By now 'ol Dec MacManus probably can't jar the listenership quite as easily any longer by the curves he may feel compelled to toss at them. No one expects a collection such as The Juliet Letters to be sandwiched betwixt two straight ahead rock (sic) discs, but its arrival quickly becomes a matter of acceptance to the faithful. So this collection of covers, gleaned from his years of scouring the discount bins and his own record closet, is as logical a progression as anything he's ever delivered. You can think of it as a somewhat off kilter compilation tape of songs that manage to push Elvis' odd buttons, all bundled up and delivered to whoever's out there and interested.
Already long known on bootleg the circuit as the "Barbados Sessions", Kojak Variety starts with a misfired vocal that initially maintains that outtake feel. This was Costello's two week whirlwind shot of proving he could put together an album's worth of decent material in no time with very limited funding. On hand once again were a couple of loyalists (part-time attraction Pete Thomas and avant-guitarist Marc Ribot) as well as a few hired heavies (skins- God Jim Keltner, bassman Jerry Scheff, keyboard tickler Larry Knechtel, and long time studio gun James Burton).
Once outlined the challenge appears fairly minor - Elvis enlists a load of talent, sets off for the Caribbean to run through a string of covers, comes up with enough new product to keep the homeys at Warners happy. However, somehow things got gummed up back at the office and the tapes wind up being fed to the truly hardcore through a series of discrete back room swaps before the label manages a legitimate release. Who blinked and why currently remains undocumented.
Granted, the art of the cover is a tricky one as we all know, but without digging up the originals for your standard freshman contrast and comparison, it seems Elvis has called this set with a fair amount of acumen. From the straight 4/4 howl of Little Richard's "Bama Lama Bama Loo" to his rough and tumble vocal of Screamin' Jay Hawkins "Strange," Elvis seems right on his mark. Further in the sweet and beautifully somber R&B-ness of "Must You Throw Dirt In My Face" sounds like it might have accidentally lifted from the running order of the King of America LP. From there Costello takes a fair stab at Dylan ("I Threw It All Away"), obscure Holland/Dozier/Holland ("Remove This Doubt"), and screechy guitar laced go at Ray Davies "Days" that seals the whole package as an appropriate farewell number. But it's the sheer ease and understated instrumental rendering (light brushed snare, and backdrop organ...) of something like Willie Dixon's "Hidden Charms" that might lead you away from the original.
But on the flipside, that's what this whole exercise may be about. Elvis sketches out his source material in an uncharacteristically wordy fashion on the "inner sleeve" to purposefully illustrate and celebrate the great song writing that prompted his recorded admiration. It's heartfelt to be sure and all doubters can refer to the Costello's dating of the liner notes if they're not sure after a few listens. With love from Elvis to you, February 14th 1995.
