'history repeats the same conceits...'
When I was seventeen I saw Elvis Costello and Cait O'Riordan in W.H.Smith's in Richmond in South West London. It was a great place for people spotting. The best place I ever knew. Apart from Hampstead Hill whuch was even posher. And New York. Which was much larger.
Anyway, there he was. A couple of metres away from me on the shopfloor. Looking pleased as punch. Wearing a hat that screamed, 'Look at me, I'm Elvis Costello..' So I looked at him. Then went home. I doubt very much whether he noticed me. Even though I looked at the time very much like a junior version of himself.
I bought Imperial Bedroom at round about the same time. It had just come out and was being critically garlanded by one and all. I listened to it a lot. Tried to inderstand it. But it was beyond my teenage mind. Just as Hamlet and Waiting For Godot which I was co-currently struggling with as set A level texts were. Tender is the Night and John Keats chimed better wuth my romantic teenage mindset. Where I wanted to go. Towards the light.
I'm more in tune with the darkness of Hamlet and Waiting For Godot now I'd say, as I approach my seventh decade. I also tune in to Imperial Bedroom's preoccupations too. It's full of Costello's consistent concerns. Rage, vitriol, bitterness, Jester 's wit. Life's Mad Parade. I wonder if he still has the hat. It was quite remarkable.
No comments:
Post a Comment