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 By
John Brodeur
Who
would think that after almost 35 years, rarely does a year
goes by that we don’t get a new offering from the “King of
Pop,” Elvis Costello. Truly, one major complaint that
could be made about this man is that he’s too prolific—rarely
does he let the dust settle on any one project before moving
to the next. And at 16 songs (that’s not counting the half-dozen
or more bonus tracks available on various alternative versions
of the record), his new National Ransom is, in itself,
a lot to swallow, even for a guy who probably dashes off a
dozen tunes while he’s brushing his teeth.
But hindsight would show Costello’s generally strong track
record has delivered a knockout every five or six years, and
the record will go to show that National Ransom is
another high point. Again, he teams with producer T-Bone Burnett
for a largely acoustic-flavored set. But unlike the distinctly
country-flavored Secret, Profane and Sugarcane, which
suffered mostly from a lack of variety, this year’s model
is a winner because Costello tries on all his stylistic hats
in one sitting, while lamenting America’s financial errs—meaning
he’s angry, which is always a good thing.
At this point in his career nobody’s going to tell him he
can’t put certain songs together; surely, few would think
to pair a dark R&B number like “Stations of the Cross”
with the folky picking and old-timey harmonies of “A Slow
Drag With Josephine” (on which Costello whistles his way into
the sunset). This makes for an easy listen—Ransom divides
neatly into four quarters, divvied up by bright roots-rock
tunes. “Five Small Words” sounds pulled from the artist’s
Blood and Chocolate-King of America zenith,
while the title track and “I Lost You” has the heavy backbeat
and slide-guitar ring of a Tom Petty record circa Full
Moon Fever.
Costello is in such fine control of his expression at this
point, his voice having mellowed over the years, that his
harmonies are now a truly appealing blend. Take note of Elvis
the crooner on “You Hung the Moon,” a very pretty song relative
to his great “I Want to Vanish,” on which he puts a perfectly
gorgeous melody to the darkly funny (as opposed to just dark)
opening line: “You hung the moon/From a gallows in the sky.”
Burnett’s production is simply pristine. On “One Bell Ringing,”
you can picture the players in the room—a muted trumpet playing
harmony, a bass clarinet gone rogue—as Costello sings a dark
folk tune reminiscent of Richard Thompson. Thompson’s spirit
is also felt in “The Spell That You Cast,” where the angular
guitar riffs and signature farfisa power-pop of the Attractions’
heyday mixes with the mandolins of latter-day Elvis work.
Costello toured with Bob Dylan a few years ago, and it would
appear he made off with whatever of Bobby’s old spirit was
left milling around. And so, Ransom’s best track is
actually the least adorned. “Bullets for the New-Born
King” presents just the singer and his acoustic guitar, with
a lyric that is among the album’s darkest (“So where are those
traitors now, we once called patriots?/Just like those saints
who seem to revel in their sins”) and a performance that is
probably what should be expected from a guy who, again, routinely
plays 10-song acoustic sets before breakfast. Speaking of
breakfast, you can buy this album at your local Starbucks,
which is weirdly subversive considering its greed-is-bad tone.
But Elvis needs to buy his coffee, so . . .
 From
one old dude to another: Legendary producer and instrumentalist
Brian Eno is back with his first solo album in five
years, Small Craft on a Milk Sea. The big news is that
it’s on the Warp label—it’s pretty cool for the guy who pretty
much invented “ambient” music to be putting an album out on
the label synonymous (thanks largely to one Richard “Aphex
Twin” James) with bringing “ambient” to the masses in the
1990s.
That choice of distributor should also give a clue as to the
album’s content: No lyrics this time, but rather a comprehensive
overview of why Brian Eno’s contribution to modern music should
be bronzed and put on God’s mantlepiece. From the Aphex-esque
float of “Complex Heaven” to the tribal rhythms and gushes
of white noise on “Flint March,” Eno’s biggest moves here
are suggestive. Milk Sea is a record for the next Ice
Age, all long stretches of anticipation with brief moments
of release. When “Two Forms of Anger” finally breaks into
propulsive drums and guitar dissonance after two-and-a-half
minutes, it does so for less than 60 seconds. It’s not music
to discuss, really, but to experience—and on that front, it’s
highly recommended.
 Now
that it’s finally here in context we can talk about Cee
Lo Green’s “Fuck You” and its corresponding LP, The
Lady Killer. This third solo collection from the former
Goodie Mob rapper comes almost seven years after the Southern-rap
exploration Cee Lo Green . . . is the Soul Machine;
more importantly, it comes on the heels of two successful
albums as the singing half of Gnarls Barkley. And now that
he’s a pop star, he’s more or less required to make pop record.
So he leads with a single whose name cannot be spoken or printed
in most media?
Joke’s on us, as the modern paradigm allows for an indelible
throwback pop song like “Fuck You” to break through as a hit
despite its supposed handicap. Here’s hoping that success
pushes the album up the charts, too, as The Lady Killer
is fun through and through, blending commercial but intelligent
dance-pop with smoky slow jams that recall Isaac Hayes and
Curtis Mayfield. It sounds like a movie soundtrack album (a
major compliment).
The arrangements really seem to be the focus here: Green has
personality to spare, but he’s also an accomplished artist
that knows how to handle a song. Meaning he doesn’t get in
its way—he even yields the microphone for the chorus of “Satisfied.”
“Wildflower” comes off like an ’80s Philip Bailey R&B
tune; Bailey himself makes an appearance on the Jack Splash-produced
“Fool for You.” On The Lady Killer, Cee-Lo Green brings
us sexy songs that don’t sound depraved, with music that frequently
alludes to old-school soul and spy-movie themes. That’s a
recipe for success in my book.
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