Elton John - The Rocket Man saga

Da Bach al rock and roll

Music has the power to heal. It has the ability to pull people out of themselves for a couple of hours

Every Friday afternoon, curled up on the sofa at home, young Reginald Kenneth Dwight anxiously waits for his mother Sheila to come back from work. Her brief stop at Siever's, an electronics shop in the London suburb of Harrow, has by now become a thrilling ritual, bringing home a new 78 and discovering the sound of one of his favourite big bands. But one Friday turns out to be even more surprising: a devoted fan of American vocalists, Sheila gives Reginald the record of a certain Elvis Presley, “the strangest-looking man ever seen”. That Friday afternoon's new single is called “Heartbreak Hotel”, released in the UK in 1956 on the Rca label. Born in March 1947 in the Pinner neighbourhood, Reginald is only nine, but his musical knowledge is already broad enough for him to grasp that Elvis's single is revolutionary. From the haircut to the clothes, Presley's physical presence is overwhelming, and it shatters the imagination of Reginald, who up to that point had worshipped the Trinidadian pianist Winifred Atwell. It's actually “The Skater's Waltz”, one of Atwell's most famous compositions, that kickstarts the legend: Reginald plays it entirely by ear, convincing Sheila of her son's natural talent.

Elvis Presley's guitar sounds like a miracle in the young life of Reginald Dwight, born and raised in Pinner at the dawn of the Fifties. English society is painted in shades of grey, caught between bigotry and the fear of being perpetually judged. The newborn Reginald is a “war baby”, the son of Stanley Dwight, a Royal Air Force pilot and amateur trumpet player. Stanley and Sheila are very different people, but the uncertainty of the war speeds up their decision to marry in 1945. Once he decides to continue his military career, Stanley is often abroad on duty, so young Reginald grows up in a house full of women, at 55 Pinner Hill Road. There's Aunt Win, but above all Grandma Ivy, who helps ease a tension-filled atmosphere caused by Sheila's constant bad moods, as she finds herself, at just 21, with a child and an unhappy marriage. So the only two bright spots in Reginald's childhood turn out to be Grandma Ivy and the jazz and classical compilations always playing on the radio. Records are fascinating, almost magical objects, by far his favourite gifts. And there's also a piano at home, the instrument young Reginald loves most, and at the age of seven he begins his first lessons under the supervision of Mrs Jones. At family parties, the first songs he's learned echo through the room, “My Old Man Said Follow The Van” or “Roll Out The Barrel”, old-fashioned standards beloved by everyone.

As he moves his first fingers across the black and white keys, Reginald increasingly suffers from the already rare presence of his father Stanley. Trapped in a flat, emotionless relationship with Sheila, Stanley Dwight is unable to express any feeling, steeped as he is in the rules learned during his military career. Despite loving music, Reginald's father disapproves of several of his son's behaviours, often resorting to harsh methods. At eleven, when he enrols at Pinner County Grammar School, Reginald is only happy outside the walls of home, where he behaves in an orderly, balanced way. Slightly overweight, the boy also has several friends and even takes up sport. A thoroughly ordinary school life, interrupted at most by the occasional trip to France. The already fragile family environment is shattered for good when Stanley comes home permanently, growing ever more intolerant of a chubby, deeply insecure son. To find some psychological order, Reginald throws himself headlong into music, collecting records almost obsessively. From “Hound Dog” to “Blue Suede Shoes”, all the way to “Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On” and “Long Tall Sally”. The explosion of rock and roll brings colour into the life of a boy who started out playing Bach, Chopin and Mozart. A delight for Reginald, but a real cross to bear for Stanley – a Frank Sinatra fan – who immediately orders his son not to “get caught up” in a musical revolution that is, above all, a revolution in manners. While his childhood friends play at being Elvis, he is “like a miniature copy of his father”, a chubby boy with glasses.

He's only allowed to play Little Richard on the piano when Stanley isn't home. Reginald even has his own first band, The Corvettes, trying to play youth clubs in exchange for a few bottles of Coca-Cola. Music is too great an attraction, far beyond anything his father has planned for his future. It's 1958 when Reginald wins a scholarship to the prestigious Royal Academy of Music, in the heart of London. Within the Edwardian walls of Marylebone Road, his precocious talent is wrung out every Saturday through the notes of Bach and Mozart, while he waits for the Watford match. Naturally, so much as humming a bit of Jerry Lee Lewis is considered sacrilege there, like invoking Satan in the middle of a sermon.

