Various Artists: Almost You: The Songs of Elvis Costello

As an unathletic, bespectacled, bookish type, it was practically fated that I’d become a rabid Elvis Costello fan. Slights against my hero were taken personally. So I took great umbrage a few years ago when a coworker coolly told me that Elvis Costello wasn’t one of the greats because he had never recorded a perfect album. Every Costello record, he told me, has a few bum tracks, or just doesn’t hold together.

I was left livid and sputtering. But as time has passed, I’ve come to see that my coworker may have had a point. Costello has always been a songwriter first and his records often feel more like collections of songs than unified albums. Spike, his best-selling record, is a perfect example. Brimming with great songs, from the jangling Paul McCartney-cowritten “Veronica” to the doleful, Celtic-influenced “Any King’s Shilling”, this is a bizarre set of songs. Taken individually, each of the songs is remarkably strong. When listened to in a single sitting, the album can be jarring to say the least, and may just give the listener musical whiplash.

So a tribute album to Elvis Costello is somewhat of a risky proposition. Tribute albums already make for difficult listening, as the contributors are often determined to put their individual stamp on the material. The Leonard Cohen tribute album I’m Your Fan demonstrates this wonderfully. Even though Cohen’s original material has an almost homogenous consistency, the resulting tribute is nearly schizophrenic, with John Cale’s delicate, moving take on “Hallelujah” following Nick Cave’s insane version of “Tower of Song”. If Costello’s own albums are schizophrenic to begin with, then how fractured would a Costello tribute album be?

It comes as something of a shock to say that Almost You: The Songs of Elvis Costello holds together surprisingly well as a record. This is thanks, in part, to the contributing artists. They’re all American indie rockers, with a strong slant towards Americana, so there are few radical stylistic shifts. The songs chosen also keep things flowing smoothly, as most of the bands have chosen to cover Costello’s earlier, more direct material, rather than his more belaboured constructions with their constantly shifting perspectives and obscure references.

For the casual Costello fan, there are some familiar songs here. Hem offers a slow, chiming reading of “(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes” that replaces the original’s energy with a world-weary grace. A similar sadness infuses Vic Chestnutt, Jack Logan and Mrs. Kneipp’s version of “Alison”. Their warm, acoustic performance goes a long way towards rehabilitating a song that’s suffered at the hands of Linda Ronstadt and Muzak.

Elsewhere, performers offer more faithful renditions of Costello recordings, with varying degrees of success. The Dallas-based Deathray Davies turn in an enjoyable version of “Men Called Uncle”, while Fastball serves up an eerily accurate “Busy Bodies” that almost amounts to an act of musical photocopying. In the album’s only true uptempo number, Grand Champeen turn up the punk on “No Action”, but the Austin band can’t quite capture Costello’s sneering insolence. Singing “Watch Your Step”, Brenda Kahn comes dangerously close to giving us a notion of what Jewel might sound like covering that song.

Other performers bring out fresh nuances and textures in Costello’s lesser-known songs. In Costello’s hands, “Blue Chair” was an overwrought, unwieldy song, but Li’l Cap’n Travis gives it new life as an orchestral country tune. “Just a Memory” existed only as a rough Costello bonus track, but Tywanna Jo Baskette has polished it into a delicate gem of hurt and regret. Okkervil River is the only band whose interpretation is questionable; their “Riot Act” is a noisy, melodramatic nightmare.

The strongest track in the collection practically closes the album. “Sleep of the Just”, already a great song about the wartime trysts between local girls and soldiers away from home, is given greater weight by the Mendoza Line. The track’s churchy organ captures the sadness of the original, while its insistent drum machine rhythms underscore the tawdriness of the overseas soldiers seeking carnal comfort. It’s made all the more haunting by Shannon McArdle’s almost emotionless vocals.

Mendoza Line’s “Sleep of the Just” only practically closes the album because while it’s the final track listed, there’s another one lurking in the wings in another reading of “Sleep of the Just” by Kev Russell’s Junker. Although not great, this is an interesting companion piece to the Mendoza Line’s cover. Eschewing that performance’s delicacy and thoughtfulness, Russell’s unfettered country take on the same song seems to unwittingly convey the soldier’s unthinking abandon.

Still, it’s a bit of a shame that the powers that be at Glurp couldn’t restrain themselves from providing us with this unnecessary “bonus” track. But even in this touch of excess, they’re being true to the spirit of the prolific Costello, whose back catalogue is being reissued for the third time. This time, each reissue comes with a whole second disc of alternate takes and b-sides. Almost You stands as an excellent introduction to Elvis Costello the master songwriter, a useful sampler of some of indie America’s best-kept secrets, and as a solid record from start to finish.