I was driving home from work yesterday. I was listening to my favorite radio station, as I do most every evening on my commute home. It is a commercial-free public radio station that plays an eclectic mix of new and old, popular and obscure and features music from all sorts of genres. A little before 5 PM, the drive-time DJ played "Right On Time," a 2021 release from Grammy Award-winning singer-songwriter Brandi Carlile. When the song ended, I heard the opening notes to a song I had not heard in years, perhaps decades. It was one of those moments where I knew I knew the song and quickly tried to rush ahead — in my mind — to a chorus or familiar part of the song to identify it. As the singer sang, the lyrics came to me as though I had just heard the song a minute earlier. Suddenly, it hit me and I instantly smiled like I had bumped into an old friend. (To be honest, bumping into an old friend wouldn't always evoke a smile from me.) The song was "Holiday Inn," a not-played-so-much album track from Elton John's 1971 release Madman Across the Water.
I was immediately transported back to the tenth year of my life. Even at a young age, I was an avid music fan. When I was six or seven, my Uncle Sidney gave me a stack of 45s that he pulled from one of the many jukeboxes that he serviced. (I think that was his job, but, as much as I love my Uncle Sidney, what he did for a living was decidedly sketchy.) Among the records — its grooves well-worn from countless plays in some unknown bar or diner — were many Beatles songs, all sporting the familiar yellow and orange swirl label from Capitol Records. Despite the pops and scratches, I played those records over and over, first on my little Close-N-Play phonograph, the
worst possible invention geared towards music aficionados and vinylphiles. Later, my parents broke down and purchased a real stereo for our family room, featuring an AM-FM radio and a built-in 8-track player. Soon, I was buying 45s on my own, with The Archies' "Sugar Sugar" and the Fifth Dimension's take on "Aquarius" as the first entries in a years-long collection of recorded music.
At the beginning of 1971, I purchased my first album. It was Tapestry by Carole King, a stellar collection of songs that deservedly swept the Grammys that year. I was still buying 45s, though, as album prices at the time, were still pretty steep for the income of a ten year-old. I bought two 45s one day after saving up enough money and "Tiny Dancer" and "Levon" by this new singer named Elton John were now part of my blossoming collection. I had heard those songs on the radio and I was hooked. They stood out from the other offerings on the AM airwaves. That is something that I have always looked for in music, songs that don't sound like everything else. Among the girl group holdovers and Motown smoothness, Elton John's plaintive voice was fresh and new and unfamiliar. Sure, in 1971, there were songs by the Rolling Stones and The Doors and Sly and the Family Stone... but I was TEN! I was still mesmerized by The Funky Phantom, reeling from the cancelation of The Banana Splits and unaware that The Jackson Five were real people and not just cartoons. So, listening to Elton John was a revelation for little Josh.
In November 1971, my brother — four years my senior — came home with a copy of
Madman Across the Water, the actual album that, not only contained the non-radio edited versions of "Tiny Dancer" and "Levon", but a slew of other songs by the fledgling Mr. John... including the epic title song clocking in at nearly six minutes!
Twice the length of the poppy little ditties blasting out of my transistor radio. That album got a ton of play in the Pincus household, even by my mom — a proud rock and roller who, at sixty years old, attended a Culture Club concert with a bunch of eighteen year-olds, co-workers at the clothing store where she was employed. The songs — just nine of them — were all wonderfully crafted pieces of music. They ran the gamut from angry rockers like "Rotten Peaches" to illustrative (though historically inaccurate) stories like "Indian Sunset." And, of course, "Holiday Inn," a Bernie Taupin-penned ode to the lonely life of a rock star on the road.
Madman Across the Water was the beginning of my love and admiration of Elton John.
Over the next few years, Elton John was pumping out albums like a man possessed. Between 1971 and 1976, Elton John released eight albums, including two double albums. Some years saw the release of two albums. And these were all chock full of hits and album cuts that should have been hits. This was Elton John at his most prolific and most successful. In addition to chart-topping album sales (six consecutive Number One albums), Elton toured extensively, selling out venues worldwide. As funds were short for me, I relied on my brother to keep our house stocked with the latest Elton John releases. I remember having to scrape together nine bucks to purchase a ticket to see Elton John on an upcoming Philadelphia stop on his current tour. On July 6, 1976, I got to see the spectacular Mr. John at the Philadelphia Spectrum, as he toured in support of what would become my favorite of his albums - Rock of the Westies. (Yeah? Fight me!) He was terrific and even warranted the higher-than-usual ticket price.
Later that very same year, my love of Elton John came crashing down hard. I purchased my first Elton John album on my own. It was the overly-ambitious — and rightly panned —
Blue Moves, a two-record set that would forever be compared to
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.
Rolling Stone magazine, a publication I find both self-righteous and irrelevant, described the 1976 effort as "[containing] nowhere near enough good songs to justify the extended length." For once, I
agreed with something I read in
Rolling Stone. Oh, I didn't
just give up on
Blue Moves. Not by any stretch. I listened to it... again and again. I gave it every chance. I
wanted to like it. I
desperately wanted to like. But, in my opinion as a loyal and devout Elton John fan, it
stunk! The lead single "Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word" sounded like a cheap attempt at recreating "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me" and "Someone Saved My Life Tonight." It seemed very formulaic and rushed. And... honestly... I can't remember any other song from the album. I was done. I washed my hands of Elton John. Luckily, I had discovered
Queen a few years earlier and
they would only disappoint me when Freddie Mercury died and Brian May wouldn't shut his goddamn mouth. Elton John released 20 more albums after
Blue Moves. I can't name one.
But hearing "Holiday Inn" coming from my car speakers was like entering a time machine. And those four minutes and seventeen seconds were nice. Really, really nice.
No comments:
Post a Comment