Rating: 4 out of 5.
Protest comes in many forms. The subtleties of folk power turned into punk rage, and those latter artists, decades on from their days as vicious trendsetters, must adapt. Elvis Costello and Neil Young made out best of all from this deal, with the pair now, in their own way, tramping down the dirt with obvious aim. The intent of their work is no longer the charming blow of a punch which connects days after being thrown. It is in the obvious ways they work now, just as important a spot, for we are in a cultural decline. If it was bad on this day in 2010, when National Ransom released, just think about how bad it is fifteen years later. We do not have to accept the venom, as Costello notes on the opening, title track. Gutsy, clearly intended songs which rely on the howling, blowing of a wild-eyed wolf. It does not take a detective to work out what this represents, though Dr Watson, I Presume later on the album hammers it home.
Such is the point of this in-your-face political punch. Costello is not afraid of the outcome, nor does he have any reason to be. Tramp the Dirt Down was a masterclass with a message well worth rallying behind. He has now patted the freshly turned dirt down and moves on to similar territory, but new targets. Spike is a definite comparison point, though, beyond feelings of protest and historied rock from pockets of the world, there is enough for National Ransom to survive on its own merit. There’s a swaggering, old-school British style to this album, which pairs nicely with the Americana, roots rock Costello relies on. The King of America meets Spike? Hardly. Costello trades the subtleties of his earliest albums for the scintillating and sincere remarks of his later days. It makes for a vulnerable piece of work. Costello has nowhere to hide.
Bold, stripped-back pieces like You Hung the Moon do as Shipbuilding did. The aim is clear, and true, too. His criticisms of England are wide but accurate. Anyone who finds themselves participating in the Stations of the Cross will hear themselves on the song of the same name. A song like Bullets for the New-Born King is frankly Bruce Springsteen-like in its delivery. Soft acoustic playing, a softer echo on Costello’s charmed and honest writing. He balances the need to punch at the ugly side of his home country with the reasons to be hopeful for its continued survival. It has survived, but at what cost? Fifteen years on from its release and National Ransom sounds dream-like compared to the thugs spraying St. George’s cross on zebra crossings. Those are the real monsters ahead of Halloween. Roots rock, too, is a horror.
That tone appears on I Lost You, a relatively tame piece of work which shines a light on what could have happened for the bulk of National Ransom. Easy-going, predictable instrumentals with a turgid pace. He shakes it off soon after for some excellent work on One Bell Ringing, returning to that sweet lyrical offering and stripped-back instrumental style. It’s a tone which works in places, but not the whole way through National Ransom. Part of its charm is in the focused lashings Costello is willing to give, though it happens infrequently. The latter half becomes a messy spectacle, but the high points like The Spell That You Cast hear Costello tackling the modern rock tone and triumphing in the fight. He digs deep into the Great American Songbook influence and uses it as a major point of reference when discussing the obvious and ongoing troubles around the world. National Ransom is still a strong comment on Costello’s home country, and that is damnable.
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