San Francisco Examiner, June 8, 1978: Difference between revisions

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And that's an easy way out, because selected recordings from the late 1950s can always be dredged up to substantiate the claim that early rock 'n' roll was superior to the commercialized stuff that created the electric rock monster that we've all seen artistically wobbling around (and wallowing, in money) in recent years.  
And that's an easy way out, because selected recordings from the late 1950s can always be dredged up to substantiate the claim that early rock 'n' roll was superior to the commercialized stuff that created the electric rock monster that we've all seen artistically wobbling around (and wallowing, in money) in recent years.  


For a while, listening to Costello's precise lyrics, his tight, firmly harmonic and rhythmically sure backup group ("The Attractions") and watching his simple, obvious stage manners, one is drawn toward his presentation — namely, that old-time, innocent rock, the kind the kids next door fooled with in the family rumpus room while imitating Elvis Presley, Bill Haley, maybe Chuck Berry or Bo Diddley and even (ugh) the Kingston Trio, was really the great stuff. Buddy Holly had a touch, and so did early Jagger, and Eric Burdon, and of course the Beatles (because they introduced most kids to their early influences), but what's gone wrong recently is that rock has become big business and lost its roots.  
For a while, listening to Costello's precise lyrics, his tight, firmly harmonic and rhythmically sure backup group (The Attractions) and watching his simple, obvious stage manners, one is drawn toward his presentation — namely, that old-time, innocent rock, the kind the kids next door fooled with in the family rumpus room while imitating Elvis Presley, Bill Haley, maybe Chuck Berry or Bo Diddley and even (ugh) the Kingston Trio, was really the great stuff. Buddy Holly had a touch, and so did early Jagger, and Eric Burdon, and of course the Beatles (because they introduced most kids to their early influences), but what's gone wrong recently is that rock has become big business and lost its roots.  


"Back to fundamentals," the old cry of defeated and frustrated athletic coaches, is now the battle cry of reactionary rockers. Get the tonic and dominant and subdominant chords down clean and slick; hit the rim-shots and slap the bass drum; play the guitar like a bandsman, not a soloing superstar, and let the man sing.  
"Back to fundamentals," the old cry of defeated and frustrated athletic coaches, is now the battle cry of reactionary rockers. Get the tonic and dominant and subdominant chords down clean and slick; hit the rim-shots and slap the bass drum; play the guitar like a bandsman, not a soloing superstar, and let the man sing.  
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{{Bibliography notes}}
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'''San Francisco Examiner, June 8, 1978
'''San Francisco Examiner, June 8, 1978
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Forward into rock's past

Philip Elwood

Old times, sort of, at Winterland last night: Foggy, mid-week, crowded but not jammed, happy, jostling but not push-comes-to-shove.

And a peculiar night of electric music, as if 1978 were a reflection of things past. Headlining was Elvis Costello, a 23-year-old British guitarist, lyricist, singer, computer-operator — a rage among the rock reactionaries who feel it all must have been better in yesteryear.

And that's an easy way out, because selected recordings from the late 1950s can always be dredged up to substantiate the claim that early rock 'n' roll was superior to the commercialized stuff that created the electric rock monster that we've all seen artistically wobbling around (and wallowing, in money) in recent years.

For a while, listening to Costello's precise lyrics, his tight, firmly harmonic and rhythmically sure backup group (The Attractions) and watching his simple, obvious stage manners, one is drawn toward his presentation — namely, that old-time, innocent rock, the kind the kids next door fooled with in the family rumpus room while imitating Elvis Presley, Bill Haley, maybe Chuck Berry or Bo Diddley and even (ugh) the Kingston Trio, was really the great stuff. Buddy Holly had a touch, and so did early Jagger, and Eric Burdon, and of course the Beatles (because they introduced most kids to their early influences), but what's gone wrong recently is that rock has become big business and lost its roots.

"Back to fundamentals," the old cry of defeated and frustrated athletic coaches, is now the battle cry of reactionary rockers. Get the tonic and dominant and subdominant chords down clean and slick; hit the rim-shots and slap the bass drum; play the guitar like a bandsman, not a soloing superstar, and let the man sing.

And Elvis Costello does sing. The sound system at Winterland didn't help him last night, but he got his voice, if not his words, across. Sometimes, in fact, there was even a suggestion of melodic invention in the otherwise stylized (dull, boring?) straight-ahead rock 'n' roll set.

The current adulation of 1950s rock 'n' roll parallels the 1950's enthusiasm for early '20s New Orleans (black) jazz. In both cases far more articulate and technically competent musicians have distilled the original, then built a slicked-up "new sound" on the crusty foundations of the past.

Kipling wrote, "After me cometh a builder; tell him I, too, have known."

Costello is reworking the past in modern garb. Dressed in a business suit, playing all the notes and singing all the lyrics, he somehow seems to lose the urgency of spontaneous performance at about the time he generates boredom in his audience.

Costello is "reviving" a music that never existed. He's impressive, a fine writer, a decent enough singer who obviously knows what he wants — a loose, informal, late-'50s, money-making, rock sound. Because his background is obscure, though British, his performance alludes to his inspirations — Berry, Van Morrison, Alan Price... and probably many more.

"Blame It on Cain," "The Beat," and a super version of "Radio, Radio," from his newest LP (he has only two) were first-rate Costello renditions — definitive stuff.

The 1950s rock 'n' roll was, after all, only another musical reflection of times going by. What Costello is doing is imitating the '50s but selecting only that style and sound he finds useful and valid. He can't be "nostalgic" since he didn't live in the '50s (except in a crib), so what he offers is an old-style rock in much the same way that young white jazzmen imitated early New Orleans and Dixieland styles.

Costello draws huge crowds, and although at Winterland last night they didn't dance, he's got a solid beat going. But his strong demands of the instrumentalists around him should produce better music than he gets.

And his is a carefully tailored show, short, exactingly pared. It is also almost devoid of "soul." Soul, if you remember, was the black American community's answer to the stuff white musicians passed off as "rock" (a term originally from black musicians).

Costello's reactionary rock is, in other words, like slick imitation "Dixieland" jazz. Attractive, logical, precise, brief — and basically understandable.

It also has lost its guts just as his chord sequences often get to meandering.


Tags: Winterland  •  San Francisco  •  The Attractions  •  Elvis Presley  •  Chuck Berry  •  Bo Diddley  •  Buddy Holly  •  Mick Jagger  •  The Beatles  •  Van Morrison  •  Blame It On Cain  •  The Beat  •  Radio, Radio

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San Francisco Examiner, June 8, 1978

Philip Elwood reviews Elvis Costello & The Attractions, Wednesday, June 7, 1978, Winterland, San Francisco, California.

Images

1978-06-08 San Francisco Examiner page 31 clipping 01.jpg
Clipping.

Page scan.
1978-06-08 San Francisco Examiner page 31.jpg

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