"Trust" arrives like a flurry of punches, pinning back your ears as it pins you to the ropes; ducking one punch, you walk into another.

Some of the individual blows might lack a decisive impact, but the final combination puts you down for the count. Time was when Elvis would've left you on your knees, bleeding into your tears. "Trust" holds out its hand, hauls you back on your feet. Costello's vision is as fierce as ever, but the malice has gone; he can still rage, but he no longer scolds….

Having his albums around the house and playing them so often is still like having someone's abrasive conscience as a lodger though. No doubt, Elvis will remain too acerbic for comfortable popular consumption….

This could explain the outrageous lack of notice suffered by "Clubland" (presently raging up the chart with an anvil around its neck). Taut contemporary...