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The first thing I noticed about Elvis "The King" Costello when he ran onstage at the Fox Theater was his shiny red shoes. Here was a man in your basic banker attire: grey suit, pencil-thin tie, Buddy Holly glasses (what?!). Well, maybe not average. But those shoes! They seemed to make a statement: "I'm different, but God I'm good at it." And he was.
You see, the second thing I noticed about Elvis Costello was his excellence. As one in awe of Elvis, this second observation shouldn't have astonished me. But those ominous reports of his earlier detached concert persona had me a little worried. Would he come on stage, reluctantly display his talent to the ignorant masses, shoot us a bird and leave? No. This is a man who came back for three — count them, three — encores, displaying a charmingly childish pleasure as he did so. This is a man who hadn't just memorized 27 — count them, 27 — songs. He meant them.
Example: he wasn't kidding in "Kid About It" from 1982's Imperial Bedroom. Probably the most moving five minutes of the concert, Elvis' song about an insecure love affair took on new depth as he hunched over the mic in a pleading pose. "Say you wouldn't / Please say you wouldn't / Kid about it," he half begged, half screamed. It was refreshing to see a man who was brave enough to not only admit to insecurity, but to show his despair as well. I'm willing to bet that Elvis Costello even eats quiche, but that doesn't prevent him from being an admirable — and real — man.
Of course, even sensitive men like to dance. Three thousand bodies surged to the breathless beat of "Mystery Dance," one of his older, jumpier songs off the first album. In this irreverent ode to sex, Costello walloped a punch of pure rock 'n' roll that would make Chuck Berry proud. Elvis fanatics (me!) and tough, world—weary punks (in Atlanta?) alike forgot all about Reaganomics and other depressing things, captured by Elvis' genius.
When I reflect on the performance, I'm almost frightened by the stranglehold Elvis held on us. One word, one chord, even one move had us gasping. He enthralled us, both in the common sense of enrapturing us and in the literal sense of binding us. Almost magical was the silence of the audience as Elvis pensively repeated the final words of "Shipbuilding": "With all the will in the world / Diving for dear life / When we could be diving for pearls / Diving for pearls / Diving for pearls / Diving for pearls." A beautiful piano solo by Attraction (singular of Attractions, Elvis' group) Steve Nieve augmented the poignant moment.
The only thing missing from this evening of adulation was the absence of an older, fitting song: "The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes." Tell them to stand in line, Elvis. So do I.
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