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Costello / Talking 'bout the man who won't talk
Greg Taylor
"I don't see any point in talking about the past... I mean, I haven't just learnt the guitar in the last ten minutes, but I'm not going to get talking about what I've done.
"Nobody showed any interest in me then. If you weren't there, you missed it. The people who were there then either appreciated it or they didn't. As far as I'm concerned, it's pointless talking about the past. Fuck It. I'd just rather talk about the future, you know."
— June '77
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A year later he'd about given up talking to the media about everything. In mid '79 he had to give his side of the story when the shit hit the fan in America over racist remarks in a drunken bar room brawl. But there's been nowt since, and one feels that it's less mystique-creating than an active loathing of the publicity process. Tales of roughed up journalists became routine: Elvis and his aggro manager were a vicious little pair, as their Oz promoters found to their cost in one of these dressing room fracas.
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"He doesn't do interviews 'cause all he's got to say is in his songs."
— Jake Riviera (real name, Andrew Jakeman), manager of Elvis Costello (real name Declan MacManus)
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There's at least eighty songs up for consideration. Five albums in just over four years, plus large numbers of B-sides, and alternate versions, most of which wound up on Taking Liberties late last year. (Available in Australia only through import.) Others may be as prolific: no one over the same period has put out so little filler. When Get Happy!! came out last year, some reviewers complained there were too many ideas crammed onto one piece of vinyl, that he dropped a song just as the listener was getting the hang of it. But Costello reckons if it's worth saying, it's worth saying in under three minutes.
Even if you knew nothing about the man and hadn't got around to the lyrics, his tone of voice establishes what he's basically on about. Honey drenched in acid-sweet corrosion, poured skillfully over romance, politics, fashion, and all the other spawning grounds of presumption, lies and futility. Like Don Van Vliet, this is a man with a beef in his heart.
Sometimes the object of his disaffection is obscure or disjointed — love "King Horse," dunno what it means — while occasionally it's so pointedly personal that thereafter certain individuals will only think of E.C. with rage and shame. Will the real "Alison" please stand up and take a bow with the other "Party Girl"?
Though like any writer from the U.K. who's got any relevance Costello is aware of the anarchy/ totalitarianism lurking just beyond the breakup of the two moribund political parties — check "Less Than Zero," "Night Rally," "Oliver's Army" — he's not offering any solutions; not even with "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding."
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"I don't sit around wondering how people see the world, or how they feel about things. I don't attempt to express their feelings. I only write about the way I feel.
"I mean, I'm not arbitrator of public taste or opinion. I don't have a following of people who are waiting around for my next word, I hope I never have that kind of following.
"People should be waiting for their own next word. Not mine."
— June '77
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The way I feel... Back in the days when interviews were still cool, Costello told Nick Kent:
"The only two things that matter to me, the only motivation points for all these songs, are revenge and guilt. Those are the only two emotions I know about, that I know I can feel. "Love? I dunno what it means, really, and it doesn't exist in my songs."
That was way back in August '77, and like a number of his other provocative pronouncements ("America has never produced one decent home-grown rock and roll band") it's hung about in most subsequent commentary on its author. Now, not many of us like to be held to what we said ten minutes ago, let alone three years back when we'd just released our first album to bulk acclaim after being turned down by all the major companies. Even if those sentiments are still important to Costello, even if he really writes from his ulcer, it's only what gets him started. The result — the finished product sparkling from the speakers — frequently buries the hatchet in music that makes you feel good.
If there's a paradox in expressing anger, alienation or vicious obsession in a beguiling form, music can ignore it: how often have you hummed a tune without knowing or caring what the words were? Costello is very hummable; look at Linda Ronstadt's renditions of his songs, where only the great melodies — none of the sense — has survived. But unless Costello is a robot, writing must give him satisfaction and beauty must please him — why else sing so good? So it's kind of strange that none of his work celebrates. Or is there a complete human being lurking behind the one-dimensional mask?
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"Believe It or not, Elvis is one of the kindest, most considerate men I've ever met. He's not surly, he's just shy, and he's had a hard time dealing with success. He was so used to being rejected that he didn't know how to deal with people when they started to like him.
"We were like a rock 'n' roll Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart — all mad love and respect, the debutante and the rock 'n' roll geek. Elvis treated me like a princess — breaking up with him was the biggest hurt I ever had."
— Bebe "Girlfriend of the Stars" Buell. October '80.
