LA Citybeat review of North

[johnfoyle]

see

http://www.lacitybeat.com/article.php?i ... ssueNum=14
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Issue Number 14 - 09-11-03

His Aim Is True Love
by Chris Morris


Even longtime fans familiar with Elvis Costello’s
musical adventuring over the last decade – a restless,
not always satisfying odyssey that has included
collaborations with the Brodsky Quartet, Anne Sofie
von Otter, Burt Bacharach, and the Mingus Big Band,
among others – may be surprised by Costello’s new
album, North.

The record, due in stores September 23, is unusual on
a number of accounts. It can be called a concept
album: In 40 economical minutes, Costello whips his
listeners through the terminus of one love affair and
the blossoming of another. (One might surmise that the
subject matter is inspired by the end of the
musician’s long marriage to Cait O’Riordan and his
wooing of his bride-to-be, singer-pianist Diana Krall,
but we’ll leave that to the tabloids.)

In a sharp volte-face from last year’s rock-based set
When I Was Cruel, Costello sets down his guitar on 10
of the album’s 11 tracks; the songs are dominated by
Steve Nieve’s subdued piano, and embellished on some
numbers by a 48-piece horn and string ensemble. There
isn’t a rocker to be heard: Ballads comprise the
entire album.

Clearly, the sound of North was inspired by Costello’s
longtime affection for classical American pop
songwriting; the album resounds with echoes of such
keystone works as Frank Sinatra’s In the Wee Small
Hours and Billie Holiday’s Lady in Satin. He attempted
to demonstrate his affinity for and facility with that
style on his 1998 duo recording with Bacharach,
Painted from Memory, but, with the exception of the
potent “God Give Me Strength” (actually composed for
Allison Anders’s 1996 film Grace of My Heart), the
partnership produced music that was fussy, mannered,
and meandering.

On North, however, everything works brilliantly,
thanks to the simplicity and almost unsettling
nakedness of the lyrics, and to the warmth,
vulnerability, and humanity Costello projects on every
song.

Though tenderness is not entirely unknown in his work,
Costello will always be best known for his vengeful,
bile-spitting tunes about the lovers who have trampled
him. North should blow away that conception once and
for all. It’s a mature and beautifully measured
statement about the pain of romantic loss and the
glowing possibilities of romantic rebirth.
Emotionally, it’s the most grown-up album he’s ever
made. To that, some might say, “About fucking time.”

The record divides fairly neatly down the middle. The
first five songs confront the effects of a
relationship’s end – the staggering moment when one
realizes it’s all over, the speechlessness and
sleeplessness that follow, and the breath-stopping
understanding that a season has changed in the soul.
The last six tracks examine the unfolding of a new
love – its unexpected arrival, the giddiness and
almost adolescent exhilaration of it, and the
sweetness of surrender.

In an unprecedented gambit, Costello keeps a tight
grip on his pen. Especially in recent years, he has
seldom been able to resist a baroquely turned phrase,
even if it obscured the meaning or dulled the impact
of his song. But on North, Costello opts for
directness above all else. You may never have expected
to hear him sing “I long to hear you whisper my name,”
but, by God, he does on “Can You Be True?”

Some arrangements are big, even enormous, but they
never swamp the proceedings; the focus is always on
Costello’s ardent voice and Nieve’s pitch-perfect
keyboards. There are a couple of lovely instrumental
contributions: Jazz veteran Lee Konitz offers a
wonderful alto coda on “Someone Took the Words Away,”
and Lew Soloff contributes a Miles Davis-like muted
flugelhorn to the exuberant “Let Me Tell You About
Her.”

In all, it’s an amazing, powerfully affecting record –
one of those rare midnight-to-dawn albums that pierces
you right where you live. North is not an artless
record – in fact, the complexity of its creation is on
display in every cut – but it projects the feeling of
artlessness, for we are hearing Elvis Costello alone
with his bruised but healing heart.


© 2003 Southland Publishing, All Rights Reserved
Designed and Developed by R7 Media.

[HungupStrungup]

Thanks, jfoyle! That's what I call a concise and well-written review.

