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There's a Tuli Hupferberg four liner running around my brain . . . caught it! "The cinemagicians created people so real they were able to walk off the screen and enter real life. They all got jobs in television". Not all. Some became pop musicians. Elvis Costello: so real he's unreal. So plain - extraordinary. Well, really, you have to admire such a faultless, painstaking, methodical image. An image full of the necessary paradoxes and contradictions. To seduce us suckers. (Sigh) I don't care about Elvis Costello. I respect him. His craftsmanship. Dip in —twist-turn-burn-cuddle — delightful. His cunning and initiative and I suppose his all-round ability. Certainly, his image for the most has been shrewdly self-created. A "rock n' roller". A modern Pop Act. Loose/Intense. Uncaring/ Obsessive. Jerky and insinuating. Just so ... right. It's great when he plays alone. A tantalising glimpse at the loose heart separated from the image. Noise-chords, thicker than scratchy but not much, a voice close to pleading but not too much. But standing alone with strings and box. Fragility is not traditional or appealing enough. A little foolish really (titter . . .). So, his band helps him out. Wonderful executors, experienced helpers, visually appealing they are clean and close for Elvis Three D to stand out . . . imagine it like one of those hard backed pop-fairy tale books. A fashionable four-piece pop group with energy, integrity, incision . . . fashionable. This year's model, oh sure, Elvis Costello and The Attraction(sic). (. . . a break for a chat with a friend, mopping the worry beads from my forehead. Is Elvis Costello sexy: "... no thank you . . . he's one of the most un-sexual people I could ever imagine ..."). The north west's first introduction to a strange London minstrel, at the time his first Stiff single "Alison" was an endearing rough 'n' modern ballad sending ripples down trendies’ straight legs, was when Tony Wilson brought him north for the then tea-time "What's On!" Costello did an awkward single-handed "Alison" and though it impressed there was no aura or magic to suggest greatness. Neat song, but Costello's no crooner. Not sincere enough. He looked eccentric and mysterious enough to suggest he could make an impact in such times of turmoil and apparent open mindedness, though who could have foreseen...? Sure enough, a couple more singles, the steady "My Aim Is True" album and a few gigs with the group. About this time his mystique was high, reputation unsoiled, image in early stages of development etc. etc. etc. I conversed with him at that time. He was, of course, non-committal and politely oblique, not keen on any distortion or misrepresentation. He was busily building a firm myth upon which to bounce right into your lives.
He spieled about the ultimate unimportance of his act, rock 'n' roll, being all about going to a club, drinking your beer, picking up a chick blah (flirting with ironies). He sneered at the press and trendies, despised ignorance, and pretensions, emphasised that he was just a pop musician, pop singer/songwriter, nothing more, no Art crap, implied impermanence, wasn't concerned with who his audience was and didn't smile at all. He didn't buckle at questions aimed at analysing intentions. He opened the door slightly on the past. ("I've been around, playing songs") and not on the future. He was no help. But then he was never meant to be. He had no five favourite words. He had four. "My Aim is True". The dots on the image were quickly filled in. One of those blocks where, depending on how you slant the image, it comes out black and white or technicolour. Yes, another abstract facet of the all-embracing all-purposeful El Cos! There was a shot early on at worming into the housewives’ hearts, a few dots shaded in the process.
A routine chat with Mavis Nicholson on "Afternoon", enlivened by Costello doing his stand-up tragic routine, with the man contriving to sustain bewilderment concerning age. "I am twenty-three" he maintained. And married. Oh, how deadpan! Coupled with the expression verging on frightened. Of course, he was lying about his age. We knew that, but why add five years to your life? Elvis Costello is really eighteen. Purporting experience to lend credibility for his cruel, hard lyrical swipes at daily duties and attitudes? Emphasising the absurdity of age? Sure! Costello is really closer to 30 than not. Except on Bank Holidays, when he's six. The image was almost full as 1977 faded. It was a good year. Elvis Costello had contributed mightily to the reputable areas of the New Wave. He had been on the hippest label. With the hippest producer. A paid-up member of the hippest clan. A success on the grooviest tour of the year. Oh, marvy marvy. Next: Hit single, Top of the Pops — the final dots. He signed for Radar Records, shrewdly anticipating what would be this year's hippest label. Just following the procedure, ooh ooh ooh, it's so cute. Low Key approach to America. Interview number two with Nick Kent, opening up now the myth matters little.
And touring, coming your way soon with a cool, swinging, biting show that has "Rock 'n' Roll Star" stamped all over it. The Attractions a unit, Elvis moving. An unnerving repertoire of songs snatched from heroes (the 'On the Beach' guitar at the end of "Chelsea" is so-o-o sweet) arranged with holes, angularly (a word for to-day's music), to dance to. No wonder he's so popular. Who can resist the totality of it all? He even laughs at himself by calling his album "This Year's Model", and you can take that how you want. As a cult, he was last year's as a star, this years and next year...? Too big to care. Elvis Costello. The perfect rock 'n' roller for 1978. I don't care for Elvis Costello (there's no room for perfection in rock 'n' roll?!!?) Elvis Costello doesn't care for you. And you don't care.
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