The Week In Reviews:
Concerts by Cornershop, Costello, Tull(!) and Garbage

By DUNCAN STRAUSS

By an unlikely confluence of timing, ritual, coincidence and a reciprocated invitation, I recently attended four concerts in six nights, catching shows by Cornershop, Elvis Costello, Jethro Tull and Garbage. This struck me as meriting some kind of “out on the concert trail” piece, which I pitched to the editors here

They passed. “Too all over the place,” they said.

But I re-approached them, saying while this might lack a full-fledged through- line, there really were bits of connective tissues--two of these acts in question have released two of the best albums of the year, two confounded pre-concert expectations in opposite ways, all four played theater venues, three of these acts hail from the U.K.(and the fourth is fronted by a Scot), one band has existed longer than some of the musicians in the other bands have been alive, et cetera.

This time the editors responded “it still sounds like a pretty contrived mish- mash, but since we don’t really exist, why don’t you go ahead?”

Now we’re talking.

Monday: Cornershop

Even though I’d never seen the London-based band live, I was particularly looking forward to this show, on the strength of their 1997 album ”When I Was Born For The 7th Time” and especially their brand-new follow-up, “Handcream For A Generation,” a dizzying, dazzling, insanely-inventive record that sprints across--or deftly blends--several musical styles and genres.

From the wonderfully-colorful welcome by soul man Otis Clay in the disc- opening “Heavy Soup” to the dancehall bounce of “Motion The 11” to the 14- minute sitar/guitar soaring excursion “Spectral Morning,” the new album is breathtakingly innovative and addicting. There’s plenty of wry humor--look no further than the title of the rocking, catchy “Lessons Learned From Rocky I To Rocky III”-- and bursting with infectious joy.

So it was all the more startling that singer-songrwiter-guitarist and Cornershop keeper Tjinder Singh was utterly joyless and disconnected as he led the band through a 80-minute set at L.A.’s El Rey Theatre. This failing didn’t mean the show was a failure. Not at all. The concert was, in fact, often-exhilarating, as
Singh and his five cohorts (including sitarist Sheema Mukerhjee and longtime guitarist Ben Ayres) cooked up a hearty gumbo of Indian pop, Stax-like soul, edgy electronica, guitar-heavy rock and feisty funk, among other ingredients.

Hard to imagine, then, that anything notable could be missing, but there were so many killer “Handcream” tracks absent from the set that it practically seemed like they were touring behind “Born For The 7th Time.” But even more significantly MIA was any Singh charisma--odd for so uniquely-talented a frontman--or even any sense that he was enjoying being on stage.

So while my reaction to the concert brushed up against disappointment, the show was still stellar, excelling just like it fell short-- in unexpected ways, including rendering an unimaginably percolating, propulsive “Spectral Morning.” And you really haven’t heard a cover of “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)” until you’ve heard Cornershop’s version, sitar-laden and sung in Punjabi. I ended up liking the concert quite a bit, but I doubt it would make my year-end Top Ten list, whereas “Handcream For A Generation” looks to be a shoo-in for my album list.

Thursday: Elvis Costello

Another album even more universally a shoo-in for year end Top Ten lists, I’m guessing, is Elvis Costello’s “When I Was Cruel.” It’s his first rock-oriented record in a half dozen years after focusing on a number of varied, mostly-collaborative projects with the likes of Burt Bacharach and opera singer Sophie Van Otter--and arguably his best in 15.

“Cruel” is an eclectic, extraordinary work that positively vibrates with assurance. But, hey, if I’d written 15 songs this good and sung them this well, 25 years hence, my record would come across pretty goddam assured, too. And, if it’d been a long time since the last E.C. rock record, it only figures that it’d been at least that long since the last E.C. rock tour.

So touring behind an album as good as “Cruel “ with a band as good as The Imposters (two thirds of the Attractions, with bassist Davey Faragher replacing Bruce Thomas) appeared to add up to a show that was a pretty thrilling prospect. And the concert I caught, at the gorgeous new Kodak Theater in Hollywood, actually exceeded those expectations.

Perhaps betraying that very confidence in the new record, Elvis and the boys opened with the brand new “45,” immediately reached back to material from 1977’s “My Aim Is True,” then spent the next two hours zig-zagging across his 25- year catalog. Costello was a commanding presence, occasionally offering wry and witty comments. But mainly the evening was a no-frills (no stage set to speak of, not even a follow-spot), no-nonsense blast of smart, sharp, literate, passionate rock ‘n’ roll.

He and the Imposters were clearly operating at the height of their collective power, and just as clearly having a total blast doing so. Variety, versatility and fluid flexibility were certainly the order of the day. Or night. Just the new stuff they played ranged from the dramatic chugging groove of “Alibi” to the full-tilt rock of “Daddy Can I Turn This” to the slow, subtle instant sing-along “Tart” to the stuttering, superbly sideways love song “15 Petals.”

And that barely hints at the ground this quartet traveled: “(I Don’t Want To Go To) Chelsea”...”Uncomplicated”....”I Hope You’re Happy Now”...”I Want You”... “Watching The Detectives”...”No Action”...And so on.

God, it was good.

Friday: Jethro Tull

I know what you’re thinking: WHAT?

