Was it the time he rang his record company to demand they turn down the wind outside? Or the occasion that he pelted Bob Dylan with oranges for not knowing how to play charades? When the confetti falls from the ceiling, this veteran of hundreds of arena shows looks genuinely surprised. In his harrowing, must-read 2019 memoir, Me, multiple episodes vie for the prize of “peak Elton”. Elton John could match John Lennon for acerbic put-downs play tit-for-tat pranks with Rod Stewart did not get on with David Bowie. It does feel like several lifetimes ago that Reginald Dwight came up alongside all the other talented rhythm and blues fans of the era, many of whom would join him in household name status.
Underneath all the hats and glasses, it’s possible to discern the old-school musician’s musician whose place in what Leonard Cohen called “ the tower of song” is assured. Given his infamous volatility – not for nothing is one of his more raucous autobiographical tunes called The Bitch Is Back – the patience of this band remains a credit to a complex man. His mercurial chops are echoed by a great set of fellow players who have been with him, off and on, for years.
