Gifted Typist

When a musical legend comes to town, you go for more than just the music. You go to be reunited with your past.

Sir Elton John is one of those legends. His songs make up part of who we are. They remind us of our friends, our common experiences, where we came from. And there’s nothing like going for a stroll down Memory Lane to revisit these memories..

I was lucky enough to see this legend last night, but it wasn’t quite the stroll down Memory Lane I was anticipating.

The show consisted of Elton and his grand piano. No bells, no whistles, no opening act, no accompanying musicians. And he played for three hours before an audience of 10,000.

But it was a different Elton John than the musical tour de force I recall from my Grade 7 school dances. That was a much younger Elton, driven by explosive creative energy, ego and pop chart success. There was no Bitch is Back at last night’s show, No Saturday Night’s Alright.

Nor was it the Elton I saw at Wembley Stadium in London in 1992. That Elton – now well into legend status – was still driven by the same unrelenting energy. His back-up band and over-the-top stage antics fleshed out the electrifying performance. When he stood on his piano seat and started swinging his rhinestone-studded jacket in the air before throwing it off-stage, the crowd of 80,000 went wild.

This was our Elton, and he drained you with that drive and energy.

But last night’s Elton was different creature, more subdued and perhaps more his 60+ age. He started with the low-key Your Song and followed with four more songs – “pieces” he called them- from that early stage of his career, all mellow and relatively unknown to me.

It was so unlike the flamboyant Elton I witnessed in 1992 and a world away from the wild Elton I encountered in Grade 7.

Friday night’s show featured a laid-back song list that touched on themes such as gun violence and AIDS in Reagan-era America. Being a vintage showman, he did please the crowd with classics like Philadelphia Freedom, Someone Save My Live Tonight, Don’t Let the Sun, Rocket Man and Benny and the Jets, but his arrangements were mellower than the originals and unadorned by accompaniment.

There was no piano-keyboard ripping like we remembered in Saturday Night’s Alright, but the playing was virtuosic and the voice held out through the entire show.

As I overcame the mild disappointment of not having old memories resurrected by this concert, I began to appreciate Elton the artist, rather than the Elton of MY youth.

I was seeing a side of him I’d never experienced before, the subtlety of his social commentary and the depth of his emotions. I watched the command of his fingers over the piano and I marvelled over the fact that one person could fill an entire arena with his voice and piano (with the help of amplification, of course.)

I was touched by this more introspective and thoughtful Elton, perhaps because I’m older than I was in Grade 7 and in ’92. This was Elton John on his terms, not mine.

And I felt privileged to be entertained by this incredible artist who still so much a part of who I am and where I came from.

This entry was posted on Saturday, September 27th, 2008 at 5:36 pm and is filed under Uncategorized, odd things. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.