Why would anyone bother with a Jethro Tull concert in 2002? Much less, someone who apparently is not only still an active, plugged-in music fan, but one who just sang the praises of Cornershop and Elvis Costello, two rather dissimilar but highly vital acts--when Tull hasn’t been artistically vital in, what, about 30 years?

Yes, yes. Although many would argue that Ian Anderson & Co. remained a vital--maybe even a scintillating--live act for years, if not decades, beyond that point. And if this sounds like the beginning of a guy making a case for an otherwise inexplicable guilty pleasure, you’re reading this loud and clear.

OK, I first started going to Tull concerts in 1975 , and yes, I am dating myself (but that’s a whole other, sordid tale). In those days, the band was not only hugely successful--they played arenas and stadiums, and held the record for the most sold- out shows at L.A.s 17,000-seat Forum--but they did deliver one helluva concert- going experience, visually and musically arresting.

And that’s not just the foggy recollection of an impressionable, highly stoned adolescent--back then, the chief critic of the leading UK music publication, Melody Maker, dubbed Tull “the world’s best live attraction.” Again, I know: Even if all that’s true, how does it explain seeing Tull 27 years later. Well, it’s partly that guilty pleasure I already copped to.

But it’s really about ritual and friendship: I saw that ‘75 show at the Forum with my friend Mitch, and I attended the concert at the Orange County Performing Arts Center the other night with--that’s right--my friend Mitch. And we’ve been to countless Tull shows in between, as much for the ritual as anything else, though I still enjoy Ian Anderson’s antics and much of the music, even though his voice has been shot for years and Jethro Tull has been critically reviled for decades.

One part of my explanation, no doubt, is Anderson’s longstanding self- effacing humor, which routinely surfaces in interviews and his between-song patter, including projecting the words “CONCEPT ALBUM” behind the band and noting that they were once considered a dreaded “progressive rock band” by way of introducing an excerpt of “Thick As A Brick.”

Similarly, the newly released live CD and DVD are entitled “Living With The Past” which, of course, plays off the title of their classic “Living In The Past”--a lovely, lilting version of which opened the concert--but also seems to wink at how old the band, its music, and its audience are. Indeed, that opening number segued directly into “Cross-Eyed Mary,” the first of the night’s four selections from 19 71’s “Aqualung.”

While Anderson’s greatly diminished pipes make hearing certain songs a mixed bag, instrumentally no one’s lost a step. Maybe gained one. Anderson’s flute-playing was first- rate and the rest of the band, including almost-original lead guitarist Martin Barre, demonstrated an inspired instrumental prowess and flair.

Right Mitch?

Saturday: Garbage

This was basically the flipside of the Cornershop scenario, in that I wasn’t all that excited about this show beforehand. I mean, I’ve enjoyed much of the music on their three albums and seeing the band perform on late-night TV, I’ve thought singer Shirley Manson was a peppy, engaging minx. But I didn’t even consider buying tickets, because I simply wasn’t interested in seeing them live. Or so I thought.

Then, a few days before, when I invited my friend Randy to Elvis Costello, he not only accepted, but immediately reciprocated with an invitation to join him at Garbage. I said yes, and boy, am I glad. I was thoroughly blown away by Shirley Manson and her three backing Garbagemen. And that really does characterize this band’s live dynamic.

Whereas, while making records, Manson’s band mates are the hot-shots shaping the sound and calling the shots (seeing as they’re gifted tech-heads and accomplished producers--Steve Marker, Duke Erickson, and especially Butch Vig, best known for producing Nirvana’s “Nevermind”) when it comes to the live presentation of Garbage music, it’s definitely Shirley’s show. As it should be.

Performing the first of two nights at L.A.’s Wiltern Theatre, Garbage hit the ground running--literally, in Manson’s case. One of the first things you noticed is that an atypically-enormous portion of the stage was free of monitors and other equipment, creating an uncluttered and wide-open space for Manson to sprint, bounce, dance, zoom, and otherwise work the stage as one of the most ferociously energetic, zesty, rockin’ frontwomen I’ve seen in many a moon.

Of course, we knew she could sing, but, holy cow, she wields a huge, powerful voice. In fact, everything about live Garbage seemed surprisingly large: The Wiltern is a gorgeous, Art Deco, 2200-seat venue, and--in terms of their power and impact, Garbage is a like a gigantic arena-rock act--almost too big for the Wiltern to contain. And, as at a high-end arena extravaganza, the audience was going bonkers.

And one night away from the end of their U.S. tour, in a year that had seen the band’s third and latest record “beautifulgarbage” surprisingly overlooked by radio programmers and record-buyers, Manson was gracious and philosophical, repeatedly extending the band’s appreciation to its sincere supporters while acknowledging its marketplace struggle.

Mostly, though, they just rocked, a few times taking far-flung requests--to the point where drummer-for-hire extraordinaire Matt Chamberlain, who was sitting in for the ailing Vig, was clearly playing at least one tune for the very first time. But that made perfect sense, really: This is a plucky, innovative live outfit, loaded with rock spirit and spontaneity. It’d be hard to talk trash about this Garbage experience--it was an extremely pleasant surprise, truly inspired and inspiring.

Photos and graphics accompanying this article are copyright their respective bands and labels.