At the dawn of the Sixties, big changes shake up Reginald's adolescence. Stanley and Sheila finally decide to divorce, after years of mutual endurance. Their son naturally goes with his mother, who in the meantime has grown very close to a decorative artist named Fred. A period of serious financial instability follows, since Fred also has four children of his own to support after his own divorce. Despite the run-down state of the new flat in Croxley Green, Reginald is happy, because he can finally wear what he wants and listen to what he wants. In fact, Fred is a rock'n'roll fan and supports his new stepson, even landing him a piano gig at a pub called the Northwood Hills Hotel. Mixing old British standards with Elvis numbers, Reginald's fingers captivate the regulars, who - between base pay and tips - let him earn up to 15 pounds a week. Not bad at all for a fifteen-year-old in the Sixties, who can now afford the luxury of buying a Hohner electric piano and a microphone to be heard better during his evenings at the pub. That first taste of live music is utterly intoxicating: barely has he sat his A-levels at grammar school before Reginald is already set on a career as a real musician, driving Stanley absolutely mad.

Reginald Dwight's great musical adventure begins thanks to his cousin Roy, a professional footballer best known for scoring the opening goal in the 1959 FA Cup final between Nottingham Forest and Luton Town. Roy Dwight has connections in the music industry, particularly with Tony Hiller, general manager of the Mills Music publishing company on Denmark Street - essentially England's answer to Tin Pan Alley.

Meeting Taupin: becoming Elton John

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By the mid-Sixties, Mills Music on Denmark Street isn't doing too well. Just ten years earlier, songwriting was a booming trade, built on writers selling songs to music publishers. But the impact of artists like Bob Dylan or the duo of Lennon and McCartney has been devastating, since it taught musicians themselves that there's no longer any need to perform songs written by professionals. At first, Reginald's job has nothing whatsoever to do with rock'n'roll: four pounds a week to pack sheet music for brass bands and run the shipping office at Mills. Still, it's enough to open a door into the music industry, while his pub performances on the new electric piano continue. Reginald teams up with aspiring star Stuart A Brown for a new set of blues covers drawn from the catalogues of Jimmy Witherspoon and J. B. Lenoir. The two of them, together with drummer Mick Inkpen, even have a manager: Arnold Tendler, a jewellery seller in Soho. Tendler believes this new band can break through, so he rents a prefab hut in Rickmansworth to record a demo that will miraculously end up in front of Fontana Records. The group has chosen the name Bluesology, leaving behind their original name, The Corvettes. Fontana's assessment is positive, so much so that "Come Back Baby" - essentially the first song ever written by Reginald Dwight - is released as a single, promptly turning into an unprecedented flop.

In 1965, a second single, "Mr. Frantic", doesn't even make it onto the BBC Television programme Juke Box Jury. The mix of beat and melodic soul doesn't win over the radio stations, but it does bring Reginald's musical talent to light.

By the end of 1965, Bluesology cross paths with agent Roy Tempest, who specialises in bringing African-American artists over to the UK. One of the most ruthless figures in the British music business, Tempest takes the band touring around England, from the Oasis in Manchester to the Club A Go Go in Newcastle. The pay is poor - "that's paying your dues, baby" - and the van journeys are exhausting, all to end up playing R&B in noisy, booze-soaked clubs. Two shows a night, every night, sometimes even dashing straight from one city to another. Bluesology work themselves to the bone backing artists like the Isley Brothers, Major Lance, Doris Troy and the Labelles. But Reginald doesn't mind, because he's living out his dream: playing every single night alongside his favourite artists, like the mighty Billy Stewart from the Chess stable. This is the period when Reginald soaks up, like a sponge, how to carry yourself on stage, how to dress, how to work a crowd. In 1966, Bluesology perform abroad for the first time, at the Top Ten Club in Hamburg, the same venue where the Beatles played before becoming a global phenomenon.

