Unfaithful Music & Disappearing Ink PDF
Preview Unfaithful Music & Disappearing Ink
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC 375 Hudson Street New York, New York 10014 Copyright © 2015 by Declan MacManus Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader. This page constitutes an extension of this copyright page. Blue Rider Press is a registered trademark and its colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Costello, Elvis. Unfaithful music & disappearing ink / Elvis Costello. p. cm. ISBN 978-0-69814065-3 1. Costello, Elvis. 2. Rock musicians—Biography. I. Title. ML420.C685A3 2015 2015032865 782.42166092—dc23 [B] Penguin is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the author’s alone. Version_1 For those who came before and those who are still to come Alone with your tweezers and your handkerchief You murder time and truth, love, laughter and belief So don’t try to touch my heart It’s darker than you think And don’t try to read my mind Because it’s full of disappearing ink —“ALL THE RAGE” CONTENTS Title Page Copyright Dedication Epigraph 1. A White Boy in the Hammersmith Palais 2. Then They Expect You to Pick a Career 3. Don’t Start Me Talking 4. Ask Me Why 5. Beyond Belief 6. London’s Brilliant Parade 7. The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face 8. Roll Up for the Ghost Train 9. Almost Liverpool 8 10. Welcome to the Working Week 11. No Trams to Lime Street 12. I Hear the Train a-Comin’ 13. Unfaithful Music 14. Scene at 6.30 15. Unfaithful Servant 16. There’s a Girl in a Window 17. It Mek 18. America Without Tears 19. Accidents May Happen 20. I Love the Sound of Breaking Glass 21. What Do I Have to Do to Make You Love Me? 22. Talking in the Dark 23. Is He Really Going Out with Her? 24. Diving for Dear Life 25. It’s a Wonderful Life 26. The Color of the Blues 27. The Identity Parade 28. The River in Reverse 29. That’s When a Thrill Becomes a Hurt 30. I Want to Vanish 31. Put Away Forbidden Playthings 32. They Never Got Me for the Thing I Really Did 33. A Voice in the Dark 34. Country Darkness / Narrow Daylight 35. I’m in the Mood Again 36. Down Among the Wines and Spirits Postscript: The Black Tongue of the North End Acknowledgments Photography Credits ONE A White Boy in the Hammersmith Palais I think it was my love of wrestling that first took me to the dance hall. There was barely a week of my childhood in which I did not have the following dialogue with a stranger: “Any relation?” “Beg your pardon?” “You know? Any relation to the wrestler?” My mother might wearily manage an indulgent laugh, as if to say, You know, I’ve never heard that before in my life. I just felt awkward. Though, I suspected that I might indeed be a distant relation of Mick McManus, a professional wrestler who was a fixture on the Saturday-afternoon televised bouts. The contests in the early 1960s had none of the pyrotechnics of the modern spectacle, just well-oiled showmen like Jackie Pallo or Johnny Kwango grappling and hurling sweaty lunks around, and sometimes out of, a small roped ring. Mick McManus spelled his name like my Papa had, before my Dad added an a to make it “MacManus,” because it looked posher and better in print. Anyone could see that I shared the same stocky physique with “The Man You Love to Hate” and had similar plastered-down, black hair. Later, it was revealed that, like me, Mick could only be forced into submission by tickling. Late in his career, Mick suffered a rare defeat when his opponent used this dastardly tactic, and the champ renounced the match in disgust. Back around 1961, I would practice my flying scissors kick in front of the television and then crumple as if felled by a forearm smash. Eventually all my jumping off the furniture became too much for the neighbors and my mother wanted to tidy the house, so she persuaded my Dad to take me with him to work on Saturday afternoons at the Hammersmith Palais.
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