Graded on a Curve:
Elton John,
Don’t Shoot Me, I’m Only the Piano Player

As Elton John bids a bittersweet adieu to playing live with his 2018 Farewell Yellow Brick Road Tour, let us all reflect for a moment on what he has given us. Speaking just for myself, he gave me everything; Elton John was the idol of my unfortunately well-mannered youth, and his were the albums I lost myself in when the world was too much with me.

Not for nothing did my friends start calling me Elton.

And I wasn’t alone. It’s hard to imagine now, but during the mid-seventies the unprepossessing (short, plump, balding) English piano rocker was King, boss, God, and bigger than anybody.

Forget McCartney, Lennon, Frampton even; Sir Elton conquered the world (seven consecutive No. 1 U.S. albums, a heap of hit singles) and he did it his way. To listen to his songs now (and I’m including the big hit singles) is to realize how weird, wonderful, and utterly idiosyncratic they are.

I dare you to come up with another major artist who produced hits as defiantly unorthodox as “Rocket Man” (astronaut as 9-5 drudge) “Bennie and the Jets” (electric boots glam rock) and “The Bitch Is Back” (“I get high every evening sniffin’ pots of glue”). As for the non-hits, I recommend you to “Solar Prestige a Gammon” (top shelf gibberish rock), “I Think I’m Gonna Kill Myself” (teenage angst complete with tap-dance solo), and “Social Disease” (country-and-gonorrhea anyone?).

In short, the man is one of a kind, and we may never see his likes again.

When it comes to Elton’s string of chart-topping LPs, 1973’s Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only the Piano Player tends to get lost in the shuffle. In part this is due to the fact that it’s not the best of them. But some of the blame falls on Elton and his sheer prolixity; Don’t Shoot Me came hot on the heels of 1972’s wonderful Honky Chateau and was quickly followed by 1973’s brilliant Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, and the record-buying public simply didn’t have sufficient time to appreciate its merits.

That said, it produced two hit singles; “Crocodile Rock” would become John’s first top-charting U.S. single, and “Daniel” went to number two. The former is a spritely pop lightweight that played well during the rock ’n’ roll nostalgia craze; Elton’s “la la la’s” always make me happy, and I love the way he sings “Suzie went leftist for some foreign guy.” Which he doesn’t, really. But I like the song better that way.

As for “Daniel,” it’s one of the least jingoistic songs about a vet returning home from Vietnam ever recorded, and I like the twist; Daniel doesn’t split for Spain because he’s being called a baby killer–he’s simply tired of being called a goddamn hero.

Aside from them? The album boasts a couple of my faves. The piano-driven “Teacher I Need You” is the bounciest ode to teen hormonal overdrive this side of “Hot for Teacher,” and the leer quotient is lower; Elton’s not a David Lee Roth smart ass, he’s just a normal kid, and he knows his “Errol Flynn advances” won’t do him a bit of good.

“Elderberry Wine” is a classic John-Taupin cut; the horns bring the choruses to bright life, while John gets down and dirty on the verses. Sounds mean too, right down to the “Woo!” “Blues for My Baby and Me” is John the ballad master at his best; he’s young and he’s splitting for greener pastures out west with his girl via Greyhound bus, and you can practically feel that Greyhound a-swaying as he sings her into the star-tangled Texas night.

“Midnight Creeper” is a jaunty boogie number and Elton gives it all he’s got; if there’s a nightmare he’s there, and the bitch (who knows how to use a horn section) is definitely back. On “Have Mercy on the Criminal,” on the other hand, he offers up a lesson on how not to employ a horn section; the intro sounds like the theme of a bad sixties’ cop show, and the song itself is both ham-fisted and overwrought.

Similarly, “I’m Going to Be a Teenage Idol” isn’t going to make him a teenage idol; I love the plucky vocals, and Bernie Taupin’s lyrics are great, but the melody just doesn’t cut it. If John really wants to be a “motivated supersonic king of the scene,” I suggest he find himself a catchier (and more propulsive) melody.

“Texan Love Song” is a likable hillbilly oddity that would have been right at home on the oddity-filled Goodbye Yellow Brick Road; Elton declares himself a redneck and staunch anti-communist, and sings “you long hairs are sure gonna die.” It’s a hoot. Which leaves the anthemic “High Flying Bird,” which reaches for the sky but falls short; the song goes out on a lovely grace note, but this baby’s simply not as fetching a tune as Elton was wont to churn out during his Golden Age.

I’m hoping that Elton John’s retirement from touring will spur a resurgence of interest in his albums. Me, I stuck with him through 1976’s Blue Moves before moving on to different things. But he made an indelible impression on me, Elton. For all I know it’ll be one of his songs that goes through my head on my deathbed.

I’m hoping it will be “Bennie and the Jets.” Or “Someone Saved My Life Tonight.” Yeah. I’d like that.

GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+

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