Elvis Costello's career has taken so many left turns since his new-wave beginnings that it's nearly more surprising to hear him record a rock record these days than one of his many excursions in other genres. But Momofuku returns him to his band the Imposters-- their first in a while, and likely the sort of record most of his fans have been waiting for. Fortunately, it's the best of all that would imply: a fiercely melodic record that sinks or swims on the dynamics of his band, much in the vein of his relative comeback album When I Was Cruel and at times even Blood and Chocolate. The songs are raw and unfussy, and they show off what must come naturally to Costello: tracks stitched together from several disparate and equally unforgettable hooks, and lyrics filled with deft wordplay and plenty of seething and unsatisfied characters.
Most of all the record's songs are wrested from guitar and organ, whether it's the irrepressible pop of "American Gangster Time", the hushed, percussive groove of "Drum and Bone", or the distorted stomp of "Stella Hurt". Extra flourishes are kept to a minimum, with the exception of copious amounts of backing vocals. Costello fears no overdub on "American Gangster Time" or "Pardon Me Madam, My Name is Eve", while he gets help from a vocal "supergroup" bolstered by Jenny Lewis and several others on many of the record's tracks, be their contributions manically layered on "Drum and Bone" or just subtle coloring from Lewis on "Song With Rose".
From the album's opener, Costello is already aiming at critics in "No Hiding Place" who have grown more anonymous as his career has gone on (while taking note of "The very near future/ When everything will be free"), has no kind words for corruption across the pond in "American Gangster Time" ("It's a drag saluting that starry rag"), and finds even finds strife in, depending on your beliefs, the world's first coupling ("Pardon Me Madam, My Name Is Eve"). Yet while Costello is known for his pith, there's a certain amount of gentleness and grown-ass-man maturity present elsewhere: The honking jazz guitar of "Harry Worth" almost mocks Costello's previous ballroom pretensions, while the lyrics are like an answer to embittered earlier songs like "Almost Blue" or "The Long Honeymoon" as the narrator seeks to bring together dueling newlyweds, assuring them, "it's not very far between tears and mirth." Later, the placid ballad "My Three Sons" is a hopeful ode to estranged parents and finds glimmers of acceptance in growing old.
Even a meat-and-potatoes rock record from Costello would be nothing to complain about, but Momofuku finds small, but significant ways to diversify. Aside from the welcome downshift of "Harry Worth", there's a distinctive country twang (no stranger to his catalog) behind the prideful grand piano banging in "Song for Rose", while "Mr. Feathers" walks the middle ground between woozy Beatlesque melodies and the trashcan symphonies of Tom Waits. There's some percussive feats of wonder as well, from the chaotic clatter that closes out "Stella Hurt" to some of the man/machine editing that marked the material from When I Was Cruel on "Turpentine", one of two songs where the Imposters swelled to nine musicians, including Pete Thomas' daughter Tennessee from the Like on additional drums.
It's a remarkably consistent album, but what unifies these songs is how they were recorded, and how Costello and company play to their particular strengths. Even with all these extra musicians-- all valuable players who acquit themselves beautifully, of course-- it goes to show that Costello's songwriting voice is indelible, no matter who is or how many people are playing. While his omnivorous ears and musical appetite should be lauded, perhaps this is why records like these feel like more natural contexts for him. It lacks any standout single to rally around or champion, but maybe it's better that Momofuku's no-nonsense mood is unbroken. It's the longtime fans who'll be happiest with Momofuku, as the traditional four-piece "American Gangster Time" and closing track "Go Away", with its harsh vocal echo and buzzing organ, might be as close to vintage Costello as we may ever hear again.
