When the summer tour of Daryl Hall and Elvis Costello was announced, I first thought Declan MacManus was opting to fill the slot of Hall’s former partner. After all, he’s performed in many guises over the years, from his famous stage name to The Imposter to Napoleon Dynamite (before the movie of the same name). So why not John Oates?
There was some precedent for such a partnership. Hall sang and co-starred in the video for Costello’s “The Only Flame in Town” an alarming 40 years ago. But no, here they were only sharing dates on a summer tour, co-headlining in the sense they both presented their own full sets that otherwise had no other intersection with the other.
It might have seemed an odd pairing; the hit-making popular appeal of Hall & Oates catalog has little to do with Costello’s more esoteric but critically appraised songbook. Yet fans of each artist may have been surprised by how many songs they may knew by heart from the other.
Hall in recent years has built on his musical legacy by building Daryl’s House, a pleasing musical web series turned brick and mortar club in Pawling, N.Y. Inviting other artists to join him in more than 90 episodes, he’s built a solid band that stood out in the tour’s final stop Thursday at Wolf Trap in Vienna, VA.
With his poofy mane now completely white, Hall himself, at 77, may have been exhibiting the effect of two months of touring, but for a guy who built his career on a soulful falsetto, his upper register was shot. Sometimes he’d skip the lyrics with the highest notes, as on “Sara Smile”; other times he’d let the audience take it. Most times, though, he tried to go for it, as if it could still possibly happen, reaching with a kind of growl that seemed painful at times. And mostly, it didn’t work. It was a rough night to be sure.
Still, the competency of his six-piece band, led by ace guitarist Shane Theriot, had the crowd into the familiar strains of things from the opening “Maneater” and “Rich Girl” to “Kiss on My List” and “Private Eyes” delivered with Hall on piano—a musical skill that showed no diminishment. The vocal lapses didn’t have to be so prominent; fans enjoy the songs and like seeing him, so what’s wrong with letting somebody else in the band take those notes? Or what about just doing them in a lower key?
Hall threw in a few things from his solo work here and there, but it was surprising he only pulled out a single song from a new album, D, and only then apologetically, during the encore. Another surprise: How short the set was. Just a dozen songs, fewer than the number of Top 10 hits his old duo scored (16, including nine No. 1s).
And even on the last night, still no duet with the opener.
Costello, for his part, shared similar challenges in his set, mixing crowd-pleasing favorites with newer things and, in his case, more than a few left turns. Costello’s voice might have shown some touring wear and tear at the start as well, but it gained strength as the night continued.
Like a pro, he bookended his set with concert favorites—“Pump It Up” and “Watching the Detectives” to start (so early, at a quarter past seven). And “Alison” followed by “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding” near the end.
But Costello was inventive in his choice of covers, digging out The Byrds’ terrific and little-known “I Trust,” and trying out Bobbie Gentry’s “Ode to Billie Joe” at the start of Mose Allison’s “Everybody’s Cryin’ Mercy.” He was equally playful in his handling of songs, which often shift sometimes for just a verse, to quote other songs, as when he tagged The Specials’ “Ghost Town” to the end of “Clubland,” creating a kind of concluding chapter of urban nightlife.
Even a full throated “Happy Birthday” for longtime drummer Pete Thomas (whose 70th doesn’t happen until August 9) saw indispensable pianist Steve Nieve adding a bit of of Gershwin’s “Rhapsody of Blue.” By now, the addition of Austin guitarist Charlie Sexton blends more naturally to the sound of the Imposters than it did initially, with a lighter melodic touch and a willingness to exchange solos with the frontman.
In many ways the heart of his set were some overlooked songs from this century’s collaborations with The Roots, “Come the Meantimes,” or Allen Toussaint, “Wonder Woman.” At the piano, Costello shared a couple songs from his musical A Face in the Crowd set to open in London in September—the title song and the gospel-infused “Blood & Hot Sauce.” And as much as the con man politician in the old story had a familiar contemporary ring to it, he declined to speak that name.
Still, Costello had some messages to impart to a DC crowd through his music, reflecting the national mood in “Meantimes,” seeming to eschew nationalism in “No Flag” (which turns out more from his emotional fascism catalog), and closing the set and his tour—after what would seem a more natural end with “Alison” and “Peace, Love and Understanding”—with “We Are All Cowards Now,” his pointed commentary in the voice of gun nuts.
