Elvis Costello 21: When I Was Cruel

Outside of a few songs written for soundtracks, Elvis’s biggest project at the close of the century was producing an album for opera singer Anna Sofie von Otter, which nobody but Costello fans bought. There were a few new Costello compositions on there, but they were rendered by a renowned soprano instead of the snarl we’d grown to love.

Finally, after the better part of four years, news of a new album emerged, with the promise of something loud and a tour with two-thirds of the Attractions, now dubbed the Imposters. Yet somehow something was missing. Or was there simply not enough variety? Split alternately between rockers and experiments, When I Was Cruel features distracting drum machines, dissonant free jazz, a lot of ranting, and not enough little melody.

There are highlights to be found, beginning with the rocking autobiography “45”, which goes through his life in nine-year signposts tied to musical memories. But “Spooky Girlfriend” is increasingly familiar fodder, a monologue by a sleazy manager with a casting couch set to a drum program that would have been better left to Gwen Stefani (with whom he’d collaborated a few years earlier for a song on the Rugrats Movie soundtrack). Guitars come band for “Tear Off Your Own Head (It’s A Doll Revolution)”, apparently written for a proposed TV show about a female pop group that solves crimes. The title track (subtitled “No. 2”) is a draggy litany about encounters with the press that sports an incessant one-word sample from an Italian singer. If it was performed twice as fast it might be more effective, and certainly not seven minutes long. While it’s also based around a machine, “Soul For Hire” does have a compelling melody for the most part, but rushed verses. “15 Petals” is downright jarring, especially when the horns of various Jazz Passengers and Mingus Big Band members are let loose, making “Tart” something of a reprieve, even in its unsettledness.

There are two similar yet different stabs at a song called “Dust”; the first is an Imposters performance with programmed snare all over the place, while the second is slower and a little quieter but punctuated by horns. In between, “Dissolve” is a decent thrash rendered obnoxious by too-loud guitars and harmonicas, but the biting “Alibi” recalls Elvis at his bitter best, also running long but a more effective diatribe along the lines of “I Want You”. “Daddy Can I Turn This?” is an insistent rocker turned more disturbing when you know the tagline was inspired by a plane crash involving a pilot’s children in the doomed cockpit. The snappy “My Little Blue Window” provides respite with a little tenderness, and another terrific chorus. But the pendulum swings back for “Episode Of Blonde”, another impenetrable litany with cha-cha horns that mostly annoys except, again, for the very melodic chorus. It even fades mid-rant, so his message—whatever it is—is buried. That leaves the surreal “Radio Silence”, which could be a sign-off, a comment on conservative talk radio hosts, or a hostage situation.

It wasn’t enough for Elvis to be loud; he had to be good, too. A fascination with new sounds got in the way of the songs, so those classic choruses—and there are several—are lost with all the harangues.

The album got varying reviews, from praises to pans, and the bonus of the Cruel Smile curio by year’s end didn’t help. A collection of contemporary B-sides—mostly clattery remixes not about to liven up any dance floor—and so-so live tracks save a lovely “Almost Blue”, at least it included the original, superior When I Was Cruel title track (a.k.a. “No. 1”) that had been scratched in favor of the plodding rewrite, along with “Oh Well” (written with Q-Tip of A Tribe Called Quest for the Prison Song film), which had already been issued on the main album in some countries. Two renditions of Charlie Chaplin’s “Smile”, one jazzy and the other more a ballad, bookend the set, except for a live “Soul For Hire” hidden at the end. (In most territories it was an enhanced CD that included a little-seen music video for “45”, which was cute.)

Rhino had started their re-release program the year before, with similar bonus discs added to the albums proper, so there was plenty of other Elvis in 2002 to enjoy if this didn’t float your boat. But at least he was working again.

Elvis Costello When I Was Cruel (2002)—2½
Elvis Costello & The Imposters Cruel Smile (2002)—2