— Tim De Lisle
Did The Beatles give everyone the wrong idea about creativity and success going hand in hand? The fact that they were able to parlay their wildly popular early hits into works of increasingly greater experimentation, introspection and sophistication all the while maintaining their commercial dominance is probably more astounding today since no one else has been able to replicate it. Even among the Fab Four's contemporaries there was little correlation between artistic achievement and the charts. The Beach Boys were starting to falter commercially just as Brian Wilson was delivering his masterpiece Pet Sounds, The Byrds found themselves releasing one better album after another with ever decreasing sales and The Kinks best album suffered the indignity of missing the charts completely. (Of course I'm cherry picking examples that suit me here but it only goes to show that there was never a rule to go by; not that anyone ever suggested there was a rule...is it possible to strawman yourself?)
The Beatles example may have been what virtually everyone aspired towards — even if they had denied at the time — but few could have expected even a fraction of the same for themselves. Elvis Costello, a passionate devotee of every genre of music from rag time to ye ye and something of a pop music scholar, would've known that better than most.
Tim De Lisle is concerned with Costello's lack of Top 40 action, urging readers to "Buy This Now!" all the while acknowledging that his self-composed singles hadn't gotten nearly enough punters to shell out the requist bob since "Oliver's Army". (I wonder if it rankled the man a touch that following his almost number one hit he only had two more placements on the Top 10, both of which were covers; on the other hand, maybe the old scamp musicologist took extra pride in getting his renditions of "I Can't Stand Up for Falling Down" and "Good Years for the Roses" into the upper echelons of the charts) Last week, I wrote about Marshall Crenshaw's "Cynical Girl" and how critics must have scratched their heads in wonder at the clever singer-songwriters they'd slather with praise that would never catch on beyond a loyal cult following. That's Elvis Costello, ramped up to someone people generally knew about and whose albums still sold pretty well but just didn't get the mass acceptance the press felt they deserved.
The centrepiece of one of Costello's three truly flawless albums, Imperial Bedroom (along with This Year's Model and Trust), "Man Out of Time" is its lengthiest track but it's a swift five and a half minutes nonetheless. Opening with some a chaotic (possibly drunken) rock-out from the L.P.'s early sessions, it glides smoothly into the song's piano/organ-led dream-like melody. (So effortless is the abrupt transition that you'd think it all been recorded en masse, rather than splicing together an early take of the song with the more stately recording that dominates the single) Tinkling away as if randomly at the keys, Steve Nieve's playing acts as a response to Costello's lyrics with some gentle mocking, adding some levity to what could very easily be an over-melodramatic tale. The nobleman/prominent politician depicted in the song is about to be found out, his entire life is about to crash down upon him — maybe he's going to get caught up in a sensational tabloid scandal or maybe a murder-suicide or maybe he's just a great big paranoid git who's built up guilt in his head and imagines that everything is about blow up: who the hell knows? Whether real or delusional, the pleas of "Will you still love / A man out of time?" are among the most poingiant Costello ever crafted, indicating that his own experiences or thoughts are hidden in the at least a part of this, his greatest song. (Significantly, he would divorce his first wife within two year's of the release of Imperial Bedroom, as chronicled on the flawed though somewhat misunderstood Goodbye Cruel World)
Applied to Costello as well is another meaning in the title. Clearly by 1982 he wasn't especially interested in contemporary pop — or even if he was, he certainly wasn't about to start making some of his own, or so everyone must have thought — and he was situating himself deliberately in another era. (At least as far back as the sixties but stretching even further to the days of Gershwin and Porter, two of his nibs' prime musical heroes) Drafting in Beatles engineer Geoff Emerick is evidence enough of that. Hence the lack of chart success that everyone felt he merited. But he'd soon be giving it all a rethink.
The Beatles example may have been what virtually everyone aspired towards — even if they had denied at the time — but few could have expected even a fraction of the same for themselves. Elvis Costello, a passionate devotee of every genre of music from rag time to ye ye and something of a pop music scholar, would've known that better than most.