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"Girl, I stand accused, people say I love you
All I need is a touch from your hand /
Find myself on the witness stand /
I've been living a lie, girl /
Got a love that won't die, girl..."
"I Stand Accused" (Get Happy!!)
Bebe's making her own records now, and Elvis is back with his wife and child. "I Stand Accused" is his most overt declaration for affection; but elsewhere he's shown a fine capacity for regret — "Just A Memory" and "Motel Matches" are two of his most poignant songs. Clearly the man is capable of love, but not its illusions — check the scarifying self-honesty of "New Lace Sleeves" (from the new album, Trust): "Bad lovers face to face in the morning / Shy apologies and polite regrets / Slow dancers that left no warning / Irate glances and indiscreet yawning / Good manners and bad breath / Get you nowhere ..."
Costello's original title for his third album was Emotional Fascism: he got talked out of it — "But can the kids dance to it, El?" — and drummer Pete Thomas came up with Armed Forces. But the original said heaps.
Many people decry the looseness with which the word "fascism" is bandied around: perhaps its historical application — to the political systems of Hitler and Mussolini — is lost when applied to any forceful authority that one happens to disagree with. But its language root gives it an even wider potential. Fascis — Latin for the bundle of clubs, insignia of a ceremonial Roman guard corps. When reason fails, beat people into compliance with your emotions.
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Remaining text and scanner-error corrections to come...
Single Of The Week
Kent Goddard
Elvis Costello & The Attractions
Clubland / Clean Money / Hoover Factory
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Taken from the little four-eyed nurd's soon-to-be-released Trust album, "Clubland" proves that Elvis has it all over Charles Aznavour. Though he still hasn't achieved the overall excellence of Chuck's 20 Great Love Songs album. Seriously though, this is the best thing I've heard since the story about the Irish rock 'n' roll assassin who gunned down Barry Manilow. On a lighter note, Elvis and the boys have done it again with a brooding powerhouse ode to the nightlife, and if it's Elvis' party why can't he cry? There's bound to be plenty, like me, who'll shed tears and money for him. Verdict: with no qualifications — great! But what else did you expect from him?
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Taking Liberties
Elvis Costello
Nick Kent
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Intriguing to see the way this album has been reviewed by other periodicals so far. Short and snappy, the assessment has usually been vague but favourable. One aspect of Liberties' release however is that, with twenty items from the Costello songbook spanning some four prolific years, the harried Costello fan can pause and actually weigh up the pros and cons of the man's work to date.
All eras are showcased here. The earliest Costello (as opposed to D P MacManus) recordings like "Radio Sweetheart" and "Stranger in the House" that were, for one reason or another, left off My Aim Is True, certain of El plus the Attractions' first forays — "Chelsea", "Night Rally" (both to be annexed from the U.K. cassette-only version released Nov 7 where "Watching The Detectives," "Radio, Radio" will take their place whilst "Peace, Love & Understanding" also replaces "Sunday's Best") and "Big Tears" from the Model sessions whilst "Tiny Steps," "Clean Money," "Crawling To The USA," "Wednesday Week" and "Talking In The Dark" are all out-takes from the Armed Forces sessions. Finally, Costello-produced items like alternative cuts of "Black & White World" and "Clowntime Is Over" join ranks with marginally post-Get Happy recordings like "Gettin' Mighty Crowded," "Just a Memory," "Ghost Train," "Dr Luther's Assistant," "Girls Talk," and "Hoover Factory," not forgetting the exquisite reading of "My Funny Valentine."
The actual editing-together of this sprawl of obsessive virtuosity is worth giving a ten out of ten to, because it balances out the numerous stylistic deviations and pinpoints certain striking inconsistencies.
Where the earliest cuts — "Radio Sweetheart" and "Stranger In The House" — have not merely retained their initial clout but now sound even better, a lot of the Armed Forces era stuff — "Wednesday Week," "Sunday's Best," "Talking In The Dark" ring false, being far too busy and over convoluted. Elvis once stated that his biggest fear was of "repeating himself in diminishing echoes" and the sad fact is that these songs are the sound of a man feverishly pushing himself on to avoid the long downward spiral of self-parody.
Of course, this should not betaken as a generalisation — "Chelsea," like "Detectives" and most of the Model tracks for that matter, is a stunning creation with the Attractions providing a devastatingly cock-sure back-up. Even when the songs are second-rate — "Crawling To The USA" and "Clean Money" — the Attractions bring the hammer down with a vengeance.
