A couple of weeks back, I described Imperial Bedroom as my first Elvis Costello album. Sitting here today, I’m wondering whether or not that’s true. It may well have been King of America.
I definitely remember receiving King of America (along with Michael Penn’s March) as a birthday gift from my sister and brother-in-law. And thinking back, that must have been my introduction to Costello.
Either way, it supports the theory that we maintain an allegiance to the work that serves as an entry point to a beloved new artist. It’s probably no coincidence that those two albums remain my favorite Costello releases to this date.
Not that Goodbye Cruel World would be my favorite had I been unlucky enough to jump on the train at that point — certainly this must be a marriage of timing and excellence — but first loves are always special.
Another of my favorite King of America tracks is the only song on the album recorded with The Attractions. ‘Suit of Lights’ has a shuffling singalong vibe I adore, as well as a thoroughly compelling lyric. I love the one-liner in the bridge, “It’s a dog’s life, in a rope leash or a diamond collar,” as well as the scathing indictment of a culture-less mob at the end of the song: “Outside they’re painting tar on somebody… it’s the closest to a work of art that they will ever be.” Costello sings that line with such poignant resignation.
In the same liner notes I reference yesterday, Costello goes into some detail about the origin of this song:
It was at this moment that we cut “Suit Of Lights”, a dense lyric written from the jaundiced performer’s perspective about mob instinct and how one man’s amusement is another man’s job of work. The song was written after watching my father, Ross, sing of experience and tenderness to an uncomprehending rabble of karaoke-trained dullards.
Even his liner notes read like poetry.
You request some song you hate you sentimental fool
And it’s the force of habit
If it moves then you fuck it
If it doesn’t move you stab it
And I thought I heard The Working Man’s Blues
He went out to work that night and wasted his breath
Outside there was a public execution
Inside he died a thousand deaths
And they pulled him out of the cold cold ground
And they pulled him out of the cold cold ground
And they pulled him out of the cold cold ground
And they put him in a suit of lights
In the perforated first editions
Where they advocate the hangman’s noose
Then tell the sorry tale of the spent Princess
Her uncouth escort looking down her dress
Anyway they say that she wears the trousers
And learnt everything that she does
And doesn’t know if she should tell him yes
Or let him go
And they pulled him out of the cold cold ground
And they pulled him out of the cold cold ground
And they pulled him out of the cold cold ground
And they put him in a suit of lights
Well it’s a dog’s life in a rope leash or a diamond collar
It’s enough to make you think right now
But you don’t bother
For goodness sake as you cry and shake
Let’s keep you face down in the dirt where you belong
And think of all the pleasure that it brings
Though you know that it’s wrong
And there’s still life in your body
But most of it’s leaving
Can’t you give us all a break
Can’t you stop breathing
And I thought I heard The Working Man’s Blues
I went to work that night and wasted my breath
Outside they’re painting tar on somebody
It’s the closest to a work of art that they will ever be
And they pulled him out of the cold cold ground
And they pulled him out of the cold cold ground
And they pulled him out of the cold cold ground
And they put him in a suit of lights
And they put him in a suit of lights
Meet Me In Montauk 
Another great one. It seems wrong to only spend a weekend on this album. So many wonderful songs….
Fascinating. I had no idea that Costello’s father was a singer – or at least enough of a singer to get up in front of an audience and perform. Clearly, this was not an audience of Costello fans. I remember going to see Harry Connick’s father perform in New Orleans and thinking how appreciative and respectful the fans were – not only because of the good will he had earned on his own but because of the good will his son had earned. You’d think some of that might have rubbed off on old Ross had the audience realized – or cared – that he was the father of Elvis Costello!
Anyway, that story gives me an even greater appreciation of a song I already loved, so thank you for that.