Elvis Costello's "New Amsterdam"
What I like about Elvis' music is that the tune is immediately accessible, but the lyrics hold dense secrets which take numerous listens, and occasionally a lyric sheet, to decipher. This track is no exception, starting with this mysterious little couplet: "you're sending me tulips mistaken for lilies/You give me your lip after punching me silly." I can't count myself enough of a horticulturalist to know the intended meanings behind the two flowers, but the second line probably dictates the meaning of the first. No matter what, the twisting wordplay ties itself inexorably on to the music. It is this knack which Costello shows with tricky couplets that makes the track shine; my favorite arrives right before the bridge, where Elvis states to a prospective girlfriend that she's "twice shy and dog-tied because you've been bitten/Everything you say now sounds like it's been ghost-written." It is at this point that the theme of jilted lovers comes into the clear, giving new life to the tired lyrical trope of the broken heart. We've all heard lover's laments, but Elvis is more concerned with what happens when the lover stops lamenting and (unsuccessfully) tries to move on.
The next twist is unexpected, but a neat turn on the theme. The middle eight separates us from the give-and-take between Elvis and his unnamed female cohort and turns inward, focusing on the singer's own existential problem: "back in London they'd take you to heart after a little while/Though I look right at home I still feel like an exile." For anyone who's ever spent time trying to foster a professional career in a strange and unfamiliar city, his words ring truer than one would often expect. The attempt to make interpersonal connections in a totally unfamiliar setting is one I've been struggling with for the past four years, and I still often find myself at a loss. I've said it many times before, but it's just a totally different language out here.
In just a shade over two minutes, Costello manages to deftly comment on both relationships and separation anxiety, while still balancing a tune which is catchy to the point of absurdity. Also, he gets major points for creating a successful rock tune in a waltz tempo. All that's left for you to do is listen to it.
The next twist is unexpected, but a neat turn on the theme. The middle eight separates us from the give-and-take between Elvis and his unnamed female cohort and turns inward, focusing on the singer's own existential problem: "back in London they'd take you to heart after a little while/Though I look right at home I still feel like an exile." For anyone who's ever spent time trying to foster a professional career in a strange and unfamiliar city, his words ring truer than one would often expect. The attempt to make interpersonal connections in a totally unfamiliar setting is one I've been struggling with for the past four years, and I still often find myself at a loss. I've said it many times before, but it's just a totally different language out here.
In just a shade over two minutes, Costello manages to deftly comment on both relationships and separation anxiety, while still balancing a tune which is catchy to the point of absurdity. Also, he gets major points for creating a successful rock tune in a waltz tempo. All that's left for you to do is listen to it.
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