The self-produced songs are possibly Liberties' strongest suit for release. Costello slows down "Clowntime Is Over," strips away all superfluous embellishments and presents one with a song that, like "Motel Matches" and "New Amsterdam," demonstrates just how easy it is to ignore a brilliant song under the sheer tonnage of material available. Here, Costello hasn't lost a thing. He's better than ever, the underlying fear of inspiration being drained, forcing him to metamorphose into what Danny Baker described as "a piano wire drawn so tight that to release, could result in an almighty snap."
"Hoover Factory" — the only truly original and hitherto unobtainable item included here — addresses Costello's own hang-up with a poignancy and grace that undermines that "snap" factor. "It's not a matter of life or death / What is? what is? / It doesn't matter if I take another breath / Who cares? who cares?" croons Costello. voicing his essential credo. There is the same resignation here that characterised "Alison" and "Just a Memory," that same tinge of sadness that ultimately grants Costello the human factor he's sometimes tried to dash against those feverish outbursts which now form his own caricature. Liberties' release could be purely down to financial matters, the Columbia record deal and all that that might entail but I seriously doubt it. I'm glad I've got the record end I don't feel shortchanged. I see no reason why you should feel differently.
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Rock Australia Magazine, No. 154, March 6, 1981
Greg Taylor profiles Elvis Costello and reviews Trust.
Paolo Hewitt profiles EC and reports on the Christmas Show, Dec. 27, 1980, Birmingham. (excerpt from Melody Maker, Jan. 3, 1981.)
Kent Goddard reviews "Clubland," named Single Of The Week.
Nick Kent reviews Taking Liberties. (from NME, Oct. 11, 1980.)
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Page scans.
Cover photo by Keith Morris.
Trust
Elvis Costello & The Attractions
Greg Taylor
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The title is not betrayed. If you believe Costello to be one of the best singers, and most important songwriters around, this fifth album (or sixth, counting Taking Liberties) will reaffirm the faith; If you've reservations, take a chance on them being obliterated. If you can't stand the man, move on, 'cause there's no concessions here.
On the other hand there's less malice — and the doubts and criticisms are as much aimed at himself as other people. "He come without warning and leaves without feeling / Shot with his own gun / Now daddy's keeping mum ... / The little corporal got in the way / And he got hit by an emotional ricochet / It's a bit more now than dressing up dolly / Playing house seems so melancholy" — if "Shot With His Own Gun" doesn't have reference to Costello's marital comings-and-goings, I'll eat this review. And the lyrics from "New Lace Sleeves" quoted on page 20 don't spare the author — how many pop stars (or even real people) talk about sexual failings?
This doesn't mean the fires have been banked: the opening single, "Clubland," lashes out with more barely-controlled fury than anything since This Year's Model. A strange target for a performer: the plight of a perpetual audience? "Thursday to Saturday / Money's gone already / Something's gone uncalm these days / Your hands at work unsteady / ... Have you ever been had in Clubland?"
Frequently, mate; but something always sucks you back. Not, however, "Lovers Walk," which is interesting — all tribal drums and grinding bass, with one of Nieve's weirder piano parts, sort of Russ Conway plays Bo Diddley — but not a favourite. "Luxembourg" is likewise exuberant but hardly vintage, with producer Nick Lowe chasing the ultimate parody of the old Sun echo chamber sound; Robert Gordon still has this sort of rockabeatingboogie staked out against all corners.
These are the only two disposables. "You'll Never Be A Man" piles image on good image while "Pretty Words" has the light touch that last appeared on Armed Forces, and more compelling lines — "There's not much choice / between a cruel mouth and a careless voice."
"Watch Your Step" could almost be a segue from last year's "Secondary Modern": a deceptively gentle premonition of neighbourhoods at war, families informing on each other at the behest of ward leaders who "say it's good for business."
"New Lace Sleeves"' agonised morning-after appraisal has the cold comfort of "Even presidents have newspaper lovers / And ministers go crawling under covers," and works over familiar Costello themes of the white lies that are feeling's only armour. A superb track, followed by another winner in the big-beat "From A Whisper To A Scream," which features guest appearances The Rumour's guitarist Martin Belmont and U.K. Squeeze's Glenn Tilbrook trading vocals in fine style with Costello. "Different Finger" sees Costello uncorking the George Jones / Gram Parsons admiration in a beautiful little country styling. Five'll get you ten that you'll hear a Nashville cover of this: "I don't want to hear your whole life story / Or about my resemblance to some old flame / All I want is one night of glory / I don't even know your second name" — I'm cryin' in my beer already.
