Music Review: Elvis Costello and the Imposters - Momofuku

For the writing and creation of his best albums, Elvis Costello is “the lucky goon who composed this tune from birds arranged on the high wire.” Then when it comes to lyric writing he can be “so contrary, like a chainsaw running through a dictionary.”

On the alternately giddy and venomous Momofuku — replete with oodles of noodles of infectiousness and Black and Decker expression — Elvis’s mind is made up and his mouth is undone all over the serendipitous, vociferous place. And right out of the gate, Momofuku presents, with a crescendoing triple play melding of melody and lyrics, a triple-A showcase of angst, anxiety, and alienation. As the propulsive kick-off “No Hiding Place” pounds out its no-refuge message, the Warholian reiteration insists that in the future everyone will be infamous for 15 minutes, and pretty upfront about it: “How proud are you / You’ve got the knack / Of howling in a vacuum / Whatever I said about you / I didn’t say it behind your back.”

The kaleidoscopic standout “American Gangster Time” kicks up montage and meaning a couple notches for some visceral if tired digs at such sacred institutions and easy targets as gutter journalism and God-fearing jingoism:

He sits back and he starts invent
All about some Saigon correspondent
“Until the carbine fell silent and spent
I never knew it could be so eloquent”

Next week there’ll be some fashionable new sin
For every harlot and each Puritan
Pull their wings off and stick them on pin
And just watch the money roll in

It’s a drag
Saluting that starry rag
I’d rather go blind
For speaking my mind
Than use it just like a gag
So wave it in anger
Just let it hang
American Gangster Time

“I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or if I’ll awaken / With a song in my heart that is longing to break,” Costello notes in the discombobulated but accessible “Turpentine,” with its molasses-thick melody set to IV drip harmonies. After all, “It takes time to do the poisoning / So let’s close the door on this and lock it.”

With “Stella Hurt” a few songs later, a slo-mo “Tokyo Storm Warning” of sorts has abated to similarly surreal but more attentive effect, to the extent that the transition to the jaunty “Mr. Feathers” parallels the raucous rollover of the rumbling “Man Out of Time” — in the deeply-textured Imperial Bedroom from 1982 — to the melancholy saloon ballad “Almost Blue.” This time around, however, Elvis seems to be writing a song for an early Harry Nilsson record rather than classic-era Frank Sinatra. Very Pandemonium, and very nice.

Of the slower-paced numbers on Momofuku, the well-considered craftsmanship also shines on the smooth “Flutter and Wow,” and the gorgeous and heartfelt “My Three Sons,” written by Costello as a “proud father.” The mid-tempo “Song with Rose” is one of those reliable tunes and cryptic tales that assures us all that no matter how much he musically changes or experiments or what side projects he goes on or tangents he goes off on, this is the Attraction who somehow every day still writes the book: "In that other still forever / In that time before the past / I told myself we’d be together / Can you promise me that it will be eternally?"

While there are a few cuts on Momofuku that may end up as flyover tracks when the long honeymoon is over — “Drum and Bone” sounds too much like a leftover from 2004’s The Delivery Man, while “Harry Worth” recalls Dan Hicks and His Hot Influences — the coastal breeze from “Go Away” more than makes up for any and all potential lacks thereof as a cinematic hymn to hum rolls to noirish effect, cueing hoods to watch the detectives, and femme fatales to file their nails while the authorities are draggin' the lake:

In my mystery caper
As I lower the lamp
On a fey little gunsel
Who dreamed drilling that that vamp

I'm walking the shade
Of this silent parade
With my pepper and mace
And my heartbroken face

Rainy railway station
Drowns out the tearful parting
The last canister rolling
On our little melodrama

Is this one-horse opera
Or a screwball comedy?
Or just mistaken identity
Well, who do you want to be?

Chorus

It's a switch that you’re flicking
A fuse you're always tripping
A button that you're pressing
A number that you're pushing

You're always delaying
Denying
Or betraying
Why don't you come back, baby?
Why don't you go away?

To make sure insouciance isn’t ensuing, Costello sees to it that every switch, fuse, button, or number in Momofuku isn’t without cause being flicked, tripped, pressed, or pushed. But beyond that? It’s hard to say how future assessments will ultimately place this highly enjoyable album, or if revisionist critiquing and carping will come into much play. Certainly the album is not the unified production that 1986’s raw Blood and Chocolate was, or the departure that characterizes the same year’s rootsy King of America, or 1982's pop wonder Imperial Bedroom.

Article Author: Gordon Hauptfleisch

Gordon Hauptfleisch is a Blogcritics Books Editor, freelance writer, and book reviewer for San Diego Union Tribune Books (R.I.P.). For many years he worked in and managed bookstores and record stores, when not engaged in serious lollygagging. …

Visit Gordon Hauptfleisch's author page — Gordon Hauptfleisch's Blog