01.20.2019
ARMED FORCES
Rolling Stone: Janet Maslin: March 22nd 1979
Consider “Oliver’s Army,” the pièce de résistance on Elvis Costello’s
Armed Forces, an album that’s a killer in several senses of the word.
The tune sounds bright and bouncy, with a jangly keyboard riff along the
lines of “Here Comes Santa Claus,” and it’s enough to make you want to
rock around the room. But sit down, Fred, and get a load of the lyrics
you’re dancing to:
There was a Checkpoint Charlie
He didn’t crack a smile
But it’s no laughing party
When you’ve been on the murder mile
Only takes one itchy trigger
One more widow, one less white nigger
Oliver’s Army is here to stay
Oliver’s Army are on their way
And I would rather be anywhere else than here today.
In fact, this is an angry song about imperialism and the military,
reportedly written just after Costello visited Northern Ireland. In
spirit and on its very congenial surface, “Oliver’s Army” is a hit
single. You can hear it one way, or the other way, or both. Elvis
Costello doesn’t seem to give a damn what you do, and that’s no small
part of his charm.
Costello writes songs that are elusive at times, bursting with bright
phrases you can’t always catch. (As someone who still thinks the Rolling
Stones are singing “Heartbreaker … with your bowling ball,” I’m all in
favor of half-audible lyrics that encourage a valuable do-it-yourselfism
in the listener.) He sings about violence with a vibrant romanticism,
and about love with murder in his heart. He writes short, blunt
compositions that don’t pretend to be artful, though they are, and don’t
demand to be taken seriously, even though they’re more stunning and
substantial than anything rock has produced in a good long while. He
doubles back on himself at every turn, and you’re forced to take it or
leave it.
There’s only one way to listen to Elvis Costello’s music: his way. The
songs are so brief they barrel right by, leaving an impression of
jubilant and spiteful energies at war with each other. Every now and
then, words like “quisling” or “concertina” leap out of nowhere to add
to the confusion. Images are etched hard and fast, then replaced by new
ones even stronger. There’s an overload of cleverness on the LP — more
smartly turned phrases than twelve songs ordinarily could bear. But the
rapid pacing alleviates any hint of self-congratulation.