The first chapter was the release of "King Of America", an album I have written about several times before, and usually consider my favorite in Elvis' vast catalog. It was an album steeped in America and the music of the early country stars. Working with T-Bone Burnett and members of the other Elvis' band, Costello absorbed and regurgitated the music of a different country in a further attempt to prove he was more than a new wave/punk provocateur. His sound had broadened into various forms of pop, including Tin Pan Alley, over his previous few albums, but the album-long detour was his biggest swing at being taken seriously as a songwriter of future standards.
Despite the culture clash, the album worked better than it had any right to. By stripping away The Attractions' energy, Elvis was forced to hone his wordplay into a series of vignettes that were the comedian taking his first dramatic lead. He had cutting barbs about the ABC News and the difference between speaking American and English, as well as a searing and disturbing song based on using "Material Girl" as a pun. He also had songs that spoke to the unique condition of being in a country that believed anyone could make it here, in part because the bar we set is so low. That's where the ABC joke comes into play.
Like anyone who tries to grow and change, there was a portion of the audience who were frustrated by Elvis' ambitions, who wanted him to return to making the kind of music that made him famous. Or infamous, depending on who was doing the talking. Being the 'angry young man' was growing harder as time wore on, which is an ironic statement when I consider I am currently older than Elvis was when making that record, and I would have more anger in me than perhaps ever before. The Attractions were among those who were frustrated, as they barely featured on "King Of America" at all, as they were not the most suitable band for a record of sparse, quiet reflections on the bare-bones of songwriting.
That led Elvis to "Blood & Chocolate", a record that brought him back to his roots, and gave The Attractions something they could sink their teeth into. When listening to the album, it's hard not to get the impression Elvis' heart was not into the project the way it was "King Of America", as the songs not only bring him back to his basics, but the very basics as well. "Uncomplicated" opens the record with barely more than one chord Elvis hits again and again, while the band pounds out the backing track. If that song feels dashed off, it gets joined by the sprawling "Tokyo Storm Warning" and "I Want You", both of which spend more than six minutes pouring through stream-of-consciousness lyrics that never mold into a songwriting form. They are experiments that shouldn't work, both for the repetitiveness of the format, and because Elvis demonstrates he might be the worst lead guitar player ever put to tape, and yet they do. In fact, "I Want You" is one of his best songs, because he accidentally stumbles into the repetition being the perfect metaphor for the ways in which love and hate both seep and seethe, building until we can hold neither in any longer.
Mostly recorded live, the album bristles with the energy of a band that were barely able to be in the same room together. The quick recording fit what sounds like quick songwriting, leading to an album that feels like an intentional revisiting of the days of "This Year's Model". But instead of moving so quickly because the ideas for the next album were already forming, they were doing so to put the obligation to bed. Knowing this should impact how we hear the record, and yet the trick of it all is that the band's discomfort is what makes the album work. "Battered Old Bird" would not be nearly as effective without Elvis' voice falling out of melody and tune, which I doubt he would have done if he was in better spirits. It is the rough edges and sloppy focus that makes "Blood & Chocolate" come alive, and why the two pure pop songs sparkle as they do. "Blue Chair" and "Crimes Of Paris" are among Elvis' best work, and find The Attractions settling into their familiar place for perhaps the last time.
"Blood & Chocolate" is an angry album, in the sound of it for sure, but also because Elvis seems angry to have had to make it. There was disappointment The Attractions were not able to handle the "King Of America" material, which brought the tensions to a head, as it was becoming clear they would not be able to join Elvis on the musical detours he had planned. This record was the epitaph on their time together, a slapdash record that embodied the relationship between people who were never billed as equals. What is so amusing is that Elvis did not realize the combustion present in the band is what made them great, as even this record leaps out of the speakers as a vital testament to their collection power. When Elvis would revisit this sound in later years, with a different collective backing him, it was the same, but completely different.
These days, perhaps the legacy of "Blood & Chocolate" is mostly as a trivia question, as you can note the signature on the cover painting is that of Napoleon Dynamite. That is claimed to be an unknowing coincidence on the part of the filmmakers, but I don't know if I believe that.
"Blood & Chocolate" is certainly the less important of the two albums Elvis made in 1986, but is it 'lesser'? I don't think I can say that, because they exist as a package, fusing the past and present of music and of Elvis himself. One cannot exist without the other, not as a full story. For as much as "My Aim Is True" and "This Year's Model" are rightful classics, 1986 remains the most interesting year of Elvis' career. It has been for forty years now, and likely will be when I revisit these thoughts again in ten more.
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