Elvis Costello

I think that after years of writing about musicians and their music, when it really comes down to nuts and bolts I find the strongest connections to the ones who are the best storytellers. For me, they’re the modern day poets. And as much as it would more popular to admit that classic poetry doesn’t do it for me…I can’t.

I think that anyone who has spent anytime writing anything, has to admit what kind of skill it takes to create words in a way that not only describe the message you’re trying to convey, but to have the tempo and diction embody the same emotion is something that not everyone can do. Rarely you get artists who can do it well. And then there are the ones who can put it to music….and here we find Elvis Costello.

Growing up, I was never an outwardly massive fan. I suppose that growing up in the 80’s, I just sort of accepted him as just another muso on the radio. Pop tunes. Some would stick in your head. Some wouldn’t. But from the birds eye view of a child under 15, I’m pretty convinced that his storytelling went straight over my head, but the beauty is that the music didn’t.

I reckon it wasn’t until I really started to curate my music library from random CD’s and bits and pieces from an Mp3 player into something the president of the OCD for Freedom Facebook group would be proud of, that I really started to take regular journeys back into retro archives to begin gathering memories as opposed to new music. It was here that I began growing a new found love for Elvis and his way with words.

Elvis Costello is quite unlike anyone else I have ever come across. Not because his music is that super different, it’s fairly catchy and always on the outskirts of the  popular mainstream, but because of his unique ability to merge an intelligent and seemingly harmless prose with an underlying venom, saved purposely for the ‘establishment’.

You see, my long held belief [and I’ve been known to be wrong on more than one occasion], is that he represents the awkwardness and unconventionality of the ‘every man’ and brings their message to the larger audience. I mean look at him, he looks like the lovechild of Buddy Holly and a young Mark Mothersbaugh…but cool as shit. And, it’s never once dawned on me that this was unintentional.

When it boils down to tacks though, he’s simply a switched on motherfucker with a whole lot to say.

Even a small attempt at drilling down into his early albums which hold a lot of the familiar songs you may [or may not] know, you’ll find that there is an extremely prominent theme of well crafted activism that threads through his lyrics. Sometimes classed as a cantankerous punk, his innate nature to say his peace and let the cards fall where they may has both opened and closed doors everywhere. But polarising an audience is the trademark of any great artist I think.

Let’s try and break this down a bit huh. If you take the lyrics of a reasonably well known track like ‘Radio, Radio‘. When I was young, this was just a super catchy pop song I would hear along side a John Farnham track, or the Eagles or Psuedo Echo. But the more we really look at the lyrics and the message behind them, there is a very clear swipe at the mainstream media.

With the chorus cheerfully crying:

Radio is a sound salvation
Radio is cleaning up the nation
They say you better listen to the voice of reason
But they don’t give you any choice
‘Cause they think that it’s treason
So you had better do as you are told
You better listen to the radio

I can see this being as relevant to day as it was when he wrote it in 1978. If you do a little interweb searching, you’ll even find a wonderfully anarchic story about how he was replacing the Sex Pistols on a Saturday Night Live episode in December 77′ and was clearly told not to play ‘Radio, Radio’ because of the political overtones. Needless to say, he went live, played the song and was banned for the next dozen years. Saying it was actually inspired by Hendrix who did a similar thing then years previous on another live show, I suspect that his ability to not be bowed by…a television show seemed quite radical at the time.

Hence….the premise of the song.
Aaaaaaaaand, we’ve come full circle.

I even remember singing it as a kid. And when we think back on the great songwriters of the last century who have made statements about an unjust system, artists like Dylan, Lennon or Sting that may first come to peoples minds, a lot of people wouldn’t put Costello into that category.

I spose his 25 [!?] studio albums, multiple Grammy’s, an induction to the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame, an OBE, countless artist who have been influenced by him including  Green Day, Prince, Billy Bragg, the Pogues, Radiohead, Dexys Midnight Runners, Pulp, Crowded House and Foo Fighters plus another extensive list of collaborators including Madness, Tony Bennett, Burt Bacharach, Chet Baker, Lucinda Williams, Johnny Cash, Kid Rock & Brian Eno would disagree.

So often as just ordinary people, we sometimes forget that these artists are simply people. Sure, they’ve created some amazingly influential work. I expect thats what a great deal of us would like at some stage, to know that we’ve made a difference of some sort.

But I was happy enough to enjoy Elvis and all his finely crafted words until my brother in law [an avid fan and someone I trust to pull the gems from what the general public can often bypass] asked me one day whether I would be up for seeing Elvis at Hamer Hall because he’s in town and he might be able to get a few of the remaining tix.

For those that aren’t familiar with this venue, it’s fucking amazing….for so many reasons. But as a visual artist, every time I get the opportunity to go there, I just sit back and wonder how many paddle pop sticks it would take to replicate something like that.

Add top the mix a live Elvis Costello gig, and well, its an easy yes from me.

So I rock up to meet Stephen and in true theatrical Stephen fashion, he explains that the seats aren’t great and he could only get a few near the back in the stalls. I’m like a kid in a candy store where I don’t give a fuck what candy I’m getting. I am just loving the chance to be there.

So we make our way to the stairway to the stalls as he takes a nice diversion to the ground floor, shows our tickets and proceeds to seat us in the sixth row. If you look at the image I’ve added, its the exact entrance we entered from, and we were about two or three seats in the centre section. Holy Fuckoly! Steph! How the?!?!?… What the?!?!?

…and it proceeded to be everything I’d hoped Elvis to be in concert. Add to that the fact that it was intimate and the sound was amazing […and the obligitory 50′ year old ladies with their husbands at an arms length dancing near the stage like no can tell they’re on their 8th chardonnay].

Like a lot of reviews I write, I feel as though I’ve simply scratched the surface of the depth that is Elvis Costello. But I also know there are a billion articles out there cataloguing his career to within an inch if its life, but Nighthawks isn’t about that. It’s about the impact Elvis has had on me personally and how only after spending countless days choosing his music while I spend the day plugging away at someones website, business card or logo, I have found a truly rich love for his point of view.

It’s why I don’t think there is anyone else like him. Because it seems that no matter whether it’s with ‘The Attractions’, ‘The Imposters’ or one of the countless collaborators he’s worked with, his stories transcend. Revealing little bits and pieces about sadness, injustice or even the tragedy of British teen soldiers being tempted to serve in as an alternative to unemployment in places such as Belfast at a time that was notoriously dangerous.

See, we all know the tune and very often we forget to stop and pay attention to the story. Maybe its the ABBA-esque piano through the melody that put us all off track. Either way, it might just make you stop and wonder what he is saying next time you hear a familiar Elvis Costello song and give you the opportunity to enjoy both the song AND the story.

M /

~ Article Updated March 2020