Wednesday, Jul 9, 2008
Thumb-wrestling my way through a concert by the once great Elvis Costello. Plus: Edward Norton's favorite band, and free music from John "The Breakfast Club" Hughes' son.
Jul 21, 2004 | Last Saturday I went to the Lincoln Center's Avery Fisher Hall to see a real live fallen angel, the once great Elvis Costello. His debased status was made official last year with his marriage to Diana Krall: It's simply incomprehensible to me that a great artist could fall in love with someone so artistically vapid, even insidious ... ergo, Costello must no longer be a great artist.
The first half of the program was devoted to a concert performance of Costello's hour-long orchestral ballet, "Il Sogno," which it's hard to view as anything but a hubristic vanity project. Jon Pareles, in the New York Times, described the work in a few sentences while diplomatically avoiding any pronouncements on its quality, but the New Yorker's Alex Ross, writing in his excellent blog, didn't pull any punches: "I did something I've never done in twelve years of reviewing concerts in New York: I got out a book and started to read. My brain needed something else to grasp on to -- I felt like I was clawing the air and plummeting."
I feel his pain: My girlfriend and I, sans book and having read the very dull program cover to cover, resorted to a lengthy thumb-war tournament, much to the disgust of the rather starched-up couple behind us. To be fair, while "Il Sogno" is boring, tremendously boring, it's not bad. It's actually astonishingly competent for anyone's first attempt at orchestral writing -- but it's the rare prodigy whose first attempt at orchestral writing merits performance at the Avery Fisher Hall.
The second half of the concert was devoted, mercifully, to Costello's songs. He sang accompanied by the Brooklyn Philharmonic, as well as the always excellent Greg Cohen on bass and Steve Nieve on piano. Nieve was the keyboardist in Costello's band, the Attractions, and has been his almost constant musical sidekick, but he is a truly horrendous and tasteless piano accompanist, and should never be allowed near a 9-foot grand. The songs were uneven -- many were culled from the less-memorable corners of the Costello catalogue ("The Juliet Letters," "North"), while some of the classics sounded uncomfortable being dragged into this world of strings, dragging tempos and turgid piano arrangements.
But for all that, I was spellbound. Over the last decade, Costello has developed, quite unexpectedly, into a great torch singer. His vibrato can go a little bit overboard, sometimes even making it ambiguous what note he's trying to sing, but his phrasing is both impeccable and distinctive. And most important, I always believe him.
I've been overwhelmed with e-mail recently, but I'm reading it all, and replying to as much as I can. Apologies if you haven't received a response. I will also be spending some time in Table Talk, at the Wednesday Morning Download thread, so stop in there if you want to chat.
"The Beast," The King of France, from "Untitled"
The King of France does not have a record deal, and the band's shows are sparsely attended, but I am fully confident that one day they will be legendary. That may seem like an extreme statement, but this King inspires extreme devotion: The small fan base is among the most obsessive I've ever encountered (and includes Edward Norton, who dedicates half of his new iTunes Celebrity Playlist to songs by the King of France). The reason for this devotion is not immediately clear: The band is not particularly hip or young, it does not sound anything like trendy influence du jour the Gang of Four, and while keyboardist Tom Siler's hair is shaggy, it's not shaggy in a hipster Williamsburg just-got-out-of-bed kind of way, but more in a (still not cool, as far as I know) mullet kind of way. Their secret? They are just very, very good. What do they sound like? I could list off possible influences and possible comparisons (the Pixies, the Velvet Underground, Nilsson, Pavement, the Kinks, etc.), but playing the influences game with the King of France feels particularly futile (and besides, I suspect it all boils down to Dylan and the Beatles in the end -- everything does). In an age of overwhelmingly derivative rock music, the King of France is simply a great rock band, one that draws extensively and subtly on the great rock bands of the past without ever allowing the weight of history to overwhelm its singular vision. There are three demos available for free on their Web page, but I urge you to spend a couple dollars and hear this band at its best. Download "The Beast," "Notion" and "Sick of Life" from iTunes, all off the King of France's as-yet-untitled new record. And if you're disappointed ... ummm, blame Edward Norton. (iTunes)
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