When Elvis Was King

He has to stop. He can't keep this up. This has to be it.

My reasons were two-fold. I was convinced that the next song couldn't possibly top what had come before. And I was afraid it would. And if it did, it would mean the impossible had taken place. Bruce Springsteen's would no longer be the best live performance I had ever seen.

Bruce has been my favorite singer/songwriter for the past couple of decades and, the since the first time I saw him live in '95 on the acoustic Ghost of Tom Joad tour (and on every tour since) has been my favorite live performer. No performance was ever going to top seeing a live Bruce show.

So, I didn't go into last night's Elvis Costello performance at Bass Concert Hall with unrealistic expectations. Don't get me wrong, I was excited. I had never seen Costello and, while Bruce tops my short list, Elvis Costello makes the top 5. I had never seen Costello before and I was going with the guy (thanks for the ticket, Mark) who had introduced me to Costello's music. Still, I never considered for a second that it might top a Bruce show. I wouldn't put that kind of pressure on Elvis.

As soon as he and the band hit the stage, we knew we were in for something different. Costello's usual cohorts, the Attractions, were not in attendance. Nor were the newer Imposters. This was the Sugarcanes, a set of 6 stringed instruments (dobro, violin, stand up bass, mandolin, accordion, and guitar). No drums. No keyboards. No rock n' roll?

We needn't have been concerned. Elvis Costello kicked off with Elvis Presley's Mystery Train and immediately set the tone for what was coming. This was going to feel like one of those old Sun Records tours, and Costello was cluing us in. 

What followed was two hours that mixed familiar favorites with more obscure songs, peppered with brilliant covers that seemed written for EC and his Sugarcanes. Whether it was Blame It On Cain, Hidden Shame, or Tonight the Bottle Let Me Down, the man and his band were in their element. 

In the midst of all this, Costello brought out a song "so new that at midnight tonight we have to put it on wax" called (I assume from the chorus) Condemned Man. By the end of it I was wiping away tears, something I have only done once before at a concert. (Mark leaned over and whispered, "You will always remember where you were the first time you heard that song.")

More classics, cult favorites and covers. A most brilliant take on Everyday I Write The Book (never a favorite until last night), a countrified Mystery Dance, and a cover of Buddy Holly's Not Fade Away. The band was having a rip roaring good time and I was spent.

Then the encores started. Another hour's worth of encores. Patty Griffin takes the stage and Elvis does something no one has ever done at a live show; he makes me pay attention.

I am usually pretty into whatever live show I am going to see, but I am rarely so alert. I don't have to be, the songs are familiar and therein lies the fun. But Elvis begins performing songs that I have missed, songs I have ignored, and I feel a small sense of shame. It's reminds me of when a friend makes a mix tape with a song in the middle that was supposed to communicate something meaningful, but became background music instead. They point it out to you weeks later and you realize what you missed. That's how I felt about Red Cotton and Poisoned Rose (the second time I cried that night) and The Scarlet Tide. How had I missed these? And I call myself a fan?

The encores also included killer versions of The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes and What's So Funny About Peace, Love, and Understanding, but that will never be what I remember best. It will be the unexpected moments and the unanticipated songs and the unassuming way that the whole thing came together. There must be a science to it, but it felt like art. It felt like magic. It felt like a man at home with his craft at the top of his game. And, in fact, that's what it was.