Though tenderness is not entirely unknown in his work, Costello will always be best known for his vengeful, bile-spitting tunes about the lovers who have trampled him. North should blow away that conception once and for all.

If that could only be true at last!

[migdd]

Wow! Finally a review of an Elvis album written by someone who not only seems to have a good knowledge of what Elvis does but who also actually took the time to listen to and absorb the album before writing a critique. I doubt we will see this caliber of review in Rolling Stone!

[Otis Westinghouse]

Well I'll take that over the Independent's one, any day. And I'm relieved to find the review rates it above PFM - my fear has been that it would only be as good as or worse than that, but this makes it all sound much more exciting.

[bobster]

Great review. (If I'm not mixing him up with someone else, Chris Morris is among the good guys here in town and, if I'm not mistaken, was once a member of one of the big L.A. punk bands...Black Flag? The Germs??)

But why does everyone, the esteemed Mr. Westinghouse included, keep knocking PFM?

I wonder how much of how you feel about that album depends on your feelings about Bacharach? (Yes, some deny it, but there is an element of cheese with BB, but -- except for the #$#@ he did in the eighties -- it's all first quality gouda, if you ask me!)

[Goody2Shoes]

I love Bacharach and I'm fond of PFM, but it is never the first disc I reach for when I have an EC hankering. I have to admit that I have asked myself how much I would like it if it were someone other than EC with Bacharach. That is your observation sort of turned around, bobster.

That said, Bacharach is the King of Cheese (see "The Blob"). I got a 3-disc BB box set for my birthday on Sunday and we've been cheesin' out all week. But for every cheesey one, there are 10 masterpieces.

My inner fourth-grader loves cheese. Can't help it. Or maybe I just have lousy taste.

Yeah, probably that.

[spooky girlfriend]

That's a very complimentary review.

I admit to having had doubts about this, but I am looking forward to it.

[bobster]

"The Blob" (performed by, who else, the Four Blobs) is prime grade A fromage.

As is my personal favorite, "Me Japanese Boy, I Love You" -- believe it or not this was supposed to be a goodwill gesture for the Tokyo Olympics; it's a good thing, because otherwise the lyrics would have fully justified a second Japanese invasion attempt. Actually, though, the music is quite lovely and the good intentions pretty much show through the ridiculous pidgin English. (We all know that people in other countries are just speaking bad English when they pretend to be speaking all those fancy foreign tongues!)

Not Hal David's best moment. "Me American Boy, I'm Slightly Embarrassed."

[Goody2Shoes]

Actually, it's the Five Blobs, but who's counting?

Me Japanese Boy I Love You. You're right, it is embarrassing.

Other cheese that springs to mind--"Blue Guitar", sung by, of all people, Richard Chamberlain.

"Wives and Lovers", a song about how women are obligated not to "let themselves go" after marriage.

But is "Wives and Lovers" truly cheesey or is it just dated? Or is that the same thing?

[spooky girlfriend]

Yes to both, Goody.

And I'm trying not to let myself go.

[bobster]

Once again I am stricken by the heartbreak of "mysterious accidental double post followed by dissappearing delete button" syndrome.

See below for actual post.

[bobster]

I don't think "Wives and Lovers" is sexist at all!

You want proof? Just switch the genders.

See below!

Hey, little boy,
Comb your hair, fix your hair, pull your pants up.
Soon she will open the door.
Don't think because
There's a ring on your finger,
You needn't try any more

For dudes should always be lovers, too.
Run to her arms the moment she comes home to you.
I'm warning you.

Day after day,
There are guys at the office,
And gals will always be gals.
Don't send her off
With your with your toup still in the closet.
You may not see her again.

For dudes should always be lovers, too.
Run to her arms the moment she comes home to you.
She's almost here.

Hey, little boy
Better wear something pretty,
something you'd wear to go to the city.
And dim all the lights,
Pour the wine, start the music.
Time to get ready for love.

Oh, time to get ready,
Time to get ready,
Time to get ready
For love.

[Goody2Shoes]

You're funny!

"Don't send her off with your toup still in the closet"!

I'm dying!