Captain Fantastic: The Definitive Biography of Elton John in the '70s
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The pianist would also give voice to global grief at Princess Diana’s funeral with “Candle in the Wind 1997 (Goodbye England’s Rose),” a reworking of his 1973 classic. The first single to ever be certified Diamond in the United States, “Candle in the Wind 1997” would quickly become the biggest-selling release since U.S. and U.K. singles charts began keeping tally in the 1950s, shifting 33 million copies worldwide in a matter of days while also raising over £55 million for the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fund.
“Right,” Elton said, nodding at his band as the screams on the other side of the stage curtain grew to a fevered pitch.
Original sidemen Nigel Olsson and Dee Murray—finally back in the fold after years in the wilderness—nodded back. As did keyboardist James Newton Howard and guitarists Tim Renwick and Richie Zito. A hometown boy, Zito was particularly enthused about the Central Park gig. “Playing in front of 500,000 people felt like the culmination of my guitar-playing career,” he said. “It was absolutely amazing. Working with Elton was truly the highlight of my career. What an incredible experience, and an honor.”
At exactly 3:00, the curtains pulled back as a massive barrage of red, white and blue balloons were released into the hazy New York sky. The magisterial strains of “Funeral For a Friend” blasting forth at maximum volume, Elton calmly surveyed the endless sea of humanity before him. A decade after playing his first American show to two-hundred-and-fifty people in a smoky West Hollywood club, the Brit had to chuckle as his glance swept over the untold legion of admirers before him.
Twirling a drumstick in his gloved hand, Nigel anxiously awaited his cue. “Central Park was the most nervous I was of any show in my life,” he said later. “It was so overwhelming, really…It was like an ocean of people, of all races and denominations…Everybody was on the same wavelength.”
Elton morphed into a human jukebox that afternoon, running through a twenty-two-song set which included a generous helping of classics from every phase of his career, from “Your Song” to “Tiny Dancer” to “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.” He also provided acidic readings of lesser-known gems such as “All the Girls Love Alice” and “Have Mercy on the Criminal,” as well as a gorgeously anthemic “Philadelphia Freedom.”
“It was a great day,” Dee said of the frisson-soaked show. “One of our best [concerts] ever.”
“There was a certain magic,” Nigel agreed. “It was like never having been away.”
Halfway through, Elton told the enthralled crowd, “We’re gonna do a song written by a friend of mine, who I haven’t seen for a long time. He only lives just over the road. And he hasn’t made a record for ages, but he’s doing one at the moment.”
The friend was John Lennon, and the record was to become Double Fantasy.
Lennon was listening intently, his Dakota windows thrown wide as Elton’s moving rendition of “Imagine” swept past the oak trees and floated into the deep summer gloaming.
“John Lennon,” Elton said with a nod as the song ended to a tsunami of appreciative screams.
Beyond its import as a cultural touchstone, the Central Park show was definitive proof that Elton’s self-imposed exile into rock’s hinterlands was over. His experimental flirtations with Philly soul and Eurodisco behind him, he was free to fire one perfect pop track after another into the jagged Manhattan skyline: “Harmony,” “Ego,” “Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word,” “Little Jeannie,” “Rocket Man.” Each was better received than the last.
“Elton played ravingly,” Judie Tzuke said, “as he always does.”
During the brute force of “Saturday Night’s Alright (For Fighting),” Elton playfully changed the lyrics to better fit the occasion: “Oh, you’re packed pretty tight in Central Park, and I’m looking for somebody to help me lark…”
“[The concert] was a welcome gift from the reigning King of pop-rock,” journalist Roy Trakin noted in his Musician review days later. “[Elton] mesmerized what seemed to be an entire city with his music, which long ago became our songs.”
While the musical highlight of the performance was undoubtedly a bravura ten-minute rendition of “Bennie and the Jets”—which featured an inventively syncopated boogie-woogie piano solo that Elton would more fully explore with each successive tour of the coming decade—the key moment of the entire afternoon came during “Someone Saved My Life Tonight,” when a dark-haired fan darted across the stage to hug Elton as he pounded away on the keys.
After a quick embrace, she turned to run back off the stage before a burly bodyguard could dispatch her.
