Elvis Costello & the Impostors
Momofuku
Lost Highway
By Mike Randall
Through the many phases of Elvis Costello’s career, no matter the project, he’s always managed to maintain the credibility of The Clash with the allegorical integrity of Bob Dylan. Even in recent years, when it’s seemed Costello has dabbled in a little bit of this and a little bit of that merely as a way to keep himself interested, he’s still been an intriguing figure to follow both in terms of the musical choices he’s made and the cronies he’s partnered with. From forays into classical composition (Il Sogno), voyages down Mississippi’s rustic dirt roads (The Delivery Man) or a political-minded ode to post-Katrina New Orleans (The River in Reverse), Costello has seemingly gone into all his latest work with a clear conceptual plan. While all are great records worthy of a spin, they’re written with a composer’s hand and lack the rawness and spontaneity of some of his earlier albums.
With the Imposters back in the fold on Momofuku, it seems like the angry young man has returned and he’s brought back his edge. Culled from short sessions that clearly relinquish any sort of true musical concept, Momofuku is reminiscent of the rock records Costello used to make; songs, as opposed to ideas, take center stage, and Costello tears through his most urgent and accessible work in years.
Costello walks the line of the seedy side of patriotism, blurring political commentary through tales of scorned characters and the truth, or lack thereof, among lovers, friends and leaders. The opening Heartbreaker-esque rock-and-roll of “No Hiding Place” sets the stage and makes it clear Costello has re-stocked his supply of acrimony and attitude. “Walk up to me and say what you said/Let’s see how brave you are when I’m about this far away,” he sings with a swagger above a slice of Americana guitar. He’s clearly not in a flag-waving mood on “American Gangster Time,” however, as with Highway 61 inflection he sings, “It’s a drag saluting that starry rag/I’d rather go blind for speaking my mind than use it like a gag,” using driving rock and a tale of a woman who’s deteriorated at the hands of her country as his canvas. Marriages are falling apart (the lounge-y “Harry Worth”), women are being passed around (the hard-rockin’ “Stella Hurt”) and nerves are shaking at the hands of a lover (the soulful “Flutter and Wow”) – it’s the worst of America and it’s never sounded better, especially coming from a Briton.
Aside from the Imposters, Costello is joined by a slew of guests, all who seem to energize him and most importantly the music. Among others, Los Lobos’ David Hidalgo contributes guitar and Dave Scher adds a host of dimension with his pedal steel, while Jenny Lewis contributes strong backing vocals on over half the record, adding a subtle counterpoint to Costello’s smooth delivery. She’s great as Costello attempts to make sense of love on the countrified rocker “Song With Rose,” as Costello wonders, “So, where but heaven does love end/And where on earth does it begin,” but her shining moment comes during her harmonies on the acoustic boogie, “Drum & Bone.” It would have been nice to hear her during “Pardon Me, Madam, My Name is Eve,” a track Costello co-wrote with Loretta Lynn, but finding him in a woman’s role coming across an ex-lover’s new girlfriend is worth her omission, especially as he sings with sass, “I don’t believe that we have met/That’s one thing that you would not forget.”
As a musician and songwriter of the very highest caliber, everyone knows Elvis Costello has it in him to make whatever kind of record he wants, and he’s been on a pace to do just that. While it’s fantastic to see him sharing a hand-woven rug with Allen Toussaint or running through Burt Bacharach’s catalog, it’s still nice to know Costello still has the fire in him. Judging by the toe-tapping “Hoodoo Voodoo” of the album-ending “Go Away,” he even seems to be enjoying himself.
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