On the brink of turning twenty, Reginald doesn't drink and doesn't even know what a blowjob is. He's obsessed with music and with his own ambition: he has to become a star.

On the road to success, Reginald already has one thing clear in his mind: Bluesology will never break through, because they're too tied to soul and R&B tradition, churning out classics like "In The Midnight Hour" and "Hold On I'm Coming". His frustration grows as it becomes obvious that his fingers are built to pound a piano like Little Richard, not to work the Hammond B-12 organ installed at the Flamingo on Wardour Street. Just as Reginald is thinking of quitting Bluesology, another turning point arrives: Long John Baldry, a pioneer of British blues and already the founder of Steampacket with Rod Stewart on vocals, suddenly finds himself without a backing band for a date in the south of France, in St. Tropez. As luck would have it, Bluesology happen to be playing right there, a unique opportunity to re-form the group with Elton Dean on saxophone. Reginald can hardly believe it, convinced the group isn't good enough to back Baldry. But Long John believes in the band, which earns itself another year of activity as a result, right through to 1967. Indeed, despite his good relationship with Baldry, Reginald has no intention of carrying on playing the organ, nor is he content to be a mere accompanist in Bluesology.

By the middle of 1967, the die is cast: he turns up in front of Ray Williams, a young producer at Liberty Records, for an audition in which he plays and sings Jim Reeves' "He'll Have To Go". Williams isn't won over, but he can tell straight away that there's hidden talent in Reginald. So he decides to put him in touch with an aspiring songwriter named Bernie Taupin, who - like Reginald - had sent in his own "application" after seeing the ad Liberty Records placed in the New Musical Express. It's effectively a challenge that Ray throws down to Reginald: set Taupin's lyrics to music, and see what comes out of it.

From a very young age, Bernard John "Bernie" Taupin showed, just like Reginald, a deep impatience with school, despite an early talent for writing. At fifteen he decides to quit school for good, to drift around with his mates between games of billiards and early drinking sessions. To support himself, he tries his hand as a typesetter, then as a farmhand on his father's land. In love with American culture, especially the imagery of the Western, Taupin is passionate about nature, literature and narrative poetry. His earliest lyrics - like the elegy "Lady What's Tomorrow?" - are steeped in an aura of rural romanticism, perfectly in tune with the hippie sensibility of the late Sixties. It's in 1967, in fact, that Bernie answers the New Musical Express ad for a vacant songwriting position at Liberty Records. Ray Williams immediately understands that Taupin needs to meet Reginald, to work together on writing "Scarecrow".

Influenced by the music of the Beatles and Leonard Cohen, Reginald and Bernie discover they have a huge amount in common, both artistically and personally. They start spending enormous amounts of time together, writing and playing music, going to the cinema or to their favourite record shop. After failing to get signed by Liberty Records, the two begin recording for Dick James Music, a new publishing company based on New Oxford Street. Under the supervision of sound engineer and guitarist Caleb Quaye, already an auxiliary member of Bluesology, Taupin and Dwight work tirelessly to find the right hype at the height of the English psychedelic era. Dick James, boss of DJM, offers the pair 25 pounds a week to publish their new compositions, convinced the duo can work wonders with ballads and bubblegum pop. Already active with the Beatles through Northern Songs, Dick James is in truth a devotee of the Tin Pan Alley tradition, much closer in spirit to his role as a Jewish businessman than to any rock'n'roll revolutionary. His son Stephen - aka "Tony King" - couldn't be more different, working out of the same building on New Oxford Street at a desk for Air, the association of independent labels founded by George Martin after his falling-out with EMI over the Fab Four's catalogue. Unlike the buttoned-up James, Tony King is a flamboyant, music-mad gay man, always dressed in eye-catching satin, scarves and velvet trousers. Reginald Dwight is enthralled by him, and wants to be exactly like Tony King.

In 1968, when the first single by the Dwight-Taupin duo, "I've Been Loving You", is released, Reginald is wearing a fake fur coat with a leopard-print hat. But more importantly, his name no longer appears as Reginald Dwight, because out of Elton Dean (saxophonist from the old Bluesology) and Long John Baldry, Elton John was born.

