of Costello's enduring importance; the pop equivalent of being awarded a gold watch.
Luckily, nothing in the show itself suggested such backward thinking.
In fact, this was the first Costello performance in New York to concern itself almost entirely with his most recent work. Only half a dozen treasured oldies were offered up (far fewer than usual). To boot, old faves like "Accidents Will Happen" and "Pump It Up" were relegated to the very start and close of the two-hour performance.
In between, Costello stressed the slower, more reflective work of his last two albums, like the delicate "Harpies Bizarre" or the sophisticated "God's Comic."
That doesn't mean the show was any less exciting or moving than those of the past. Far from it. Reflecting the more nuanced vocals of his recent work, the Garden show found Costello in more glorious voice than any performance I've witnessed during his 14-year career.
His newer material may often lack the foam-at-the-mouth attack of his earliest work, but he makes up for that with richer modulation and more controlled passion. This was especially obvious on songs like "Deep Dark Truthful Mirror," where Costello sang with firm resolve, or "So Like Candy," where he captured the wounded tone of an obsession long endured.
Despite such darkly passionate moments, Costello's stage demeanor remained affable and self-deprecating. With his heavy beard and greater girth, he looked like a cross between Grizzly Adams and Allen Ginsberg, underlining his odd role as an elder statesman at 37.
No doubt some in the crowd would have liked more allusions to the younger Elvis.
But it was hard to complain when he could find such fresh ways to approach even an older song like "Temptation." By turning its Memphis-style R & B riff inside out, Costello gave the song a Dylanesque grandeur.
All elder statesmen should be so thrillingly spry.
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