But Elton had other plans.
Taking her by the arm, he guided her to sit beside him as the song surged toward to its emotional climax.
“I made it!” she told him ecstatically.
The pianist nodded—they’d both made it.
Elton was reenergized. Back on top of his game and looking boldly toward the future.
The bitch was back.
He’d never left at all.
∞
AFTERWORD
Elton John has influenced me in every way. Ray Charles was a direct influence, and Little Richard, Fats Waller, people like that. Stride piano players. And in the ‘70s, Elton was inescapable. He was everywhere. I had a transistor radio and I used to play along with whatever played on the radio. I dug the soulful artists—Otis Redding, Sam Cooke, James Brown, all those things—and Elton really tapped into that. He tapped into the gospel thing, into the same things that Leon Russell tapped into. And of course, pop music, too. It was really amazing. Elton incorporated all these different elements and genres of music and made them uniquely his own. And he’s done that for many years. He’s really created his own thing, with Bernie Taupin, especially. This really unique combination of pop music and poetic conceptual ideas and rock ‘n’ roll and gospel and roots music of all kinds. He’s so soulful. Elton’s a really soulful dude.
And when I was a kid, Elton John was also around in my life in a different way. My mom had a mutual friend, and Elton and Rod Stewart lived next door to each other on Doheny Drive in Los Angeles. It was a regular party. When Elton was in town, it was a bigger party. And when he wasn’t in town, it was still a party. Same thing with Rod Stewart. It was like a totally crazy party at that time in the ‘70s. There were a lot of drugs, a lot of everything. And once that ended in the early ‘80s—maybe even 1980—it was a totally different scene, and I never connected with that.
In the late ‘90s or early 2000s, I started covering “Take Me to the Pilot” in my live set, because I thought it was such a fun song. And it really captured this particular facet, this connection of gospel chords, R&B, soul music, and really interesting lyrics. Even to this day I don’t know that I fully understand that song. There’s a lot of Bernie Taupin songs that I don’t really understand, but that’s all right. Sometimes you don’t need to understand something to love it. So “Pilot” is one of my favorites. And “Burn Down the Mission, “Border Song”—there’s a lot of good ones, I love a tone of his music. It’s funny, there’s a whole fan base of Elton’s that are like Dead-Heads, they go to every show. And there are all these bootlegs, like the night he opened for Leon Russell back in ’70. I was given these two bootlegs of Elton’s, one from the show before 11/17/70. It’s very col. I even have a recording of my dad {Jim Croce] playing “Your Song” on guitar in the kitchen, back in 1970. It’s really sweet.
I was having dinner one time with a great jazz musician, and we had this really interesting conversation about musicianship. The idea that he had, which I feel is absolutely true, is that there are certain players who are otherworldly, like Oscar Peterson and Vladimir Horowitz—they’re playing at such a high conceptual level. John Coltrane, Thelonius Monk. These guys are playing at a kind of level that is so unique and special and rare. But when people play to their fullest potential, regardless of what natural gifts they have, when they pursue music with all their heart, it sometimes lifts them far above anything
that should be there. To me, Bob Dylan is in that category. And John Lennon. These are people that are not musical geniuses on one level—they were good players, but there was nothing genius in their playing, it wasn’t at the same level as an Art Tatum or something like that. But when they played to their full potential, it changed the world, and it changed the way people felt about themselves and about other people. And Elton John is like that. He’s a really gifted musician, he’s a really gifted player, and when you see footage of him playing in the ‘70s, or hear live recordings of him playing in the ‘70s and playing to his full potential, you’re just like, ‘Wow he is playing as well as he can play.’ And when you hear that, it’s life-changing. It’s not because he’s playing a million notes, or because he’s deconstructing a song in a way that no one’s ever done before. It’s because he’s playing his heart out. And that is just completely magic.
