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Elvis Costello's fans have been split regarding his recent output. Some yearn for the amphetamine-fuelled days of 'This Year's Model' and 'Get Happy!' and feel like he's been too busy stroking his vanity with various side projects like the recent collaboration with Burt Bacharach. These folks have written him off as a musical panderer. Then there are those who actually enjoy the left turns, but even most of those people have been waiting for the return to the punch-drunk characters of his past combined with a return to the combo tumult of The Attractions. It's not that these damaged characters haven't been here in spades: After all, many of the characters on the Bacharach record, 'Painted From Memory', are in various stages of disrepair. It's just that the songs have either been awash in ersatz schmaltz or sung by opera singers and cabaret performers (which is an open invitation to scorn by much of the generation that comprises the main body of his fan base, even considering the recent embrace of folks like Bacharach and the re-emergence of lounge music as "hip").
One thing that Costello has been touted for is his staunch refusal to repeat a soundscape from album to album. And with his new release, 'When I Was Cruel', he continues this trend.
He seems to be attempting a "modern" update to his sound, even while paying homage in places to The Beatles, circa 'Revolver' and 'For Sale'. He has also drawn some inspiration from Portishead and others from the drum'n'bass side of the aisle. And the results are mixed. The song '... Dust' is a good example of the wobbly sound that Portishead have been noted for (it even has a proto-surf single line guitar figure). The only problem is that it doesn't have the same sense of sexiness and desperation that the band are noted for.
On 'Tear Off Your Own Head (It's A Doll Revolution)', Costello takes The Beatles' 'Taxman' and turns it on its own head. The chorus even borrows a little from the chorus of the Fats Domino song 'I'm Walkin''. It's a fun romp that will remind those of a certain age of the mid-Sixties.
Fans of his ability to turn a hook will be delighted by 'My Blue Window', a song that seems as if it came off the end of side two of 'Blood And Chocolate'. One wonders if he was writing the line "the poison fountain pen / now requires the antidote" for himself. Nah, probably not - regret doesn't seem to be an emotion that he has time for.
'Episode of Blonde' is his homage to Dylan. Spitting out lines like the snarling Dylan that we all know and love, he accentuates the point by reverting to a more "conventional" vocal approach during the chorus and bridge. When he punches the words "explosion", "monstrosity", "fascinate", and "insinuate", one hears a vital Dylan railing against the stupidity and confusion of the modern world. and the wordplay is vintage Zimmerman.
'15 Petals' is a busy, noisy love letter to his wife, Cait O'Riordan. "Jewels and precious metals would never do." Indeed.
'Spooky Girlfriend' reminds one again of Portishead when it begins, but then moves into 'I Want You' territory. That song, perhaps the best song about obsession ever written, is approached in its scariness.
My favourite song on the album is 'Tart'. With a gentle keyboard opening by Steve Nieve, the song moodily lights up the back alleys of the dark edges of town. The protagonist of the song seems lost in a maze of decadence, and the song almost seems like an intervention. 'Tart' seems to update the excellent song from 'Brutal Youth', 'Sulky Girl'. The title of the song is a delicious play of words as well.
'Daddy Can I Turn This?' is a good old-fashioned basher. The song's title was lifted from the story of the child of a Russian pilot who asked the fateful question, "Daddy can I turn this?", pointing to a knob on the console. He did, and crashed the plane. The story turns the plane into a relationship and the child into a button-pushing antagonist that sends the relationship into a tail-spin.
My biggest disappointment is the song 'Alibi'. Performed as the opening song on his recent tour with Steve Nieve, the song was a snarling putdown of an acquaintance - a person willing to blame his or her problems on anything other than themselves. The song was a delightful, to-the-point, feedback-laden blast of vitriol, but in this version the song has been stretched to over seven minutes, with many additional, often superfluous and awkward verses tacked on. In my view, it's a real pity, although I've already spoken to some who feel that it's brilliant and the best thing on the album. Keep in mind that I'm comparing to my mental image of the promise of the song that I heard stripped-down in concert. It will be up to you to make up your mind, and if you're unencumbered by prior exposure to the song, you might reach a different conclusion than I did.
Frankly, I'm not happy with many of the production decisions made on this record. But I've come almost 180 degrees since my first listening. The album has really grown on me through repeated listenings, and I feel that it's one of Elvis's strongest (if hard to swallow) works. Heck, I remember hating 'Blood And Chocolate' when it first came out, and it took me a year just to revisit it, and it's now actually just about my favourite record of his.
So, don't judge this record by the initial listening. That would be the cruellest move.
http://www.kindamuzik.net/recensie/elvis-costello/when-i-was-cruel/1457/
Meer Elvis Costello op KindaMuzik: http://www.kindamuzik.net/artiest/elvis-costello
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