CD Reviews

The King proves he's still alive (that's Elvis Costello, not Presley), Def Leppard's own survival remains a tragic farce and the Arctic Monkeys' frontman entertains with a baroque set of ballads. 

Elvis and Priscilla Barbie dolls are displayed for sale at Graceland in Memphis. (AP Photo/Greg...
Elvis and Priscilla Barbie dolls are displayed for sale at Graceland in Memphis. (AP Photo/Greg Campbell)
>Elvis Costello and the Imposters. Momofuku.
Lost Highway.

4 stars (out of 5) 

Those who drummed their fingers and stifled a yawn as Elvis Costello spent 10 years posing as jazz crooner, classical composer and art-rock impresario will welcome Momofuku.

With teeth somewhat blunter than in his Attractions days, the old dog has remembered enough tricks to pull off a more-than-passable impression of his former self.

While avoiding parody of his pigeon-toed stance of the late '70s, Costello delivers vitriol in sufficient measure to energise this collection of new wave rockers.

The Attractions' Steve Nieve is even on hand to provide that unmistakable keyboard sound, while Pete Thomas (drums), Davey Faragher (bass) and Jonathan Rice (guitar) are the most regular members of a fluid Imposters cast.

Recorded and mixed in just a week, Momofuku is easily the most urgent and instantly appealing record Costello's made in years.

From the punchy faux-punk of opener No Hiding Place to the throwaway appeal of sharp-tongued closer Go Away, the album throws out few challenges.

But after so long without so much as a sneer from the onetime master of snot-nosed power-pop, it's fun to once more kick around his catchy choruses and clever one-liners.

A handful of more soulful tracks provide balance.

Flutter And Wow is a classy, piano-driven ballad and My Three Sons is a worthy addition to the canon of songs about parental pride, if a little schmaltzy.

Somewhere in the middle ground, tracks such as Turpentine and Pardon Me, Madam, My Name Is Eve round out an even dozen of tasty Costello allsorts.

- Jeff Harford


 

>Def Leppard. Songs From the Sparkle Lounge.
Bludgeon Riffola Ltd.

In a career spanning nearly 30 years, Sheffield veterans Def Leppard just do not seem to know when to call it quits.

If a horrendous car accident, alcohol-derived death and grunge could not drive the nail home, then Songs From a Sparkle Lounge should do the trick.

After their misguided foray into lightweight pop with 2002's X, Def Leppard return to the same formula that brought them success with the insanely popular Hysteria - albeit for one small detail, Robert John "Mutt" Lange.

Chances are the former Mr Twain was sipping Central Otago Pinot while Leppard were fumbling about in a studio looking for hooks.

The thing is, paint-by-numbers rock tunes performed by a bunch of spandex mercenaries from another era are not likely to harbour many gems.

From the Pour Some Sugar On Me rip-off that is C'mon C'mon to dreary ballad Love, there is not much to crow about.

Lead single Nine Lives sounds exactly like it was written for Ms Twain, and with country crooner Tim McGraw cranking the saleability in the mid-west, Leppard's line dance anthem was just plain embarrassing.

Sitting in the same stratosphere as the likes of Zeppelin, U2 and Pink Floyd, with 10 million units shifted to date, money surely cannot be the motivator.

Sure, Def Leppard are guaranteed to entertain huge audiences when they tour with Whitesnake, but Generation Xers on a nostalgia trip are a done deal anyway.

And to think that guitarist Phil Collen waxed his chest for the album shoot.

Sort of says it all really. - Mark Orton



>The Last Shadow Puppets. The Age of Understatement.
Domino.

Following a meteoric rise to prominence, an artist can be forgiven for wanting either to take a rest or to try something new.

If the latter appeals, the side project is often the ideal option.

Here, Arctic Monkeys front-man Alex Turner joins Miles Kane (the Rascals) to dabble in baroque balladry.

While the Age of Understatement is fussier than his usual band's records, its imbued with the same breakneck feel - it's the strings and horns that rattle, rather than the guitars.

And though he eschews the vernacular of the Arctic Monkeys, he remains preoccupied with lairy boys and girls.

Whether it's the femme fatale figure in Only the Truth or the decadent socialites in Separate and Ever Deadly, the difference is in the clothes they wear. Still, The Chamber is the closest he's ever got to writing a torch song, while My Mistakes Were Made for You possesses a tenderness he'd never previously approached.

Producer Owen Pallette ticks all the right kitschy crescendos, while Turner does his best Scott Walker impersonation.

For a brief moment, they assimilate the form.

Mostly, they stand outside it, not least on I Don't Like You Anymore where Turner spits, rather than croons as the guitars take over.

Likewise, strip away the John Barry/Bond-theme excesses of In My Room and you're left with something surprisingly adolescent.

The Age of the Understatement shows Turner can escape the glare of the zeitgeist if he wishes.

Whether he'll indulge in this style further once he resumes usual Arctic Monkey business is anyone's guess, but if you're willing to make time for what is ultimately a trifle, it's an entertaining 35 minutes.

- Matthew Littlewood

 

 

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