Elvis Costello And The Attractions This Year's Mode
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After releasing and touring the intense This Year's Model, Elvis Costello quickly returned to the studio with the Attractions to record his third album, Armed Forces. In contrast to the stripped-down pop and rock of his first two albums, Armed Forces boasted a detailed and textured pop production, but it was hardly lavish. However, the more spacious arrangements -- complete with ringing pianos, echoing reverb, layered guitars, and harmonies -- accent Costello's melodies, making the record more accessible than his first two albums. Perversely, while the sound of Costello's music was becoming more open and welcoming, his songs became more insular and paranoid, even though he cloaked his emotions well. Many of the songs on Armed Forces use politics as a metaphor for personal relationships, particularly fascism, which explains its working title, Emotional Fascism. Occasionally, the lyrics are forced, but the music never is -- the album demonstrates the depth of Costello's compositional talents and how he can move from the hook-laden pop of "Accidents Will Happen" to the paranoid "Goon Squad" with ease. Some of the songs, like the light reggae of "Two Little Hitlers" and the impassioned "Party Girl," build on his strengths, while others like the layered "Oliver's Army" take Costello into new territories. It's a dense but accessible pop record and ranks as his third masterpiece in a row.
One of the most striking elements of Costello's songs has always been the scathing, precise social commentary of his lyrics. Never one to shirk away from issues, the early period of Costello's work sees him addressing topics from mercenary warfare ('Oliver's Army') to wife-beating ('Watching The Detectives'). It is a mark of his talent that these songs still sound strikingly relevant today. Check out 'Clubland' for a cynical sussing of club-culture 15 years before Jarvis became 'Sorted (For Es and Whizz)' or 1978's '(I Don't Want To Go To) Chelsea', a depiction of exploitative Warhol-style production of fashion models. Musically as well as lyrically, Costello's considerable ability was quickly in evidence. From his debut My Aim Is True, 'Watching The Detectives', with its dubby bass, fragmented guitar figures and skittering percussion, created a White reggae sound much imitated by The Police. In 1978, with collaborator and producer Steve Nieve, Costello formed The Attractions (Steve Nieve - keyboards, Bruce Thomas - Bass, and Pete Thomas - Drums) for This Year's Model. In the process, a unique sound was created that was both restrained and innovative. On the spunky pop of 'Pump it Up', for example, The Attractions provide a dumb-ass punk three-chord riff and a Doors-esque organ sound as backdrop to Costello's rapid fire Subterranean Homesick Blues lyrics. Elsewhere The Attractions create accompaniments that are both beautiful and subtle ('Shipbuilding'), and swirly, frantic and poppy ('Lipstick Vogue'). Viewing this collection as a whole Costello's musical diversity is apparent. From the snarly, spiky pop on Armed Forces to the more laid-back calypso soul on tracks such as 'Everyday I Write The Book' from 1983's Punch The Clock, Costello's music managed to evolve while staying true to a deeply rooted artistic vision. Costello's work away from The Attractions, such as the critically overlooked but intriguing 1996 album with the Brodsky Quartet, All This Useless Beauty, displayed an imagination and taste much lacking during the time. Away from the security of The Attractions, Costello still created some excellent material, including 'Brilliant Mistake', the track featured here from his 1986 album with T.Bone Burnett, the superb King Of America. While his solo outing from 1991, 'Mighty Like A Rose', was somewhat less than impressive, 1994 saw him reunited with The Attractions for Brutal Youth, a well received return to form. Costello manages to consistently sound contemporary while resisting the remix-one-stop-career-fix option, in favour of the discipline of hard work and strong songwriting. While such 'Best Of' collections can always be criticised for missing certain favourites ('Less Than Zero' is particularly conspicuous by its absence), this CD contains a vast array of classic tracks. It is an essential purchase.
Pay the price of attention and enter Elvis Costello's Magic Theater, a dazzling display of musical and political styles united by a simultaneously bitter and compassionate point of view. At first, _Spike_ seems schizophrenic. But the key is its diversity, which spans the rich pop of "Veronica" (a collaboration with Paul McCartney and, with odd resonance, kind of an update of "Eleanor Rigby"); the cosmic rockabilly of "Pads, Paws, and Claws" (the other McCartney collaboration); the bluesy "God's Comic"; and the teary, naked "Baby Plays Around." There's a pastoral feeling to several tunes, especially the more overtly political ones, such as "Tramp the Dirt Down" (a sad, angry blast at Margaret Thatcher's Britain) and the almost unbearably wistful "Last Boat Leaving," which gives _Spike_ a nostalgic, despairing note. For the most part, Costello shelves the dazzling wordplay that marked some of his best albums (especially _This Year's Model_ and _Armed Forces_) in favor of straightforward storytelling. "Chewing Gum," one of several cuts about dashed expectations and deceit, is a jagged, obscure jump song. The nervy, CD-only "Coal-Train Robberies" features a Third World news flash of constantly shifting viewpoint. It's sandwiched between the lovely Irish-uprising memoir "Any King's Shilling" and "Last Boat Leaving"--songs of similar tempo and attitude--and gives this organic-sounding CD more vitality than the vinyl version. The songs build upon one another, each one giving the preceding depth and drama. "This Town" launches a bitter attack at entrepreneurs. Its dominant images are those of the piano man as leper, of the Babbitt whose poverty is his stigma, of the "Fish-Finger King" who lives on "Self-Made Man Row." "This Town" packs the punch of "Pump It Up," but it's wise without being wisecracking. For the rich, funky "Deep Dark Truthful Mirror," Costello and his wife, former Pogue Cait O'Riordan, traveled to New Orleans to enlist the Dirty Dozen Brass Band and legendary pianist Allen Toussiant. The latter applies precise, churchy filigree to this devotional love song about the consequences of deceit. The production is reverential without being musty, and Toussaint's piano sounds positively fruity. The pivotal points, however, are "Miss Macbeth," an acid portrayal of an old, witchy woman; the dreamy, ambiguous "Satellite"; and the forked "Stalin Malone." "Miss Macbeth" evokes _Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_ in its psychedelic vaudeville and its evocation of childhood haunts and imagery, while "Satellite" again discloses Costello's fascination with imagery and electronics. (Note how "Miss Macbeth" vamps on Costello's real name, Declan MacManus). "Stalin Malone" is an instrumental on the disc, but Costello has provided lyrics on the insert. Packed with horns and percussion, it's swinging and jovial, and might have been written by Hollywood chartmaster Shorty Rogers in the late '50s. The phantasmagoric lyrics suggest an all-knowing Big Brother whose time is about to come. _Spike_ is a unified work about exploration, about looking at a world grown disturbing and alienating. Costello has reclaimed his eminence as rock's best reporter, one of the premier documentarians of a universe that goads, saddens, and amuses him.