If there remains conjecture in relation to the high point of ’70s music, (the vote generally going the way of either 1971 or 1973), then no such dispute exists when it comes to the greatest year for debut albums during the decade – 1977 not only the finest in this context, but through rock history as a whole.
The evidence in making the case is overwhelming. 12 months that began with an old guard of Rod, Elton, Zeppelin and Yes still being feted by critics continuing to indulge them no matter how complacent their work had become, ending with reflection on a clutch of first releases breathing new vitality into a medium which had become overblown, yet stale at the same time.
The scene became transformed as music that was strikingly immediate poured forth from first-timers such as Talking Heads, the Sex Pistols, The Damned, Television, The Jam, not forgetting Ian Dury or The Clash – or overlooking the arrival of Elvis Costello as the most original British lyricist to yet emerge through the 1970s, underlined by his potent debut set ‘MY AIM IS TRUE‘ (July 1977).
Like others who were wrestling the initiative away from grandiose grandstanding back to albums with clear intent and purpose, Costello joined fellow colts in offering fresh perspective to established songwriting themes – although even then his succinct, unsentimental lyricism put him ahead by a short head in a field also including gifted wordsmiths such as Dury, Joe Strummer and Tom Verlaine.
Born Declan Patrick McManus in London (25/8/1954) to a musical family, his father a jazz trumpeter and singer, through childhood to his late teens life switched between the capital and Liverpool (from where both parents hailed) depending on where either parent was living, the marriage having ended in 1964.
In 1974 he moved back to London on a permanent basis, by now proficient on guitar and with a catalogue of self-written songs. Going by the name D.P. Costello, he formed a band named Flip City, writing all their original material as they became established on the pub-rock circuit. Also doing the rounds were acts who would progress to achieve more widespread success (‘Eddie and the Hot Rods’, Dr. Feelgood), while some bands, such as Flip City (Costello) contained members who would find fame Dury (Kilburn and the High Roads), Strummer (The 101ers), in other denominations.
While they failed to attract any record company interest, a collection of demos came to the attention of Dave Robinson, shortly to be a founding member of a label named Stiff, who saw potential in the vocals and writing of the central figure, but not in the group itself.
On leaving Flip City behind toward the end of 1975, he cut some tracks for Robinson who made moves to secure Costello a recording contract, although nothing tangible transpired until 1976 when Robinson and Jake Riviera formed Stiff Records, who agreed to finance further recording sessions at the primitive Pathway Studios in North London.
Encouraged by what they heard (and aware a Costello demo tape was beginning to arouse curiosity, particularly after Radio London DJ Charlie Gillett began playing the two featured tracks ‘Mystery Dance’/’Radio Sweetheart‘, giving the artist the first airplay of his career), Stiff moved quickly to sign Costello – assigning him to work with guitarist Nick Lowe, who had been recruited as a solo act and in-house producer.
Making intermittent visits to Parkway while still holding down an office job to support his wife and young child, with Lowe at the controls along with musical support from members of U.S. soft-rock act Clover (three of whom would enjoy ’80s success in Huey Lewis and the News), ‘My Aim is True‘ was cut through six four-hour sessions for a cost of £1,000 – by which time Robinson and Riviera, who had also become his co-managers, bestowed on Costello the first name ‘Elvis’ to gain him further attention.
Despite the record being ready for pressing in January 1977, it was held back by Stiff in order for them to throw weight behind the debut album of The Damned, a group in the vanguard of emerging U.K. punk bands, such acts suddenly coming to prominence after a notorious BBC television interview with the Sex Pistols in December 1976.
In the interim Stiff issued three Costello singles ‘Less Than Zero‘ (March), ‘Alison‘ (May) and (The Angels Wanna Wear My) ‘Red Shoes‘ (July), all of which failed to chart. His album went it finally appeared sailed on a punk tide breaking with a significant new release virtually every week, The Damned, The Clash and The Jam having already weighed in with their first L.P. offerings.
But while his songs had drive and originality in common with the emergent new wave, Costello drew on broader influences than early Kinks/Who singles, his pointed, on occasion pensive lyrics framed by melodies with rockabilly, pop and soul inflections as well as rock overtones.
