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Wandering innocently into Hammersmith Odeon at 9.15, I was foolish enough to think that I had time for a swift livener before the start of the show. No such luck – Elvis Costello was already on stage and well into his set.
I fought my way to my seat in semi-darkness, only to find some cretin had already taken possession of it and refused to move. After a 10 minute argument involving the bouncers and aforementioned upstart I managed to get settled and pay attention to what was going on onstage.
I’m probably going to upset the legions of Costello fans when I say that it was all very disappointing. I’d expected so much more than the jaded and unenthusiastic performance he gave. I was left with the impression that Costello just wanted to get it all over with. He berated the audience – “you don’t have much to say for yourselves, do you?” – but neither did he. The crowd were, in fact, an odd bunch. Young marrieds, mixed with duffle and scarf clad students, and scattered around were even a few OAP’s. He’s obviously reached the stage of being a ‘safe’ performer, one that it’s OK to take mum and Aunt Doris to see. The only movement from the audience was an appreciative head nodding when an old favourite came on. Otherwise they were almost totally static.
Costello didn’t seem particularly happy with the venue – “I can’t see anyone out there” he complained – and dedicated ‘The Beat’ to anyone from the old days at the Nashville. Maybe he wishes he was back there. It may not have been particularly salubrious but at least there was atmosphere and excitement (sometimes).
It became almost like a cabaret act on occasions. There was nothing new, no surprises, and a lot of slow ballads. He even included ‘Some Day I’ll Fly Away’ , God only knows why, as he’s got enough great material of his own without having to do cover versions. Randy Crawford did it better anyway.
It wasn’t the music which was so much at fault, although the sound was pretty appalling. The band played a lot of the old hits, but Costello seemed weary of them, as though he’d performed them once too often already.
He left the stage at 10 o’clock, returning for the obligatory encores which were about the best bit of the set. ‘Watching The Detectives’ and ‘I Can’t Stand Up For Falling Down’ were eventually performed with the vitality that had been missing earlier on.
So I left the hall, only to find the bar closed. It was that sort of evening.
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