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Elvis Costello's second album was called This Year's Model, and that was, among other things, a comment on the insecurities of the trendy world of popular music, in which this year's commercial hit or critical favorite is next year's forgotten reject.
One person who's been forgotten recently is Graham Parker, and ironically enough, the "model" that pushed him into obsolescence was Mr. Costello. Until the hipper rock critics clasped Mr. Costello to their collective bosoms as the world's great white rock‐and‐roll hope, they had been clasping Mr. Parker.
Mr. Parker's eclipse may not have been because of any failing on his part, however, or even because Mr. Costello is so wonderful. Mr. Parker accuses his former record company, Mercury, which he thinks failed to advance his career properly. In fact, Mr. Parker is so exercised that he's written a song about the subject, called "Mercury Poisoning." It hasn't been formally released, and isn't likely to be. But his new label, Arista, has seen to it that promotional copies are in abundant supply.
This is not an unprecedented maneuver — after all, the Sex Pistols gave us "EMI," a number cataloguing their complaints about that company. But "Mercury Poisoning" happens to be Mr. Parker's best song in a long time (to fulfill his Mercury contract, he cranked out an indifferent live album last year that helped shift critics' attentions to Mr. Costello). It's angry and passionate and exciting, and it would be nice if the general public could hear it.
In the meantime, there is Mr. Parker's first Arista album to contend with. It's called Squeezing Out Sparks — a comment on the difficulties of sustaining inspiration? — and although nothing on it has the immediate impact of "Mercury Poisoning," it's still Mr. Parker's best album in a while.
Both Mr. Parker and Mr. Costello have sometimes seemed to limit their effectiveness (and their commercial appeal) by concentrating excessively on angry denunciation — in other words, to confuse focus with a lack of range. But on this new album, Mr. Parker shows a commendable ability to vary his musical mood and textures, which he is able to do in part because he has a more flexible voice than Mr. Costello. The lyrics here are interesting and trenchant, and the music can be tough and rocking or softer and more overtly tender than Mr. Parker has allowed himself to be before.
One ostensible love song, though, suggests that the fury of "Mercury Poisoning" may be misplaced. The refrain is, "Nobody hurts you, other than yourself." If that's true, why get so upset with Mercury?
While all of this has been going on, Mr. Costello has hardly been idle; Mr. Costello seems never to be idle. He's due at the Palladium on March 31 and will engage in a three‐club marathon on April Fool's Day, one set to a club, with tickets sold through a lottery organized by WNEW‐FM. And Columbia has just released a single from his Armed Forces album, Nick Lowe's "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding." Those who already have the album may still be interested in the B‐side, which consists of his one minute, 25 second, cavernously sincere account of "My Funny Valentine," the Rodgers and Hart staple that about every singer of the previous generation recorded at one time or another. Shades of the late Sid Vicious's "My Way" or Bryan Ferry's mordant oldies remakes.
Still on the British new‐wave front, we have Ian Dury's latest single, which is available on the Stiff label in import shops and recently climbed to No. 1 in Britain (to be knocked off by Blondie's "Heart of Glass"; that estimable New York new‐wave band held the No. 1 spots on both the singles and albums chart in England for more than a month and seems finally to be breaking through in this country, as well).
The Dury disk is called "Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick." Mr. Dury's scabrous Cockney persona is perhaps an acquired taste, but this writer and many other enthusiasts have acquired it with a vengeance. Let it simply be said that in this new song, Mr. Dury hasn't exactly mellowed out; it would be !overly to see him in America again, soon.
In some critical quarters in Britain the latest "new model" is not the antiquated Mr. Costello, but a newcomer named Joe Jackson, whose first album, Look Sharp!, has just been released in the United States by A & M. Mr. Jackson lacks the monochromatic anger of Mr. Parker and Mr. Costello, which might seem all to the good. In fact, he does have a wit and appeal that sometimes recall Ray Davies. But so far, at least, he doesn't seem able to sustain his inspiration over a whole album.
Speaking of Mr. Davies, the Kinks have become the latest veteran rockers to stick a timid toe into the disco turbulence. The band's new single, "Superman," is straight disco and cleverly successful disco, at that.
Which is more than can be said for the Beach Boys' initial foray into the disco arena. It's called "Here Comes the Night" and lasts nearly 11 minutes on the band's new L.A. (Light Album) record. "Here Comes the Night" (not to be confused with the Bruce Springsteen/Patti Smith "Because the Night") is at least in theory an interesting attempt to blend one era's mindless pop hedonism with another's — the thudding disco beat with the fun‐fun‐fun signature harmonies of the Beach Boys.
In practice, however, the disco arrangement is particularly leaden and unimaginative. Maybe this will become a hit record anyhow.
An American new‐wave band called the Contortions has also "gone disco," but in an angrily satiric manner. In fact, the group approaches everything angrily, including new‐wave rock and its world. James Chance, the band's leader, is so angry he makes Mr. Parker and Mr. Costello sound like Eagles.
Anyway, on a 12‐inch, 45‐rpm single released on a French label (and available once again at import stores), the Contortions call themselves James White and the Blacks — the same name under which they lip‐synched their way through this disk and others of their beloved hits at Irving Plaza recently. They treat their fans to their disco song, "Contort Yourself," plus a snappy run‐through of Irving Berlin's "(Tropical) Heat Wave." Shades of "My Funny Valentine," and weird, man, weird...
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