Opening track ‘Welcome to the Working Week‘ has immediate resonance and if part of the new ethos was built upon saying your piece in straightforward manner and not losing focus through airy-fairy synthesizer patterns or interminable guitar and drum solos, then Costello cracks it with the very first track – setting out his intentions in 84 seconds of urgent power pop.
Despite its brevity the piece never sounds rushed, the writer buoyant in his vocal whether expressing frustration at the time having come to start work again (‘Welcome to the workin’ week/You gotta do it till you’re through it so you better get to it‘) or expanding out the narrative to express indignance with an acquaintance failing to see the bigger picture:
‘I hear you sayin’, “Hey, the city’s all right/When you only read about it in books/Spend all your money gettin’ so convinced/That you never even bother to look/Sometimes I wonder if we’re livin’ in the same land/Why d’you wanna be my friend when I feel like a juggler running out of hands?’
After lifting the curtain is such assertive fashion, the sense of agitation remains through the ’60s-styled garage rock of ‘Miracle Man.’
Coming to his wits end in trying to earn respect in a one-sided liaison, (‘Why do you have to say that there’s always someone/Who can do it better than I can?’), the best of his efforts (‘I thought by now that it was gonna be easy/But she still seems to want for more‘), still proving inadequate.
Delivering the song in a transatlantic voice, creating in this instance a vocal sound not dissimilar to that of Florida-born Tom Petty, who had emerged the previous year with an instantly likeable debut collection brimming with Stones/Byrds inspiration, tracks such as this gave rise to a notion Costello was, in fact, American. His phrasing through the chorus goes to the crux of the matter, coming across as petty, so to speak, in more ways than one, ‘But don’t you think that I know that walking on the water/Won’t make me a miracle man?’
Framed by a melody evoking Phil Spector productions for acts such as The Ronettes, ‘No Dancing‘ amounts to disconcerting observations on a relationship where the male character again appears on a hiding to nothing. Such is the belittlement in evidence, the atmosphere is sure to be frosty when the couple are at home together:
‘Oh I know that she has made a fool of him/Like girls have done so many nights before/Time and time again/Life is so strange/I don’t know why/But somebody, somebody has to cry/There’s gonna be no dancing when they get home.’
By the end of the piece they are barely talking to one another, (‘She can’t even speak to him/He can’t face her now/He says “Even though I wanna shake your hand/All I ever do is bow‘), his despairing outlook emphasised in the final line (‘Why can’t you give me anythin’ but sympathy?‘), ‘dancing’ here used as an allusion to sex, Costello using similar word play on ’50s-styled rave-up ‘Mystery Dance.’
The other track to clock in at less than two minutes, similarities to ‘Jailhouse Rock‘ are unmissable as inexperience in regard to consummation come to the fore, (‘Well I remember when the lights went out/And and I was tryin’ to make it look like it was never in doubt/She thought that I knew, and I thought that she knew/So both of us were willing, but we didn’t know how to do it‘), the narrator aware of his unfamiliarity with this particular physical act.
With the busy piano work and frenetic electric guitar solo sustaining the nostalgic feel of the rock and roll era, (Costello in his dark framed glasses bearing a resemblance to Buddy Holly), the track while gloriously upbeat cannot mask insecurities on the part of a novice in relation to intercourse (‘I wanna know about the mystery dance/Why don’t you show me/’Cause I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I’m still mystified‘).
In contrast ‘Blame It on Cain‘ is fueled by a mix of rockabilly and blues. Here Costello ruminates, at times in abstract fashion, on the uncertainties of life, which through these three minutes are not inclined to work out for the best, responsibility for a series of mainly financial mishaps (‘Blame it on Cain/Don’t blame it on me’) laying elsewhere.
With the drums (Mickey Shine) and bass (Johnny Ciambotti) pushed up in the mix, no great leap of imagination is required to picture this song going down well from a small stage to the packed audience of a pub rock venue, Costello saving his most telling comments for the final verse:
‘I think I’ve lived a little too long on the outskirts of town/I think I’m going insane from talking to myself for so long/Oh, but I’ve never been accused/When they step on your face, then wear that good-look grin/I gotta break out one weekend before I do somebody in/But every single time I feel a little stronger/They tell me it’s a crime, well, how much longer?’
