Elvis Costello King Of America Album Review

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BY Mark Coleman   |  March 27, 1986

Elvis Costello's got it bad. On King of America, the choir of the aboriginal song sets the atoning tone: "I was a accomplished abstraction at the time/Now I'm a ablaze mistake." Elvis isn't absolutely accepted for his brilliant disposition, but actuality he sounds aching and torn - not baffled but absolutely down for the count, even his accordant ability algid by pain. Abundant as Springsteen did on Nebraska, Elvis has bald his agreeable structures down to the girders and affronted his eye to the American landscape, analytic through hillbilly gin mills and Hollywood clichés for a little catharsis. Ultimately, he doesn't acquisition whatever affecting beaker he's after, but this brooding, adventuresome LP offers some acceptable moments.


It's simple to brainstorm a hardly balked Elvis Costello absent to agitate the branches a bit. His endure two LPs - Punch the Clock and Goodbye Cruel World - accept been abundantly abandoned by almanac buyers, admitting they accommodate some of his a lot of pungent, affecting compositions: "Shipbuilding," "Peace in Our Time," "Everyday I Write the Book," "The Alone Flame in Town," for starters. These annal aswell apparent producers Clive Langer and Alan Winstanley's clarification of the Attractions' bar-band assortment into a seamless, abundantly textured groove, aggrandized by abrupt horns and articulate harmonies.


Contrast that complete with the sparse, guitar-based arrange on King of America; it's as if Elvis and coproducer T-Bone Burnett approved to bald the Costello body by case abroad the layers of Brit-pop artifice. (And for the aboriginal time the songs are accustomed to Mac-Manus, rather than the bearding Costello.) On all but one track, the Attractions accept been replaced by a aggregation of Los Angeles sessioneers (including allegorical guitarist James Burton), who are apparently bigger able to adviser Elvis down the "boulevard of torn dreams" declared in "Brilliant Mistake." But their added relaxed, aloof clip puts burden on Costello the singer; after a pumping exhausted abaft him, Elvis gets bogged down. Whereas his antecedent albums accept been footraces, with the adviser consistently a footfall or two behind, King of America is apt to affect some impatience.


The LP is blowzy with dozens of memorable curve but alone a scattering of articular songs. "Brilliant Mistake" and the side-two opener, "American After Tears," action the accepted community hooks, but in both, choruses bore beneath the weight of verses. As it turns out in "Brilliant Mistake," the Baron of America is a hapless sod, and he's absent his affection to a bimbo who wears "unspeakable" aroma and claims to plan for ABC News - "It was as abundant of the alphabet as she knew how to use." By Costello's standards, that's a adequately anemic put-down, and it's hardly helped by his banausic Dylanesque delivery. Burton's guitar adds a abandoned aroma to "American After Tears," while Elvis' nasal carol renders the choir indelible: "Now we don't allege any English/Just American after tears." But what does that mean? The song itself, an expatriate's circuitous narrative, clouds rather than clarifies the chorus.


Still, his eye for cogent detail hasn't gone absolutely out of focus. "Our Little Angel" is a blah bake song for a abutting accessory of George Jones' "Girl at the End of the Bar," and amid the controlled anxious of the articulate and Burton's admirable guitar and dobro lines, it's one of Elvis' best country excursions. Burton apprehension Elvis up on the game-show sendup "Glitter Gulch," his accelerated rockabilly acrimonious amplifying the claustrophobia of the chorus: "All the vultures affability into Glitter Gulch/Are searching in on you/And they're hungry." On "Indoor Fireworks" Elvis avalanche aback on addition accurate access - demography a individual allegory and aberrant an absolute song about it. Admitting the angel itself may assume slight - the affronted adolescent Elvis would've tossed off "indoor fireworks" in a individual band and confused on - it's adequate by the additional acoustic guitar accessory and Elvis' accidental but abiding reading. Yet if he allotment to Britain on the actual next cut, "Little Palaces," the appropriately chastened guitar and mandolin abetment just underscores the maudlin, arrogant accent of the lyric. One Ray Davies is added than abundant for the British alive chic to bear.


Ever back Get Happy, Elvis Costello has gradually congenital a acceptability as an analyst of added people's songs. So while it's not hasty that King of America's centerpiece is a awning version, it's absolute abominable what Elvis does - and doesn't do - to the Animals' "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood." The rhythm's a bit jazzier, but basically it's what the aboriginal would accept articulate like had Eric Burdon been on his deathbed. Elvis' wheezes and croaks are alarming - they complete like they were recorded in a ward, not a studio. It's boxy not to be blurred if you're gargling on your own bile.


King of America is not after its lighter moments, however. It contains some of the loosest being Costello's committed to vinyl. "Lovable" is a beautiful little abhorrence valentine, all acidity and heavy-handed irony, but it's put over by a simple, animated melody and a articulate abetment from David Hidalgo of Los Lobos. The Fifties aeon section "Eisenhower Blues" is disposable, but "The Big Light" is addition Burton-fueled rockabilly babble that rings funny and true: who abroad but Elvis would get a hangover that "had a personality"?


In the end this anthology just exudes angelic adversity from every pore - even the jokes are at the author's expense. Steve Nieve's accustomed piano and agency lift the pallor appreciably if the Attractions pop up on "Suit of Lights," but afresh Elvis' singing sounds awkward, and the words appear off down-covered and overreaching. Elvis Costello seems a lot of abiding of himself on "I'll Abrasion It Proudly," in which he claims the acme of addition baron - the Baron of Fools. "And you can all die laughing/Cos I'll abrasion it proudly." Martyrdom's a blue-blooded profession, but pop music needs its adventurous muckraker now added than ever.

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