Your Song

We were convinced we'd done something good, something that would push us to a new level. We were right

Spring 1968. The single "I've Been Loving You," an orchestral soul-pop ballad produced by Caleb Quaye, fails to generate any commercial interest. A total flop, and one Elton had actually anticipated. As had already happened with the earlier single, the baroque "Skyline Pigeon," the aspiring songwriter's perception is pretty clear-cut: these are pastiches full of borrowed influences and musical references, not songs that are genuinely different. Despite DJM's promotional fanfare and the unconditional support of Tony King — who secured a small deal with the Philips label — Elton John and Bernie Taupin seem nowhere near their big breakthrough. At this already delicate moment, Elton decides to move in with his first girlfriend, Linda Woodrow, who pressures him with the aim of turning him into a crooner, like his idol Buddy Greco. Taupin can't stand Linda and her little dog Caspar, but above all he can't stand Elton's new, unhealthy idea: agreeing to marry her. The former Reginald Dwight asks Long John Baldry to be his best man, but the reaction he gets is nothing short of shocking: "Oh, fucking hell," he explodes while they're drinking in a pub, "What are you doing, living with a bloody woman? Wake up and smell the roses instead. You're gay. You love Bernie far more than you love her." Deafening silence. Elton doesn't flinch — if anything, he immediately starts thinking about how much he cherishes Bernie's company, how fascinated he is by Tony King's look. Then he fires back at Long John, accusing him of simply being drunk: the marriage to Linda will absolutely go ahead. The conviction doesn't last long, though, because between arguments, unspoken thoughts and threats of suicide, the relationship between Elton John and Linda Woodrow comes to an end right there.

As the partnership between Elton John and Bernie Taupin flares into life, the list of artists turning down their songs just keeps growing. While they keep trying out new tracks in the Frome Court flat, Sheila suggests Elton consider getting a real job, maybe at the laundrette nearby that's looking for staff. But the couple's real desire burns far hotter: to listen to even more music, smoke weed and write lyrics nonstop. Elton can actually afford this lifestyle, because he's well paid to work as a session man at Abbey Road Studios, hired by his beloved Tony King. Working at one of the most prestigious recording studios in the world is a godsend for Elton, who gets to build contacts and relationships, and even hears an eight-minute version of "Hey Jude" played by Paul McCartney himself. Twelve months have passed since Long John Baldry's outburst at the Bag O'Nails pub: Elton John is now immersed in music up to his neck, determined to become a great songwriter, and above all he has come to understand that he is gay.

This newfound awareness frees Elton's spirit, and during a meeting with Steve Brown of DJM he's struck by a second, even more important epiphany: it's completely pointless to try to emulate Leonard Cohen, because trying to write songs purely to sell them is the wrong approach — you should only write what you truly want to write. Like King, Brown believes in Elton's talent, and so he sets out to convince his boss Dick James to release an album. Taupin has no ambition whatsoever to become a solo artist, and would be more than happy to leave bubblegum pop behind. Elton is more than ready, but there's a bureaucratic snag: the contract with Philips calls for the release of another single, not a full album. Without wasting any more time, Steve Brown records the duo's new track, which sets to music the sad story of a mysterious woman facing the tragedy of a broken love affair. Released by Philips in January 1969, the single "Lady Samantha" opens with Caleb Quaye's bluesy guitar and, compared to their previous songs, is a revelation. The freshness of an arrangement poised between hippie and psychedelic sounds, combined with Roger Pope's drumming, is a first nugget of gold in the mud of indifference on the English scene. But not even "Lady Samantha" stirs things up. Philips decides to drop Elton from the label, while Dick James wants to enter "I've Been Loving You" in the Eurovision Song Contest. Far more practical is Steve Brown, who whisks Elton away and locks him inside the DJM studios with the instrumental wizardry of Caleb Quaye and Clive Franks. Amid psychedelic sound effects, bongos, flutes and bluesy guitar solos, Empty Sky is born, released by the newly founded DJM Records in June 1969.