The most enduring track from the album, in no small way due to a striking cover by velvet voiced songstress Linda Ronstadt the following year, the resonant ‘Alison‘ displays mature lyrical candour for a writer of such relatively tender years.
Containing all the nuance of a Motown torch ballad, Costello makes any number of poignant if pointed statements in describing how his once close relationship with the named figure of the title has been affected by an absence of contact – their recent reunion exposing a number of hard truths:
‘Oh it’s so funny to be seeing you after so long, girl/And with the way you look I understand that you are not impressed/But I heard you let that little friend of mine take off your party dress/I’m not going to get too sentimental like those other sticky valentines/’Cause I don’t know if you’ve been loving somebody/I only know it isn’t mine.’
Amidst wistful regret there is also a sense of lingering resentment from the protagonist offering his perspective, Alison having made life choices he clearly feels have not served her well, ‘Well I see you’ve got a husband now/Did he leave your pretty fingers lying in the wedding cake?’
As the second verse unfolds he recognizes her (and his own where she is concerned) frailty, but is powerless in offering tangible help (‘Sometimes I wish that I could stop you from talking/When I hear the silly things that you say/I think somebody better put out the big light/’Cause I can’t stand to see you this way’). The words while sorrowful avoid any trace of sentimentality – the repeated ‘My aim is true‘ refrain not only giving the album its striking title, but hugely affecting in conveying the helplessness he feels.
The energy level goes back up with side one closer ‘Sneaky Feelings‘, an engaging number where catchy pop sensibilities combine with a wry lyric whose focus is a deteriorating relationship.
To begin with the male in question lacks the necessary conviction to voice his true feelings, sneaky or otherwise, (‘I get you in my dreams/You should hear the things you say/It’s not that it’s so much fun/But it’s safer that way‘), the chorus enforcing a belief some thoughts are best left unspoken, ‘Sneaky feelings/You can’t let those kind of feelings show.‘
Carried along by a tight, breezy arrangement and easy going background vocals, the final verse comes with resigned contemplation of their time together coming to an end, the mood turning from shared agreement to barely disguised sarcasm:
‘Why don’t we call it a day, and we can both confess/You can’t force me to use a little tenderness/White lies, alibis, anything but say that it’s true/Now we could sit like lovers, staring in each other’s eyes/But the magic of the moment might become too much for you.’
With its chiming guitars, side two opener (The Angels Wanna Wear My) ‘Red Shoes‘ has immediate echoes of ‘Mr. Tambourine Man‘ a 1965 Bob Dylan-penned hit for folk-rock pioneers The Byrds – Costello giving the writer of that seminal song a run for his money when it comes to grabbing the listener with a riveting opening couplet, ‘Oh I used to be disgusted/And now I try to be amused‘ a sublime piece of phrasing by any standards.
Aware his affections are no longer reciprocated in a way they once were, (‘I was watching while you’re dancing away/Our love got fractured in the echo and sway‘), this track is compelling proof of how quickly Costello had grasped song structure, the call and response vocals introduced into the second chorus giving things an inventive twist, the writer able to back up such decoration with sharply-honed wordplay:
‘Oh, I said, “I’m so happy I could die”/She said, “Drop dead,” then left with another guy/That’s what you get if you go chasing after vengeance/Ever since you got me punctured, this has been my sentence.’
With the advent of punk, politics had made a return to the songwriting spectrum, lyricists such as Strummer infusing Clash songs he co-wrote with guitarist Mick Jones with pertinent statements on the disadvantaged working-class, inner-city deprivation and cultural divides in a society becoming more multi-cultural. Costello stepped into this arena with ‘Less Than Zero‘, a song he was inspired to write after watching a present day BBC interview with Oswald Mosley, leader of the British Union of Fascists in the years prior to World War Two.
