Concert Reviews

Costello and keyboardist Steve Nieve commanded the stage with a trenchant selection and thrilling new arrangements.

Elvis Costello and Steve Nieve at The Cabot in Beverly, March 1, 2025.

“I got this guitar from Timothée Chalamet,” Elvis Costello said early on during his set with his longtime keyboardist Steve Nieve Saturday night, one of several probably specious tales the new wave icon wove during his mesmerizing stop at The Cabot in Beverly. 

“I think he’d do a really good job in my life story,” Costello mused, referring to Chalamet’s role as Bob Dylan in the Oscar-nominated “A Complete Unknown.” “He just needs a couple of years and a couple of cases of gin.”

He may or may not have been kidding about the gin, but there’s no denying that at age 70, Costello’s voice — always a gnarled instrument — sounds more gin-soaked and smoke-stained than ever. But I’m happy to report that after warming up his mellow croak through a few rough-and-tumble opening numbers, he more than wrestled it into doing his bidding — and the Beverly crowd couldn’t have been happier. (“You still sound great!,” yelled one crowd member spontaneously, and Costello seemed genuinely touched.)

It was clear from the get-go that this show, featuring just Costello and Nieve with the occasional pre-recorded beat, would be a different animal from Costello’s full-band appearance at the venue in 2023. Seated behind an old-fashioned radio mic, looking natty in royal blue suit and porkpie hat, he began the show quietly, with the story of “a lonely man at a lonely bar.”

That song — “Deportee,” a slow, smoky demo that would become the much-more-raucous “The Deportees Club” on “Goodbye Cruel World” — gave the impression that Costello, like many of us, has been paying attention to recent events in the United States. Joined midway through the song by Nieve, prowling the stage with his accordion, Costello’s lyrics declare that “in America, the law is a piece of ass.” And we were off to the races.

The eclectic 23-song setlist (there were more than a few tracks that even diehard fans probably thought they’d never hear live) returned again and again to visions of a lonely, corrupt America, from “American Without Tears” to “American Gangster Time” (a standout from 2008’s under-appreciated “Momofuku”), and of course “Brilliant Mistake,” with its iconic opening line, “He thought he was the king of America, where they pour Coca-Cola just like vintage wine.” 

“The hubris of the male mind” was a theme of the evening, Costello declared at one point, and if that doesn’t describe the current state of American politics, I’m not sure what does. Even “When I Was Cruel No. 2” — an especially sinister version, with even Nieve’s wry nod to Abba’s “Dancing Queen” on the keys sounding foreboding — felt resonant of current events. 

Politics aside, for the most part Costello’s quiet takes on these songs weren’t the ones you were used to from his albums — like with Dylan, changes in arrangement and instrumentation made some of them tough to recognize at first, but they elicited gasps of pleasure from the crowd when their identities became clear.

And this format greatly served Costello’s notoriously byzantine lyrics, which sometimes get lost among the high-octane full-band versions. Many of them seem even more astringent stripped down: “He used to glance at the covers of some paperbacks, now he’s read every one,” a tossed-off line from “No Dancing,” packs a wallop in the current version, a stinging indictment of a relationship’s final days.

Costello’s phrasing was impeccable throughout, with certain lines lobbed off wryly, others accentuated by dramatic pauses, and the occasional phrase or even single word croaked out at top volume at just the right moment. The ending to “I Don’t Want To Go To Chelsea” — a spectacular version accentuated by Nieve’s rolling piano licks that felt beamed in from a smoky vaudeville house — blew the Cabot’s fine old roof off.

Costello has never been the most natural performer, although you can’t really fault him for occasionally gluing his eyes to the teleprompter — these lyrics are tough. And while he’ll never be mistaken for Clapton, you can’t say his guitar playing is not expressive. Some of his acoustic work, like on a thrilling, almost flamenco-noir version of “Clubland,” was downright enthralling.

It was when he was unencumbered by that instrument, though, standing with the mic backed only by Nieve’s piano, that Costello really shined. On “I Still Have That Other Girl in My Head,” from “Painted From Memory,” his 1998 collaboration with Burt Bacharach, Elvis sounded like he might have been possessed by Bacharach’s ghost as he delivered what may have been his strongest vocals of the night. And “Hetty O’Hara Confidential,” an impeachment of petty gossip-mongering delivered in a menacing spoken-sung rap, continued to cement itself as one of his most effective late-career compositions.

Granted, as has become common for Costello in recent memory, his vocals sometimes seemed unmanacled from the melody, and that can be as off-putting as it sounds until you get used to it. But overall his approach worked, maybe most notably on a slow, acoustic version of 1989’s “Veronica,” one of Costello’s biggest pop hits and definitely the liveliest song ever about Alzheimer’s disease. Saturday night’s contemplative take spotlighted the “sadder song waiting to get out,” as Costello said, and was the perfect showcase for the sour beauty of Elvis’s voice.

After the setlist’s previous twists and turns, Elvis seemed to revel in the opportunity to finally deliver some of his better-known songs at the end of the show, like a sad mash-up of “Alison” and “Everyday I Write the Book” with Costello himself on keyboards, and a spunky “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding?,” with Nieve taking a verse. (The guy can sing, who knew?)

It was around that time that Costello admitted to having fallen under the spell of the venerable Cabot’s warm surroundings (a seemingly common occurrence among the theater’s ever-impressive lineup). “I just want to come and play here every week,” he told the crowd. Elvis, based on the audience’s reaction Saturday, I think it’s safe to say that we’d love to have you.

Setlist for Elvis Costello and Steve Nieve at The Cabot, March 1, 2025:

• Deportee
• American Without Tears
• When I Was Cruel No. 2
• American Gangster Time
• Black Sails In The Sunset
• No Dancing
• Poor Fractured Atlas
• Harpies Bizarre
• I Don’t Want To Go To Chelsea
• No Flag
• Brilliant Mistake
• Veronica
• Mercury Wings 
• What Is It That I Need That I Don’t Already Have?
• Clubland
• Long Honeymoon
• I Do (Zula’s Song)
• I Still Have That Other Girl in My Head
• Isabel in Tears
• Hetty O’Hara Confidential
• Alison/Everyday I Write the Book
• Take Out Some Insurance/Mystery Dance
• (What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding?

Peter Chianca

General Assignment Editor

Peter Chianca, Boston.com’s general assignment editor since 2019, is a longtime news editor, columnist, and music writer in the Greater Boston area.

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