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Since Elvis Costello has billed himself as The Imposter, he shouldn't be offended that his collaboration with the Brodsky Quartet can best be described as an extraordinary fake.
Neither pop nor classical nor musical theater, these 20 brief compositions are not necessarily even letters, as the title suggests. Rather, the tunes are passages in Costello's growth as both a composer and a poet. In the bigger picture, the effort is an interesting side trip that few rock 'n' rollers take with as much grace and lasting results as Costello does here.
The title comes from responses to letters addressed to Juliet Capulet (one of the star-crossed lovers in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet), supposedly written by a Veronese professor. Though the lyrics aren't taken verbatim from real letters (except for Paul Cassidy's "Dead Letter"), they are interpretations, extrapolations of everything from a chain letter to a suicide note to graffiti.
In the liner notes Costello says he wrote the lyrics in collaboration with the Quartet and Marina Thomas, wife of Brodsky violinist Michael Thomas. What deep sadness they must have shared with each other, for much of the album is about loss. But whether mourning the loss of love, self-respect, childhood or innocence, there is a romanticism that prevails, keeping the tunes from wallowing in self-pity.
Since his beginnings in the late '70s, Costello has written good and sometimes great tunes — "Peace In Our Time" and "The Long Honeymoon" come immediately to mind — but they haven't always been well received because of the music around them. His projects and collaborations seem to come from whimsy rather than commitment or need and often have an unfinished edge, like Get Happy or Almost Blue.
This flippant attitude could easily have prevailed on The Juliet Letters — Costello had just learned to write and read music and what better way to practice (or show off) his new craft than to write and record with a string quartet.
But not only does Costello impress the listener, he moves her. It is the sparseness of the poetry, the simplicity of the stories and the truth of the delivery that makes The Juliet Letters an emotional experience. The lyrics are existential in their awareness of a kind of eternal solitude, and what better way to soothe that loneliness and despair than to write letters?
Costello's vocals never sounded this soulful even when he was singing soul music. Since he doesn't have to compete with electric instruments, the singer lays back into the tunes or shouts from inside, instead of screaming on top of the music.
Since the feelings come through, there is a real sense of drama in the tunes. Sometimes it's as if the songs came from the "corny as Kansas in August" school of musicals; at other moments the references are a little more astute, a la a Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht collaboration. And the love song "Romeo's Seance" sounds as if it came right out of West Side Story. This particular tune, and "I Almost Had a Weakness," with its catchy melody and cartoon humor, can also pass for animated pop and would go over with fans of another quirky storyteller, Lyle Lovett.
But while Lovett's work with a "jazz" band seems like overkill, Costello's effort with the Brodsky is artful. You can feel the sparks between the musicians and the singer/ composer. He gives them a present in which to re-contextualize the rigid form of classical music, and a reason to play in the now rather than in the museum.
It's not that the Brodsky Quartet isn't contemporary — the foursome has worked on projects with fashion designer Issey Miyake, done a lot of TV and played classical music from old masters and contemporary composers. But here, as part of the creation and playing of the music, their investment seems to come from deep in the pocket, as if their reputation depended on the outcome.
While Costello has never seemed to care about his reputation — some people still remember him only for his slur against Ray Charles and the ensuing beating he got from Bonnie Bramlett — he, too, profits from the collaboration. The Brodsky's beautiful, energetic playing gives him a reason to sing, so there is a sort of wholeness about The Juliet Letters, as if Costello and the Quartet were pen pals corresponding for decades who finally met. Not only do they know each other from the letters they've written, there is joy in giving life to the concept.
The merging of pop and classical doesn't always work. Often there is a gap between the singing and the instrumental sections of the songs; it feels as if Costello thought he ought to write some long instrumental interludes since he was working with a group of classical players. So, in the middle of a rather simple song, there isn't a bridge to the next verse, there's an ocean the listener must cross to get to the rest of the song. The interludes are pretty but distracting, and take the focus away from the pieces as songs.
The Juliet Letters may be a bit distracting for Costello's career, too. Though it is far superior to the work you'll find in the Stiff Records box set, it just isn't rock 'n' roll, and if Costello fans aren't open to something new, not many people are going to buy this disc. It's certainly too low-brow for classical fans. But if David Byrne can make a mess of efforts to wed classical and just about every other kind of music to popular music, Costello should not only be given a hearing, he should be applauded.
The Juliet Letters are a big step in the next wall that needs to be torn down — the one between musical genres.
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