"White Knuckles" is as savage as its title hints: "Losing face with the boys while she's whispering in his ear / Never found out why they called it laughing gear / White knuckles on black and blue skin / Didn't mean to hit her, but she kept laughing..." "Fish 'N' Chip Paper" is one of those Costello souffles of bon mot that goes down too smoothly to worry about meaning, and "Big Sister's Clothes," the sombre closing number isn't revealing much. But then, Costello's "meaning" goes straight into the bloodstream: the stomach pump of analysis won't retrieve the message.
And what slips it through the membrane is the music. Inevitably some of it sounds familiar, but the melodies are still endlessly inventive, and Lowe has pulled off one of his best production stints. The Attractions are at their peak, especially Bruce Thomas his best sound ever (finally, a new amp?), and Steve Nieve, who has returned to heavily to piano after his Booker T type organ fling on Get Happy!!. He's still the classical prodigy working in a band for holiday money: but he'll never get back to the Conservatorium, 'cause Elvis wants his instant counterpoint.
Costello's voice Is slowly getting deeper and fuller; going back to the first album the changes are striking. Always accurate, always passionate — just like his perceptions. You don't have to like him to trust that.
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Page scan.
Elvis Costello up close
Paolo Hewitt
Paolo Hewitt at a recent Birmingham gig
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1980 was the year that Elvis Costello finally broke all ties with the music business and went alone.
He recorded an album of 20 songs with no fuss, that drew strongly upon a rich Sixties soul heritage but he didn't let it show. His trademark was all over the place and the influences never got in the way. Soon after its release, he went and did what all those brave punk bands said they'd do: play small places which aren't usually played.
Then he disappeared, popping up only to play a Rainbow anniversary gig, release a superb single, "Clubland" (which is currently doing zilch sales wise) and play a massive gig like this one tonight.
It's exactly that kind of unpredictable behaviour which keeps the interest and adrenalin moving.
An infuriating blend of both good and bad. I love him when he’s upsetting all pre-conceptions including his snubbing of the music press, which didn't take full page ads to do, remaining completely unpredictable, and writing classics like "King Horse."
I hate him when he's perpetuating big gigs like these and riding about in flash Greyhound buses which contributes and encourages the whole Chelsea scene he once reviled so viciously.
Obviously, with Elvis you can't have your cake and eat it, one side has to balance out the other, and to be perfectly honest when he took the stage Saturday night I petulantly hated his guts for not talking to me and encouraging backward gigs like these.
After he left the stage Saturday night, I thought him one of the most marvellous things I'd seen all year.
Steve Nieve with dramatically short hair and shades, took the stage first and hit some dramatic piano chords to introduce Elvis and a new song called "Shot By His Own Gun," a typical Costello composition, with flashing imagery and dominant theme to hold it all together.
Elvis himself looked chuffed and happy at the reception he received, letting out a quick smug smile before the rest of the band joined him and launched into "Hi Fidelity," one of the best neo-Motown songs of the Seventies.
After that it was new material, some of which was announced, and a lot more that wasn't. With new material, of course, it's hard to make snap judgements, but one comment from a rare interview of his kept coming back.
"I won't be around to watch my own decline," I remember him once sneering, and by the quality on show he's definitely keeping to his word.
One number, based around a sparse drum-beat and the simplest of riffs, matched easily such achievements as "Green Shirt," whilst the marvellous "Clubland" came over with archetypal venom and intensity.
Standing there watching Elvis Costello, though is half the fun of it all. Costello's movements are so awkward, his jerky, awkward guitar playing never looks so sync with the music; his head bobbing constantly, it seems impossible for him to be actually playing.
And how he gets so worked up delivering some of his more obscure lyrics is beyond me, but as always it's up to the listener to make of it what they will.
Tonight his set was largely occupied by material from Get Happy!! and the forthcoming album, Trust interspersed with such inspired choices as "Big Tears," a classic B-side, and an abbreviated "Detectives," which was so much the better for its brevity.
As always, the Attractions themselves provided perfect backings for the horn-rimmed one, though how they manage to remain so miserable onstage whilst pumping out such exciting material will always be a mystery.
By the time they'd finished, Costello's aim to warm up the hall had been fulfilled, the crowd was ecstatic, and also worried that UB40 weren't going to play, so Costello wished us home safely and then disappeared into nowhere. The only thing wrong with Costello at present is his increasing weight.
But then a good healthy British tour will put that right.
For the time being I'm on his side.
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