Angered by Mosley showing no repentance for his Nazi-sympathies, Costello, also aghast that the former fascist figurehead had been afforded a television platform, goes in hard, (‘Calling Mister Oswald with the swastika tattoo/There is a vacancy waiting in the English voodoo‘). The pop/reggae fusions and return to the title when each chorus ends could belie the serious subject matter in the hands of a less-skilled purveyor – the artist coming up with some sardonic lines in relation to preventing possible reemergence of a poisonous ideology:
‘Oswald and his sister are doing it again/They’ve got the finest home movies that you have ever seen/They’ve got a thousand variations/Every service with a smile/They’re going to take a little break, and they’ll be back after a while/Well I hear that South America is coming into style.’
Through ‘Pay it Back‘ and ‘I’m Not Angry‘, Costello returns to the realm of fraught romantic entanglements, both of which are heading to a point beyond workable resolution.
The former shuffles along in the engaging manner East London hitmakers Squeeze would shortly lay claim to, the malaise in which the couple are embroiled, best defined by the bittersweet summation, ‘I love you more than everything in the world/I don’t expect that will last/They told me everything was guaranteed/Somebody somewhere must’ve lied to me.’
On the latter, which is framed by rumbustious piano and fiery guitar lines, while proclaiming not to be angry the singer certainly appears slighted if such caustic lines as ‘I could hear you whispering as I crept by your door/So you found some other joker who could please you more‘ are to be taken at face value.
The final song on the original pressing is ‘Waiting for the End of the World‘, a punchy, stream of consciousness travelogue set on a tube train after the working day has ended.
Across the three verses nobody in the carriage, including those who board as the journey progresses, are free from vulnerability, be it ‘The man from the television crawled into the train‘ or the girls who are scared when the inside lights fail in the dark of a tunnel.
During the second and third verses Costello introduces characters, ‘The legendary hitchhiker says that he knows where it’s at‘ and ‘the bride, the groom, the congregation and the priest‘, who could have joined the ride direct from a Dylan fable. If once or twice the imagery does become a shade too vague for its own good, the expressive vocal, forceful drums and incisive guitar lines dispel any fear of the song running out of track – the album finishing as it had begun, exciting, terse and eloquent.
Upon its U.K. release, ‘My Aim is True‘ was greeted with positive notices across the board. Music weekly Sounds deemed Costello ‘a songwriter of rare intensity and talent‘ while in his review for the New Musical Express, Roy Carr, the doyen of British rock critics, called it ‘a 70s interpretation of ’60s rhythm and roll, full of songs that spill over with emotional melodrama – a powerful album.’
For Costello things continued moving apace. No sooner had his debut album appeared than he cut the superb single ‘Watching the Detectives‘, the cool cynicism of the lyric matched by surging rock/reggae motifs as it climbed to number 15 on the U.K. charts, while during the same period Costello assembled an accomplished backing band named the Attractions, who would support him on stage and record through the foreseeable future.
In comparatively short time for a debut L.P. on a minor English label, ‘My Aim is True‘ began generating Stateside interest and on evolving into the biggest-selling import album in U.S. history, Columbia moved to secure formal distribution rights. Backed by a substantial promotion campaign from the label, the record (with ‘Watching the Detectives‘ added to the track listing) climbed to 32 on the Billboard chart – a wave of critical acclaim from the American rock press culminating in Rolling Stone listing it at number two on their list of the best forty albums released that year.
Indeed, time has come to regard ‘My Aim is True‘ as one of the all-time great debut albums and while the first in a sequence of masterful efforts from a supreme songwriting talent, it also remains a remarkable stand alone release by an artist who was still a few weeks shy of his 23rd birthday.
By way of irony ‘My Aim is True‘ attained its highest U.K. chart placing (16) in the same August week of 1977 as the king died.
Elvis was dead – long live Elvis.
ELVIS COSTELLO – MY AIM IS TRUE (Released July 22 1977):
Welcome to the Working Week/Miracle Man/No Dancing/Blame It on Cain/Alison/Sneaky Feelings/(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes/Less Than Zero/Mystery Dance/Pay It Back/I’m Not Angry/Waiting or the End of the World;
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