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It had to happen. After four brilliant American albums, and one not-so-brilliant but still vibrant compilation, Elvis Costello finally has lost his magical touch with Trust, his latest release on Columbia.
The album is disappointing for the simple reason that it contains some of the worst songs Costello has ever committed to vinyl. The fact that it also contains some of his best compositions helps to mitigate the disappointment, but overall the album lacks the cohesive quality, flashing inspiration and evidence of careful craft that marked Costello's first four albums.
While each of the earlier albums was held together by a distinctive artistic stance, Trust seems to disintegrate before its style can be formed. Despite a theme of sexual infidelity that provides a fertile ground for the champion punster of the new wave, the coyness of the lyrics often seems forced instead of playful and the preoccupation with sexual violence threatens to make Costello boring instead of shocking.
Yet Trust is saved from the trash heap by the grace of several magnificent songs and the stunning quality and variety of the Attractions, which has to be ranked among the tightest and most talented bands currently recording,
The album starts strongly with the exciting "Clubland," which cleverly complements the art on the LP package (portraying Costello "looking Italian" and fronting a Tommy Dorsey-style band) and seems to promise a new angle from which Costello can attack the peculiarly British moral frustrations that haunt his songs.
"Clubland" is vintage Costello — catchy melody and clever lyrics reaching their highest point of effectiveness in the refrain. It bursts with the creativity that always has been Costello's trademark.
But the luster begins to fade about halfway into "Lovers Walk" the second song on the side, when the listener finally begins to realize that, despite the throbbing and infectious bass beat, there will be no hook to make this song come alive. The wonderful bass line is reduced to monotony by repetition and is smothered by Costello's overplayed vocal. The end of the song brings relief.
The rest of the first side is filled with mediocre efforts. Not that these songs are bad, but for Costello, mediocrity is a major step backwards. Only "Strict Time" and "Luxembourg" push through the morass, but the first sounds like a throwback to the Armed Forces LP and the second, although bursting with energy, sounds like it was recorded in someone's bathroom.
Despite this parade of indifferent songs, the Attractions are playing their pants off. The rhythm section of Pete Thomas on drums and Bruce Thomas on bass adds punch and flavor to songs that otherwise would be helpless drivel. Together with keyboardist Steve Nieve, these guys have proved themselves more than equal to every quirky style, lightning-paced chord change and perverse tempo switch that Costello has demanded over the course of the five albums on which they have appeared.
When Costello, on the second side of Trust, finally offers up some songs the Attractions can sink their teeth into, they respond with their best effort to date. "New Lace Sleeves," "From a Whisper to a Scream," "Big Sister's Clothes" and the fantastic "Fish 'n' Chip Paper," jump off the vinyl and grab the listener by the ear. Each is as good as anything Costello has written and is performed as well as this band has ever played.
Unfortunately, sandwiched somewhere between the smoking ferocity of "From a Whisper to a Scream" and the resoundingly happy "Fish 'n' Chip Paper" is a song that is as unwelcome on this album as a sheepherder at a cattlemen's convention.
"Shot With His Own Gun" is a slow, pretentious, boring, overblown piece of soppy melodrama that drags on and on. Basically, it consists of crashing pseudo-classical piano chords and the title line repeated over and over. This song is especially disappointing because, in the rarefied atmosphere of superbly crafted pop rock in which Costello had been operating, a song as trashy as this one would not have been conceivable. Elton John couldn't do worse.
To his everlasting credit, Costello manages to pull his chestnuts from the fire with the next song. Maybe it's just because "Shot With His Own Gun" is so bad, but "Fish 'n' Chip Paper" feels like a jolt of adrenalin. It boasts an opening couplet that rhymes "confetti" with "Paul Getty," a bass line that sounds like an entire horn section and a jaunty melody that swings into high gear when it hits the refrain. The lyrics manage, in classic Costello style, to be both obtuse and catchy. It's the rhyme scheme and meter that do that — "If you got something to hide / If you got something to sell / If you got somebody's bride she might kiss and tell / Or wind-up with a fat man in the Hammersmith Hotel." You might not know what it means but you sure do want to sing along.
The flashes of greatness in the songs and in the Attractions' musicianship on Trust pull the album to a three-star rating. It's much better than the majority of current albums and provides a lot of enjoyable listening, but if you want to sample Elvis Costello for the first time, buy one of his other albums. At one time, his aim was true.
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