REVIEW: Elvis Costello with Burt Bacharach, Painted From
Memory
- Joe Silva
If it seems unlikely that the acerbic suffer-no-fools face of the New Wave and the Top 40 couturier of cocktail pop should wind up penning tunes in each other's pocket, then perhaps we weren't listening close enough. Costello has spent most of the decade stretching out compositionally and it's not too difficult to imaginatively cast Bacharach as the author of a sweet ditties like "Alison" once you subtract a percentage of the ire. But the pairing makes good sense on other levels as well. As Costello's core audience marches past the marker of their fourth decade, they probably need more serene, lush records like this for those quiet evenings of grilling on the back deck. And if this record takes off with the new generation of hipsters (who may be looking for something to wind down with after an evening at the local faux-swing palace), Bacharach's back catalog might get a healthy boost.
The songs, however, thankfully veer from excess when it comes to sonically recreating the Bacharach's bygone era. There are signature moments (the soft horns that open "Toledo" for example), but mostly what these tracks bear are striking performances by Costello's pipes and swell orchestration. Lyrically Elvis doesn't seem to be operating on all cylinders despite the heartfelt delivery, but what's here suits the musical backdrops ideally. But then again Bacharach's contribution isn't staggering either. By the time you're headed for the LP's home-stretch, the small and brilliant flourishes (which you'll find in "The Sweetest Punch," "In The Darkest Place," and "What's Her Name Today?") don't atone for the bulk of this material sagging somewhat. Even the song that prompted this album's raison d'etre and closes the record, "God Give Me Strength," is unfortunately not the killer tune that some have made it out to be.
So if you're currently hot about music with suave delivery and complex arrangements, this is fine stuff. But while Elvis might be seeking distraction from the burden of his stalled brilliance and Bacharach looking for some sustenance for his long flagging career, this tiny mutual appreciation society that they've fashioned could have been better served if they hadn't painted from Burt's past and worked from more extensive sketches of what they both conceive the future of pop might be.
