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| [[Tim Holmes]] reviews ''[[Trust]]. | | [[Tim Holmes]] reviews ''[[Trust]]. |
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| | Before anyone’s even had the chance to burp after digesting ''Taking Liberties'' and ''Get Happy!!'' rock’s most compulsive malcontent shouts yet again upon our collective chest, funnel in hand, pouring another piping helping of his murky complaint fillled stew. Setting aside his potentially endearing qualities for a second, the sheer accelerating tonnage of his recent recorded output (54 tunes released domestically in the past year) compels us to ask: “What is this man going on about? Why does he set it to music? Can’t he go to the bathroom without writing a song about it? Here’s a man obviously driven by the need to communicate, yet his intentions are continually obscured by this obsession with the baroque filigree of mundane detail. He gives us endless examples of personal minutiae, in themselves quite lucid, but the fragments never coalesce. If one were to take a machete to this thorny gnarled forest of non-stop verbiage one still might never slice to the core of Elvis Costello. He will not say what he means and appears willing to go to great lengths in order not to say it. |
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| | His latest disc, “''Trust''” continues this |
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Revision as of 01:11, 11 December 2016
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Elvis Costello
Palladium, New York
Regina Stephanzo
The lights go down as the crowd roars in expectation and approbation. Onto the stage walks the entertainer, a lone point of light isolating him from the surrounding darkness. The lovely, lonely strains of an organ waft out and the entertainer launches into his opening ballad: "'Cause the moments that I can't recall / Are the moments that you treasure... Losing you is just a memory / Memories don't mean that much to me."
The moment is timeless. It could be 1945 at the Brooklyn Paramount or 1981 at the Palladium. It could be Frank Sinatra or Elvis Costello. And that's the whole point. After launching his career with songs written on pure bile, fueled by guilt and revenge; after fronting a speedy, hard-bitten band who pushed themselves past the limit in song after song, just to keep up; after exploring a different facet of pop music consciousness on each of five albums — Elvis Costello has reached a point beyond classification. He has become the master song stylist, the poet, the common conscience and common consciousness. He is the complete and consummate popular artist.
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Trust
Elvis Costello & The Attractions
Tim Holmes
Before anyone’s even had the chance to burp after digesting Taking Liberties and Get Happy!! rock’s most compulsive malcontent shouts yet again upon our collective chest, funnel in hand, pouring another piping helping of his murky complaint fillled stew. Setting aside his potentially endearing qualities for a second, the sheer accelerating tonnage of his recent recorded output (54 tunes released domestically in the past year) compels us to ask: “What is this man going on about? Why does he set it to music? Can’t he go to the bathroom without writing a song about it? Here’s a man obviously driven by the need to communicate, yet his intentions are continually obscured by this obsession with the baroque filigree of mundane detail. He gives us endless examples of personal minutiae, in themselves quite lucid, but the fragments never coalesce. If one were to take a machete to this thorny gnarled forest of non-stop verbiage one still might never slice to the core of Elvis Costello. He will not say what he means and appears willing to go to great lengths in order not to say it.
His latest disc, “Trust” continues this
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