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Bespectacled and wan, Elvis Costello looks about as far from a rock star as it's possible to get, according to an earlier biography in a rock encyclopedia. He's an angry man, it claimed, a songwriter whose lyrics "snap" as they're sung "with a prophet's urgency."
Welcome to 1986.
Now bearded and less angry, this year's model of Costello has risen from the blue-collar drudge of his early "Welcome to the Working Week" and become the King of America.
The rise in status seems to have lessened his renowned lyrical anger a bit, mellowing it into a sort of mild cynicism. In other words, he used to be disgusted, but now he tries to be amused — sans red shoes.
This record is the logical extension of Costello's 1981 release, Almost Blue, an album of country and western covers. King continues Costello's experiments in American honky-tonk soul, an influence that's grown from dabbling in Nashville studios with George Jones into this — a full-blown attempt at bringing country music in from the hills.
The Attractions put in an appearance on only one cut, as producer T Bone Burnett and Costello blazed a trail to Los Angeles, the new home of
country rock, to achieve the proper blend of influences. Using the cream of L.A.'s country session specialists, they've managed to weave a record that shows rural roots with an Anglo touch.
Most of the support remains conveniently in the background, in the tradition of Nashville's legendary session men. Guitarist James Burton steps out the furthest, providing some snappy rockabilly guitar work on several tracks, particularly on "Our Little Angel."
Several songs explore country with a political tinge, albeit with a more intellectual approach than the usual jingoistic efforts that emerge from Nashville. Particularly impressive in this vein is "American Without Tears," a waltz in 3/4 time that wouldn't be out of place on WHN.
While there's not an "Alison" or "(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes," here, there are several tracks that should wear well in the hearts and minds of long-time Costello fans.
"Brilliant Mistake," the opening song, showcases Costello's flair for the cutting remark, featuring a characterization of the girl he's lost his heart to, a woman wearing unspeakable perfume who works for ABC — "it was as much of the alphabet as she knew how to use."
The boogie-shuffle of "Lovable" follows. More than a throwaway, this good ol' foot-stomper should work well in concert. Costello takes the old saw about a woman cheating on her man and gives it his own twist, remarking how the talk of the town is how she's so lovable. No one can resist that 1-4-5 progression.
The first single off the album is also the lone cover, a remake of the Animals "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood." Taking Eric Burdon's soul-wrenching lament one step further with modern production techniques, Costello uses a smoky organ and synthesizer to paint a dark background for his attempt at a ravaged soul.
The problem with this, one that runs throughout the album, is the dryness of Costello's voice. Where "Misunderstood" and several other cuts cry out for a raspy whiskey voice. Costello can merely lightly bend the dry nasal texture of his British-rooted tones. But that's what happens when a stranger dabbles in a strange land.
Since Costello's last two LP's, Punch the Clock and Goodbye Cruel World, didn't provoke any riots at the record counter, it's interesting that the country influence of Costello should emerge as his next record.
While it can't be proved, the moguls in charge of these types of things at Columbia records no doubt are praying for a reverse crossover on this record, perhaps breaking pop and country into a new wave of Elvis fans.
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