Old pros with a great line in nostalgia

REVIEWS:Elvis Costello

Vicar Street, Dublin

TONY CLAYTON-LEA

It must be thoroughly gratifying for artist to reach a point in their lives and careers when they can do pretty much anything they want. Perceptions and expectations may be lurking around every corner, but the reality of not necessarily being defined by your fan base, or in any way feeling limited by their assumptions, is surely liberating.

Elvis Costello reached that point some years ago, probably somewhere between delivering earthy rock’n’roll, composing torch jazz and scoring an opera, so to see him cut loose with an Americana-Roots combo featuring the likes of the stellar musicians Jerry Douglas and Jim Lauderdale is no surprise.

This being a countrified evening, with few detours, there was little in the way of what you could rigidly call rock-music dynamics or aggressive vitality, but the way Costello expertly went from one tune to the next was, inevitably by this point, impressive and instructive; and the way the show itself was themed was also as smart as a cocktail with a cherry on top: from Mystery Train to Mystery Dance, from Alison to The Wind Cries Mary, from Complicated Shadows to Happy, Costello and band utilised, country style, the intricate art of weaving instruments, melodies, lyrics and subject matter into a whole that, mostly, worked regular tricks and treats.

Occasionally, however, the stylings seemed to fail the songs; tunes such as Good Year for the Roses, Little Palaces and American without Tears (and many more) fitted like a glove, but the likes of Blame It on Cain, Girl’s Talk, (The Angels Want to Wear My) Red Shoes and What’s So Funny about Peace, Love and Understanding sounded as if they were shoehorned into a space that was more suffocating than anything else.

Such reservations are small change, however, to the continually evolving state of mind of someone as ambitious as Elvis Costello. For some years we have stopped believing that he is the best thing since the invention of the wheel – his last truly brilliant album, in our opinion, was 2003’s North – but it would be a foolish person indeed to bet against him delivering a show that didn’t provide equal measures of reinvention, humour, cracking tunes and a staggering range of influences and references. Business as usual, then.

Crosby, Stills Nash

O2, Dublin

JOE BREEN

Those who favour a later retirement age might like to cite these three old comrades as exemplars of the future. David Crosby (68), Stephen Stills (65) and Graham Nash (68) have been trudging around the world as a trio, on and off, for more than 40 years since they made their celebrated debut at Woodstock in 1969. And so it was fitting that they opened their Dublin show on Thursday with a muscular version of Joni Mitchell’s hymn to that event, Woodstock.

Stills’s cracked vocals and lavish and loud guitar were a sign of things to come from him. But it was the trademark harmonies as the band happily went through their back pages during a two-hour plus performance.

The trio worked the hall, infusing real passion into the material and feeding off the warm reaction from the fans, many of the same vintage. Concerts like this are about collective memory; signature songs like Almost Cut My Hair and Guinnevere evoke a time when all was different.

Yes, it is nostalgia, but one senses that all the actors in this drama, onstage and in the audience, draw validity for the past from these musical signposts.

While Nash still sounds like a perky English scout leader, he is the rock around which the other two pivot, crusty oddball Crosby and seasoned guitar hero Stills. On their own you sense they might be a trial, but together they find common cause and pleasure in classic songs such as Marrakesh Express and Love the One You’re With. Their acoustic set after the break was strong, even if the cover versions of songs such as Ruby Tuesday were routine.

Like the troopers they are, Crosby, Stills Nash finished strongly, finally rolling out Our Home and Teach Your Children in the deserved double encore.