It seemed that anytime there was a reissue program underway, Elvis would get prolific and start issuing new albums on an annual basis. So after the argument-starter that was North, he took the Imposters down south for a residency at a few tiny clubs, and began honing elements of a song cycle of sorts that he’d been pondering for a decade or so. The Delivery Man appeared on the heels of advance reviews that made it seem like we’d be getting a cross between the Americana of King Of America and the live clatter of Blood & Chocolate. (Pointedly, the all-country Almost Blue had been reissued earlier that year, adding to the Southern mood.)
The resulting album, while a cohesive whole, is still a hodgepodge. The story (or what there is of it) is only slightly helped along by the upfront contributions of Lucinda Williams and Emmylou Harris; the former is an acquired taste, but Emmylou could sing the phone book and it would sound like heaven. It also includes a few songs that had already been recorded by other people for earlier bespoke projects, but if you didn’t know that it wouldn’t make a difference. Best of all, the Imposters are given full rein to do what they do best. Steve Nieve explores every keyboard he can reach, Pete Thomas pounds the skins as hard as any punk, and in bassist Davey Faragher Elvis finally has a decent harmonizer to help him cover those notes. (John McFee returns to add pedal steel to a few tracks too.)
The proceedings start mid-take with “Button My Lip”, a noisy one-chord groove that’s not as bad as this might describe; Steve even throws in the melody of “America” from West Side Story at one point. The words and vocal delivery make up for the simplicity, but it’s only the first of several wordy rants on the album. The chaos dissipates for “Country Darkness”, a little bit of Memphis soul in 3/4 time (another common thread on this album) before “There’s A Story In Your Voice” gives Lucinda a whole verse to mewl by herself in addition to wrestling with the choruses. “Either Side Of The Same Town” was the first of the songs already released by someone else, but it’s a wonderful torchy pastiche in the spirit of Oldham/Penn songs like “The Dark End Of The Street”. “Bedlam” is another rant, with lyrics inspired by that year’s Presidential race, with a hook of a chorus and another good performance by the Imposters. The title track attempts to delineate the story, but it’s more successful as a mood and a track in itself than part of a larger concept.
Something else that shouldn’t work but does is “Monkey To Man”, a piece of satire inspired by (and which namechecks) 1957’s thinly allegorical “The Monkey” by Dave Bartholomew, best known for his work with Fats Domino. We suppose the song starting up again over the fade is supposed to be commentary on the cyclical nature of society, or maybe it’s just an homage to “Yer Blues”. Emmylou harmonizes on “Nothing Clings Like Ivy”, another part of the story that stands well on its own, and positively shines on “Heart Shaped Bruise”. (One great moment in the latter is toward the end where she and Elvis join on “it will fade” while the song does just that.) In between, “The Name Of This Thing Is Not Love” rehashes the title track’s melody with less effectiveness; the lyrics deserve a better arrangement. While the juxtaposition of tempos in “Needle Time” keep it from being monotonous, the swells of feedback distract from his message, which seem to be a tirade against the music business, Great Britain, or maybe a former manager. Elvis’s last known collaboration with former partner Cait O’Riordan, “The Judgement” had already been recorded by Solomon Burke, for whom it was written, and Davey provides a terrific harmony. “The Scarlet Tide” provides a quiet coda; originally written with T-Bone Burnett for the film Cold Mountain, where it was sung by Alison Krauss, here’s it’s a quiet antiwar lullaby.
It was good to hear Elvis going back to straight rock. Only the whole, fans were very pleased with the album, when in a growing and annoying trend it was reissued a few months later with a new cover, an additional track (the underwhelming “She’s Pulling Out The Pin”) that had been exclusive to the UK version, and an EP of alternate takes plus covers of “The Dark End Of The Street” (which fades, inexplicably) and “The Monkey” and his own “In Another Room”, which includes a snippet of “Tipitina” in a prophecy of a future project. Still, we wished he’d’ve left it alone.
Elvis Costello & The Imposters The Delivery Man (2004)—3½
2005 Deluxe Edition: same as 2004, plus 8 extra tracks
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