Toronto Globe and Mail, March 8, 1978: Difference between revisions
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YOU SAY YOU stood in line out in front of [[Concert 1978-03-06 Toronto|El Mocambo]] the other night? You got there at 1 in the afternoon because you wanted to | YOU SAY YOU stood in line out in front of [[Concert 1978-03-06 Toronto|El Mocambo]] the other night? You got there at 1 in the afternoon because you wanted to be sure to get a seat, for the Elvis Costello Toronto debut, for a set that was scheduled to begin at 11:30 p.m. You didn't mind waiting — you knew that this was going to be the rock event of the year. Everyone said so. But you didn't get in — you had to leave the line, and when you returned you found 1,000 people ahead of you, waiting for approximately 300 seats, a good portion of them already allotted to record people, radio people, newspaper people. So now, although you might not believe it anyway, you want someone to tell you that it doesn't matter — that you really didn't miss much. | ||
You'd he right not to believe it, because you were right all along, and if you were not there, you did miss the rock event of the season. Elvis Costello, the British working class singer (real name: Deklan McManus) who has released one album (''[[My Aim Is True]]''), who once worked as a computer programmer in an Elisabeth Arden factory, may not he the rock Messiah some have said he is, but he has come along at exactly the right time to remind all of why we started listening to rock and roll in the first place: because it was honest, and pure, and uncompromising, and defiant, and dangerous. (Not to you, of course, but to the people who don't want to understand it) | You'd he right not to believe it, because you were right all along, and if you were not there, you did miss the rock event of the season. Elvis Costello, the British working class singer (real name: Deklan McManus) who has released one album (''[[My Aim Is True]]''), who once worked as a computer programmer in an Elisabeth Arden factory, may not he the rock Messiah some have said he is, but he has come along at exactly the right time to remind all of why we started listening to rock and roll in the first place: because it was honest, and pure, and uncompromising, and defiant, and dangerous. (Not to you, of course, but to the people who don't want to understand it) | ||
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The audience, by now, is standing. Elvis, earlier, asked the audience to stand, a move that contrasted sharply with his normal stage demeanor, which is to ignore the audience, or glare at it; the request to boogie was answered by some, but not by many, possibly because it seemed out of character, too show biz for this singer whose art is predicated on denying the recent excesses of rock art. When the audience does stand, it's because the music has demanded it, which is as it should be. One of the last songs, before he leaves to return later for an encore, is "[[Pump It Up]]" ('till you can feel it'), a number delivered with such precision the band begins to sound like one many-voiced instrument, and the message — exhortation — is as primal as the riffs. | The audience, by now, is standing. Elvis, earlier, asked the audience to stand, a move that contrasted sharply with his normal stage demeanor, which is to ignore the audience, or glare at it; the request to boogie was answered by some, but not by many, possibly because it seemed out of character, too show biz for this singer whose art is predicated on denying the recent excesses of rock art. When the audience does stand, it's because the music has demanded it, which is as it should be. One of the last songs, before he leaves to return later for an encore, is "[[Pump It Up]]" ('till you can feel it'), a number delivered with such precision the band begins to sound like one many-voiced instrument, and the message — exhortation — is as primal as the riffs. | ||
He returns with [[Nick Lowe]], his producer, who sings "I feel like breaking glass." Costello stands off to the side, twitching in his jerky, mechanical fashion, slapping a hand to the top of his head and holding it there for a double beat. Someone in the audience, holding a beer in salute, screams "Elvis" and the new Elvis acknowledges the kind of adoration the old one used to receive by slowly running his tongue across his bottom lip in a movement that is, at once, invitingly erotic and | He returns with [[Nick Lowe]], his producer, who sings "[[I Love The Sound Of Breaking Glass |I feel like breaking glass]]." Costello stands off to the side, twitching in his jerky, mechanical fashion, slapping a hand to the top of his head and holding it there for a double beat. Someone in the audience, holding a beer in salute, screams "Elvis" and the new Elvis acknowledges the kind of adoration the old one used to receive by slowly running his tongue across his bottom lip in a movement that is, at once, invitingly erotic and repellantly hostile. That is what rock and roll once was; it looks like the what was might be the what is again. | ||
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Revision as of 15:43, 30 April 2013
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