composed by Reginald K. Dwight and Bernie Taupin
The 45 of this song is the first recording I ever bought with my own cash, back when it was on the radio ALL THE TIME (and Caribou was my first album). Apart from my 11-year-old’s pleasure in not having to wait five extra minutes for some DJ to play this damn song when I wanted to hear it, I thought the song itself wonderfully bizarre and have never thought otherwise. Even in 1974, no one went to Number 1 on top of this much guitar noise, notwithstanding its textbook AM radio structure: verse, chorus, verse, chorus, solo, repeat chorus, out, in 3:42 flat. And what was this song actually about? Elton’s reliance on a separate lyricist had long allowed him to voice characters or narrators as hetero as his lyricist was. On this occasion, Bernie’s lyric, reportedly inspired by a coke-fuelled post-gig tantrum, actually induced Elton to embody himself, which Elton appears to have relished hugely. The album (the second named after its recording studio) was done in a rush while touring and it sounds like all the insulation was just melting off their wires. Inspired desperation rarely sustains, but rock and roll it does.
Note: 25 secular essays (each one exactly 200 words long) about 25 songs, originally intended to appear one per day during Advent (or so) from Dec. 1 through Dec. 25, ultimately extended to Twelfth Night (or so). And now, MB has pretty much got all this stuff out of his system for quite a while . . .
1 comment:
Enjoyed reading these over the holidays!
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