Beacon Theatre
New York, NY
You didn’t misread that date: I’m not sure what the statute of limitations on a show review is but I’m drawing a line in the sand on the happy side of eight-and-a-half years. This might set a dangerous precedent, though. Do memories have half-lives? If the heart of a review is mostly facts with some opinion, maybe this and the ensuing “reviews” ought to be filed under “anecdotes” or “early onset yammerings of a young writer at the beginning of his slow demise.” We’ve seen Twelve Angry Men, we know how much good memory can do. But these long-term memories were formed before my brain stopped really making them what for being on the Internet all day. Adaptability! What was I talking about?
Oh, I haven’t started yet.
Elvis Costello and those there un-Attractions were the first band I saw at the Beacon Theatre. I had no idea that six long years after this first show, I’d be living just a couple of blocks away from the theatre, regularly eating at the diner two doors down from it. It’s a beautiful place to see a show and I’ve been back a couple of times since (though not to see the Allman Brothers, so it was probably on two of the five nights they weren’t there). Our seats that night in ’02 were a level up, halfway back and towards stage left.
What set the evening right apart is what brought this memory recently back. I told this very anecdote/yammering at the Muse show I just went to because both bands faced a similar demon in a malfunctioning PA. Muse’s speaker failure was, in keeping with their style, dramatic, loud and spectacular. Elvis Costello’s technical difficulties were patchy and intermittent rather than singular.
He started off the evening with “45,” one of many catchy and upbeat songs from his album at the time, When I Was Cruel, which itself was a pretty great and prototypical Elvis Costello pop record, not one of his more experimental, under-hat-based endeavors. Just seconds in, the speakers were staticky and he began looking offstage, furious or pleading that the technology wasn’t working correctly. These mechanical issues continued for three songs, also spanning “Mystery Dance” and “Clubland.” So it was during “Clubland” that Elvis Costello went ahead and demonstrated another side of the badassness that made his Saturday Night Live appearance from twenty-five years earlier so memorable.
He left the stage after choppy versions of those three songs but after a short delay came back with a vengeance and an acoustic guitar. It’s still one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen: He moved out to the edge of the stage and had the attention of every set of ears in the place. Everyone was quiet. And there, with no microphone, Elvis Costello treated a couple of thousand of us to an alarmingly personal, wonderfully intimate version of “(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes.” He had the whole audience with him, smashing to bits any residual disappointment in the quality of the concert to that point. He also bought his crew some time to address the issue in the most showmanly way possible. I think lesser performers might have waited out the problem, but he was also able to capitalize on what he had going for him: A powerful, nearly operatic voice; a patient, slightly older and certainly doting audience; a venue that would helpfully comply. Who knows if the song was originally on the setlist for that night anyway? Could have been. Didn’t matter either way. It was phenomenal.
It could have been because of the earlier problems that he continued to pay the audience back by playing no fewer than four (4) encores. There were almost as many songs in encores (twelve) than in the show proper (fourteen). It was the most encores I’d ever seen and might ever see and despite it all, I was restless. I was not yet twenty-one and have mellowed only slightly since, but with each song, with each encore, I grew more resigned to the fact that I would hear neither of my two favorite songs of his, “Oliver’s Army,” and “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding,” the latter of which holds the unique distinction of being lovingly filleted by me and my father at the wedding of my sister (at least I think so, my eyes were closed for almost the whole song).
So, the show ended and I hadn’t heard either song. That small fact put a myopic damper on the evening that years later is memorable for reasons good and pure. I was not disappointed in hearing two of the other biggest hits, “Radio Radio” and “Pump It Up.” Another likable and notable current song was “Tear Off Your Own Head (It’s A Doll Revolution).” Featured prominently throughout the show were, as my guest and I called them, the “Well-Arranged Horn Section” who backed some of the songs both live and on the record of the time. “15 Petals” and “Spooky Girlfriend” (backed not by all the horns, but still) were highlights of those. The best of that bunch might have been the live rendition of “Episode of Blonde,” a song with terrific, consonant, poetic lyrics, that also pleasingly oscillates between the minor and major. The last song of the night was a tremendous version of “I Want You,” a piercing track that also happens to incorporate some of the love and need of Dylan’s song of the same name, and much of the madness and passion of the Beatles’ song of the same name.
So it was, for many reasons, a fine and memorable show. Be sure to catch Elvis Costello at the Beacon Theatre eight years ago. You will have been in for a great time.