Opening with the tribal percussion of its long title track, Empty Sky (1969) is like a tasty fruit that's still a bit too unripe, hastily recorded on Steve Brown's initiative with a bare-bones budget. Between late 1968 and early 1969, nobody believes in Elton John, especially after a string of flop singles for Philips. From the baroque organ of "Val-Hala" to the bluesy guitar of "Western Ford Gateway," the album is a collection of singles that still don't hang together, lacking any real musical identity. Under the supervision of tape operator Clive Franks, Empty Sky is above all a grab-bag of different genres, such as the Jethro Tull-style pastiche "Hymn 2000." The album's main problem is that Elton's compositional touch remains tethered to imitation, as in the minimal Leonard Cohen impression "Lady What's Tomorrow" or the pointlessly baroque "Skyline Pigeon." Better are the first sketched-out attempt at soul and roll ("Sails") and the mini-suite "Gulliver/Hay Chewed/Reprise," which blends progressive pop with jazz-and-roll arrangements. Not much to herald a new star, but enough to give a sense that, starting from the psychedelic rock of "Lady Samantha," there's real reason for confidence in the future.

From a commercial standpoint, Empty Sky is a flop. It sells only a few thousand copies, but it instills greater confidence for the future. When the American band Three Dog Night release a cover of "Lady Samantha" on their second album "Suitable For Framing," Elton is ecstatic: one of his songs is currently in the Top 20 on the American charts. The debut album also acts as a launchpad for new live shows, first with Hookfoot led by Caleb Quaye, and then with the new rhythm section of Nigel Olsson (drums) and Dee Murray (bass). There's no need for guitar, because Elton pounds away at the piano at breakneck speed with his new rhythm section, chasing a sound somewhere between Jerry Lee Lewis and Winifred Atwell. All at once, Elton John realizes his sound needs to bring together every major musical influence that has shaped him since childhood: the classical approach and rock 'n' roll, the pub gigs with Bluesology and Patti LaBelle. When Dick James gets a preview listen to the new songs — including a pure, crystalline melody arranged in just fifteen minutes right after breakfast at the Frome Court flat — he decides to put up a budget of six thousand pounds for a second album, despite the poor sales of Empty Sky. Elton John's new band moves into Trident Studios in Soho, under top-tier production supervision: Gus Dudgeon and Paul Buckmaster, who had already worked with David Bowie on the single "Space Oddity." The sessions go smoothly, buoyed by enthusiasm, and in just four days Elton John is born, bursting onto the British record market in spring 1970.

The stylistic gap between Elton John (1970) and the debut album is nothing short of a chasm. The pounding piano that opens the rock 'n' roll howl "The Cage" is a tear in the darkness, the artistic scar of an artist suddenly exploding onto the English scene. The lyrical sweep of "The King Must Die," driven by Elton's voice and guided by Buckmaster's orchestral arrangements, feels like a leap of faith off the edge of a sonic cliff. With a more substantial budget and recording studios worthy of the material, Elton John pulls the proverbial rabbit out of the hat, moving between heart-wrenching classical elegies ("The Greatest Discovery") and top-class pop-gospel numbers ("Border Song").

In between, a few flaws remain: the folk-blues ballad "No Shoe Strings On Louise," while a very pleasant listen, still bears the heavy imprint of bands like the Rolling Stones and The Band. Certain tracks, like "I Need You To Turn To," are still wrapped up in rather pompous baroque textures. Minor shortcomings, though, because the album manages to steer toward a new way of approaching rock 'n' roll, one that blends orchestral sweep with gospel ("Take Me To The Pilot"), and above all it hits the jackpot with one of the purest melodies ever written, "Your Song," the first true masterpiece credited to the John-Taupin partnership.

After the flop of Empty Sky, Elton John wins over the critics in spring 1970, propelled by John Peel's championing of him on BBC radio. DJM immediately organizes a European tour, though the results are disastrous: the Paris date has Elton opening for Sérgio Mendes and his Brasil '66, a completely different kind of artistic territory. The jeers of disapproval from the French audience don't discourage Elton in the slightest — he's far more focused on the presence of major figures like Pete Townshend and Jeff Beck at the London date organized by the Speakeasy Club. John is positively stunned when Dusty Springfield offers to mime along during a performance of "Border Song" on the famous Top of the Pops. The only obstacle to Elton John's rise seems to be Dick James, who from summer 1970 insists on taking the band to the United States, where the second album comes out on Uni, an MCA subsidiary. Elton and Bernie strongly disagree: they want to ride the sudden wave of success at home, and they're already working on new songs for the next record.