So I’ve loved Elton’s music my whole life. And still to this day, when my wife and I are driving into the sunset, we have this ritual—especially on a long drive, if we’re in the desert or the country, it doesn’t matter where we are—if we’re driving and the sun is setting, we have this ritual of playing an Elton John song. And I don’t know why, but every single time it’s magic. I’ve got three different songs of Elton’s stuck in my head now. “Rocket Man,” for one. That’s one of my favorite Elton hits ever. And if the sun’s going down and you’re listening to “Rocket Man,” it’s an amazing thing. And if you’re on the West Coast as you’re driving through the desert to the beach, and you see that green flash from the sun refracting through the atmosphere, it’s an awesome kind of moment. I’m tell you—try it out sometime and see what you think.
- A.J. Croce, June, 2016
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Elton John’s story would have been impossible to properly tell without the kind assistance of Gus Dudgeon, producer extraordinaire. Gus was always unfailingly witty and forthcoming during our extensive discussions together, and for that I’m eternally grateful. Thank you also to his wonderful wife Sheila, for her generosity of spirit. They are both missed.
I am further indebted to Nigel Olsson and Davey Johnstone, both of whom graciously shared their insights with me at an Elton John Expo in Atlanta, Georgia, as well as Clive Franks, who took the time to let me interview him before an Elton John concert in Phoenix, Arizona.
My sincere thanks extend to the many others who were kind enough to open their memory banks to me for this project. They include Sir Tim Rice, Spencer Davis, Rick Wakeman, Paul Buckmaster, Caleb Quaye, May Pang, José Feliciano, Fred Mandel, Linda Lewis, Stuart Epps, Ian Anderson, Dee Murray, David Larkham, Russ Regan, Kenny Passarelli, Sherlie Matthews, Clydie King, Richie Zito, Tim Renwick, Evel Knievel, Jean-Luc Ponty, Ray Williams, Uri Geller, B.J. Cole, Gene Page, Chris Charlesworth, Roger Pope, Sue Pope, Gavin Sutherland, Angela Bowie, Ian Beck, David Nutter, Ross Wilson, Phil Ramone, Liberty DeVitto, James Fortune, Martyn Ford, Maldwyn Pope, Judie Tzuke, Robert Lamm, Pete Gavin-Rowney, Helen Piena, John Carsello, Stevie Lange, Leo Lyons, Valerie Tucker, Linda Hannon (née Woodrow), Sue Ayton, Norm Winter, Steve Holley, Alzi Clanton, Madeline Bell, Ross ‘Fergie’ Ferguson, Jon Scott, Joe Boyd, Guy Babylon, Simon Nicol, Dave Pegg, Bob Birch, Michele Birch, Bill Cameron, Van Dyke Parks, Gerry Bremner, Duncan Faure, Barry Morgan, Bob Sirott, Barbara Moore, Steve Lukather, Jerry Hey, Bill Reichenbach, Alvin Taylor, A.J. Croce, Michael Chapman, Paul Linehan, Rick Kemp, Eric Van Lustbader, Richard Barnes, Harry Casey, Nancy Lee Andrews, David Dills, Dave Mattacks, Emma Snowdon-Jones, John “Fee” Waybill, Brenda Russell, The Overtures’ Steve Phypers and Den Pugsley, Charlie Morgan, Bill Martin and Cidny Bullens—who performed and recorded as Cindy Bullens in the ‘70s. I also wish to thank the amazing Mr. Robert Hilburn, a musical scribe of Gandalf-like stature, for his kind words of encouragement.
To live a life as kaleidoscopic as Elton’s is—one imagines—to live inside an alien funhouse. Fortuitously, few members of that rarest of fraternities, the über-famous, have ever managed (or dared) to provide such consistently penetrating, honest and self-aware insight as Britain’s favorite son. Thus I’ve relied to a great extent on the many contemporaneous interviews that Elton—as well as Bernie, and others within their small circle of intimates—gave during the ‘70s. In real time, as it were, when insights were at their most agenda-free and memories at their sharpest.
Further detail was gleaned through multiple online resources, including eltonography.com, eltondaily.com, eltonjohnworld.com and eltonjohn.com—the latter Elton’s official website and a tremendous source of up-to-the-minute news and tour-date information. I also wish to thank Kevin Bell, editor/owner of East End Lights (eastendlights.com), a trailblazing fanzine that has been holding the Elton flag high since the early ‘90s, for allowing me full access to the EEL archives.
