A&E

By the time he had scored a proper U.S. pop hit with Cruel to Be Kind in 1979, Nick Lowe had already established himself as a seminal figure on the U.K. music scene, producing classic records for the Damned (including England's first punk 45), the Pretenders and Elvis Costello.

He may be best remembered, though, for an earlier song most people never heard him sing.

Costello's third Lowe-produced album, Armed Forces, included a spirited remake of Lowe's (What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding. Since then, it has been covered by Bill Murray(in Lost in Translation) and Bruce Springsteen (on the Vote for Change tour). But the version more people have purchased is the one by Curtis Stigers on the 17-times-platinum soundtrack to The Bodyguard.

Meanwhile, Lowe has repositioned himself from irreverent power-pop goof to roots-rock elder statesman through a string of understated gems, from 1994's The Impossible Bird to last year's At My Age.

Here's Lowe on how he found himself pulling in his best reviews.

Question: Did something inspire the change in direction your career seemed to take in the '90s?

Answer: I suppose a few years back now, when I realized my career as a pop star was over - I'm talking about the '80s now - I thought to myself, "Well, I've done pretty well. My pop-star thing is over. I'm not troubling the charts anymore. But I don't really feel like I've done anything yet." I knew I'd had a couple of hits myself, and I'd written a few things for other people. I'd produced some good records for other people, but I didn't really feel that I'd done anything.

I started thinking how strange it was that in almost any other form of popular music, for instance, jazz, you couldn't be too old, and also, until recently, country and Western. Or blues. Who wants to listen to a kid singing the blues? So I started trying to figure out a way that I could use the fact that I was getting older as a distinct advantage, as an actual asset.

Q: Do you feel you could have had more pop hits here or was Cruel to Be Kind an anomaly?

A: I remember thinking that my time had come. I was very ambitious and ready for it. But I didn't really know what to do. All I knew was I wanted to make a fuss, make a noise. And it didn't take me very long to realize that I didn't have what it took to be one of those pop artists like Elton John or Cher. I don't know anyone who's got an Elton John record or a Cher record, but they sell millions and millions of them. Those people are a mystery to me, and I realized that I wasn't one of them.

But back to your question, I think it's because I couldn't do it. I couldn't concentrate on the amazing amount of work it takes to sustain it. I got my one Cruel to Be Kind hit, really, because I could barely avoid it. I only had to do something that was sort of half good and it was going to be a hit because my time had come.

Q: It's a great hit if you had to have just one.

A: I still really enjoy playing it to audiences, because even if they don't really know who I am, as soon they hear that, it's "Oh, I know that one." That's my calling card to them.

Q: How did it feel to have Jesus of Cool get a U.S. release after 30 years?

A: If someone had told me 30 years ago that people would even remember this record. I didn't even think there might be a pop business in 30 years time, but to have this record reviewed so favorably, I would have told them they were mad. I was young and ambitious and wanted to make a name for myself back then, and I knew the record would get noticed because I'd enjoyed some success producing records for other people, most notably Elvis Costello.

I knew the record was irreverent and cheesy in a way, full of obvious steals, really cheeky, obvious theft, grand larceny from other people's records, which back then, in pre-sampling times, was really frowned upon. So I did it really obviously, 'cause that was the way it was back then. . . . So to have it released 30 years later and have it so well-reviewed was amazing.

Q: I read an interview you did where you said you thought punk was awful. Do you feel the irreverence of Jesus of Cool was in the spirit of those punk-rock times?

A: Oh, yeah, I loved the spirit of the times. That was really good fun. It's just the music that I thought was pretty much, across the board, really awful, apart from one or two exceptions - the Ramones, for instance, who I think were the best. But in the main, that wasn't the point. The music wasn't supposed to be enjoyed. But the times it existed in were fantastic.

Q: Did you and Elvis set out to make a New Wave-flavored record with Armed Forces?

A: When we did his first album, and to a certain extent his second one, I was the producer, he was this kid that had been signed and had to sort of do what I said. But after a while, it was clear that Elvis wasn't just some goon who was going to have 10 minutes in the spotlight, maybe have a couple hits and then clear off. And I became more a facilitator and a sort of cheerleader.

Q: Those changing roles didn't seem to hurt your friendship any.

A: We were and still are very good friends. He was a great fan of the band I was in, Brinsley Schwarz. He used to come and see us, especially when we played up in Liverpool and the northwest of England, because that's where he came from. We were playing in the Cavern Club one night, the Brinsleys, and Elvis came in, or Declan as his name is, and I said, "Look, there's that bloke. I'm going to buy him a drink and see what his story is." He's quite a bit younger than I am, and I don't know, I always felt a bit of a big-brotherly thing toward him, a sort of slightly disapproving older brother.

Reach the reporter at ed.masley@arizonarepublic.com or 602-444-4495.