Tim De Lisle is concerned with Costello's lack of Top 40 action, urging readers to "Buy This Now!" all the while acknowledging that his self-composed singles hadn't gotten nearly enough punters to shell out the requist bob since "Oliver's Army". (I wonder if it rankled the man a touch that following his almost number one hit he only had two more placements on the Top 10, both of which were covers; on the other hand, maybe the old scamp musicologist took extra pride in getting his renditions of "I Can't Stand Up for Falling Down" and "Good Years for the Roses" into the upper echelons of the charts) Last week, I wrote about Marshall Crenshaw's "Cynical Girl" and how critics must have scratched their heads in wonder at the clever singer-songwriters they'd slather with praise that would never catch on beyond a loyal cult following. That's Elvis Costello, ramped up to someone people generally knew about and whose albums still sold pretty well but just didn't get the mass acceptance the press felt they deserved.
The centrepiece of one of Costello's three truly flawless albums, Imperial Bedroom (along with This Year's Model and Trust), "Man Out of Time" is its lengthiest track but it's a swift five and a half minutes nonetheless. Opening with some a chaotic (possibly drunken) rock-out from the L.P.'s early sessions, it glides smoothly into the song's piano/organ-led dream-like melody. (So effortless is the abrupt transition that you'd think it all been recorded en masse, rather than splicing together an early take of the song with the more stately recording that dominates the single) Tinkling away as if randomly at the keys, Steve Nieve's playing acts as a response to Costello's lyrics with some gentle mocking, adding some levity to what could very easily be an over-melodramatic tale. The nobleman/prominent politician depicted in the song is about to be found out, his entire life is about to crash down upon him — maybe he's going to get caught up in a sensational tabloid scandal or maybe a murder-suicide or maybe he's just a great big paranoid git who's built up guilt in his head and imagines that everything is about blow up: who the hell knows? Whether real or delusional, the pleas of "Will you still love / A man out of time?" are among the most poingiant Costello ever crafted, indicating that his own experiences or thoughts are hidden in the at least a part of this, his greatest song. (Significantly, he would divorce his first wife within two year's of the release of Imperial Bedroom, as chronicled on the flawed though somewhat misunderstood Goodbye Cruel World)
Applied to Costello as well is another meaning in the title. Clearly by 1982 he wasn't especially interested in contemporary pop — or even if he was, he certainly wasn't about to start making some of his own, or so everyone must have thought — and he was situating himself deliberately in another era. (At least as far back as the sixties but stretching even further to the days of Gershwin and Porter, two of his nibs' prime musical heroes) Drafting in Beatles engineer Geoff Emerick is evidence enough of that. Hence the lack of chart success that everyone felt he merited. But he'd soon be giving it all a rethink.
With his music heritage and catholic tastes, Elvis Costello would have wanted nothing more than to compose pop music standards. While others from Ella Fitzgerald to Bob Dylan have mined the Great American Songbook, he is the type who wishes he could have added a chapter of his own ("Everyday I Write the Book" indeed), even if he's British and wouldn't and shouldn't qualify. Much as I love his work from 1978 to 1986 (though not a whole of it lot since then), I can't say he ever composed a true classic. "Oliver's Army" is of course beloved in the UK but it's not especially notable elsewhere and its lyrics have become problematic of late. "Alison" is another firm favorite (though not so much by me: there's no reason to bother with boring Elvis) but it's popularity seems tied to the generation that first encountered it back in the late seventies. Indeed, Costello appears to be fading in the public consciousness. Those fussy melodies and arrangements are all well and good but they necessarily limited the number of people who could fully appreciate his genius. Even his best songs (to wit) suffer from this.
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Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Scritti Politti: "Asylums in Jerusalem" / "Jacques Derrida"
Green Gartside's highly unprolific organization has been dealt with a lot in this space but I just can't pass up the chance to bask in their lush cleverness (there's that and I don't feel like writing about anything else in this fortnight's uninspired batch). A typically excellent double A side that nearly got them into the Top 40 which is no small feat when you consider the subject matter of the two songs. De Lisle avoids knocking them for being "too clever by half" possibly because his SOTF is the similarly swotty and persnickety Elvis Costello. The reggae-influenced "Asylums in Jerusalem" is the stronger of the two but the skiffle-esque "Jacques Derrida" isn't as heavy going as the title would suggest — and Green's rap near the end makes me wonder why he sought out the likes of Shabba Ranks and Mos Def when he was more than capable of the deed himself.
(Click here to see my original review)
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