A grateful nod of the cap also extends to the biographers who have come before me, chief amongst them Philip Norman, David Buckley, Mark Bego, Keith Hayward and Elizabeth Rosenthal. I humbly thank each and every one of them for their efforts, often undertaken not for monetary gain—compensation in this particular realm is often negligible, if it exists at all—but rather out of a shared passion to celebrate the music that helped lend meaning and depth to so many of our lives. We are all brothers and sisters, of a sort—cast alone between the furrows of a field no longer sewn by anyone.
Finally, a very special thank you to David Provini, who kept me on the straight and narrow throughout the arduous and seemingly never-ending journey I found myself on during the writing of this book. (1988 to 2016 is, to quote a certain pop song, “a long, long time.”) And a heartfelt kiss on the head to Cooper, the best Golden Retriever in three counties, for loyally keeping my feet warm during endless hours of research and rewrites; he never once complained, even after having sat through “Billy Bones and the White Bird” six-hundred times.
A portion of the proceeds from this book will go to the Elton John AIDS Foundation. EJAF is an amazing organization, one which I highly recommend you investigate and support, if you’re so inclined. They do important work.
- David John DeCouto
Concerts
1970
UNITED KINGDOM/EUROPEAN TOUR
March 24 Revolution Club, London, UK
April 21 Roundhouse, Chalk Farm, London, UK
May 7 Roundhouse, Chalk Farm, London, UK
May 9 Slough College, Slough, UK
June 5 Marquee Club, London, UK
June 17 Lyceum Ballroom, London, UK
June 21 Roundhouse, Chalk Farm, London, UK
June 25 Playhouse Theatre, London, UK
June 26 St. Mary’s College, Twickenham, UK
July 3 Haverstock Hill, Hampstead, London, UK
July 4 Speakeasy, London, UK
July 11 Knokke Festival, Knokke, Belgium
July 28 Champs Elysee Theatre, Paris, France
August 13 Playhouse Theatre, London, UK
August 15 Krumlin Barkisland, Halifax, UK
NORTH AMERICAN TOUR
August 25 Troubadour Club, Los Angeles, California, US
August 26 Troubadour Club, Los Angeles, California, US
August 27 Troubadour Club, Los Angeles, California, US
August 28 Troubadour Club, Los Angeles, California, US
August 29 Troubadour Club, Los Angeles, California, US
August 30 Troubadour Club, Los Angeles, California, US
September 8 Troubadour Club, San Francisco, California, US
September 9 The Playboy Club, New York, New York, US
September 11 Electric Factory, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, US
September 12 Electric Factory, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, US
October 2 Royal Albert Hall, London, UK
NORTH AMERICAN TOUR
October 29 Boston Tea Party, Boston, Massachusetts, US
October 30 Boston Tea Party, Boston, Massachusetts, US
October 31 Boston T
ea Party, Boston, Massachusetts, US
November 6 The Electric Factory, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, US
November 7 The Electric Factory, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, US
November 8 The Mill Run Theatre, Baltimore, Maryland, US
November 12 Fillmore West, San Francisco, California, US
November 13 Fillmore West, San Francisco, California, US
November 14 Fillmore West, San Francisco, California, US
November 15 Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, L.A., California, US
November 17 A&R Studios, New York, New York, US
November 20 Fillmore East, New York, New York, US
November 21 Fillmore East, New York, New York, US
November 22 University of Bridgeport, Bridgeport, Connecticut, US
November 23 Glassboro State College, Glassboro, New Jersey, US
November 25 Auditorium Theatre, Chicago, Illinois, US
November 26 Music Hall, Cleveland, Ohio, US
November 27 East Town Theatre, Detroit, Michigan, US
November 28 East Town Theatre, Detroit, Michigan, US
November 29 Guthrie Theatre, Minneapolis, Minnesota, US
December 1 Champ Auditorium, Fulton, Missouri, US
December 2 War Memorial Coliseum, Syracuse, New York, US
December 4 Anaheim Convention Centre, Anaheim, California, US
December 5 Swing Auditorium, San Bernadino, California, US
December 6 Royce Hall, Los Angeles, California, US
December 20 The Roundhouse, Chalk Farm, London, UK
1971