A Night at the Troubadour

As everyone knows, fame — especially fame that comes this suddenly — can be an empty, superficial and even dangerous thing. Its dark, seductive powers are no substitute for real love or real friendship. On the other hand, if you're a terribly shy person, desperately in need of a confidence boost — someone who spent much of his childhood trying to be invisible so as not to provoke his father's anger — I can tell you for certain that being hailed as the future of rock and roll by the LA Times, and celebrated by a string of your musical heroes, definitely does the trick

Right after the show at the Speakeasy Club, Jeff Beck invites Elton to play a few songs at his rehearsal space on the Chalk Farm estate. The former Yardbirds guitarist's agent arranges a meeting at the DJM offices, since his client wants John's new trio as the backing band for his upcoming American tour. Elton would also get a short solo slot during the various North American shows, a unique opportunity both in terms of exposure — the album "Beck-Ola" is currently huge in the States — and financially, with a guaranteed 10% cut of each night's takings. Dick James, who keeps pushing for a solo American tour instead, asks Beck's agent to raise the percentage: "I promise you this right now: within six months, Elton John will be earning far more than Jeff Beck." Stunned, Beck's agent vanishes, leaving Elton terrified he'll forever be remembered as "the guy who was going to out-earn Jeff Beck twofold." But Dick James turns out to be completely right, and he pushes Elton and Bernie to treat themselves to a "musical holiday" in the United States.

When they land in Los Angeles, Elton and his crew — including Steve Brown and new manager Ray Williams — are stunned: there's a classic red London bus bearing the words "Elton John Has Arrived" and an actual limousine waiting for them. Amid palm trees and endless boulevards, the band immediately gets a taste of the typical enthusiasm of the American record industry, upon learning that Neil Diamond himself will be opening the first shows of the US trip. In the summer of 1970, Elton John plays the first of six nights at the Troubadour in L.A., greeted by lengthy applause, dressed in a dark t-shirt and waistcoat. An outfit in keeping with the image of an introspective songwriter — fitting, if short-lived. During his first American adventure, Elton visits a shop called Mr. Freedom and finds himself thinking back to the flamboyance of his first mentor, Tony King. He decides he wants to wear yellow work boots and a t-shirt covered in stars, plus a pair of blue wings. This will be his new outfit for performing in the long-dreamed-of States.

The nights at the Troubadour are a triumph for Elton, drawing idols like Quincy Jones and, above all, Leon Russell, who proposes they go on tour together. While Uni rubs its hands with glee, a review in the LA Times reads: "Rejoice, everyone — rock music hasn't had many big shocks lately, but now there's a new star. His name is Elton John, he's English, he's 23 years old, and his debut at the Troubadour was simply magnificent." Suddenly, manager Ray Williams finds himself flooded with requests from American promoters: Elton's summer tour is extended with dates in San Francisco and New York. The songs from the latest album are all over the radio, with station KPPC even publicly thanking Elton for coming to the States. It's a staggering level of sudden fame for a chubby young man who, until just a few months earlier, was still living, shy and a virgin, at his mother's house. While Bill Graham, the famous manager of the Fillmore, wants him on the East Coast, Elton gets a phone call from John Reid, who works for EMI selecting material from Motown Records for release.

Between Elton and John, it's love at first sight. After meeting him in the US, Reid flies to London to tell Tony King about it right away at the BBC offices. "Reg? Reg is gay? Are you two going to live together, as in actually live together?" Back home, Elton immediately packs up his things to move into the new flat in Water Gardens, where at first he tries to keep a low profile about his first homosexual relationship. The last step is telling his mother Sheila, who matter-of-factly replies: "Oh, we know. Have done for quite a while, actually."

Toward the autumn of 1970, Elton John's career takes off. His first US tour was a hit with both audiences and critics, giving him a huge boost of confidence. Word of the triumphant shows at the Troubadour in Los Angeles travels back home, stirring great interest among British journalists. After hearing a couple of new songs in advance, a journalist for the music magazine Friends writes: "I believe that, together with his songwriting partner, Elton John could become the best, or almost certainly the most famous, English composer, probably in the whole world." At the dawn of the new decade, with the Beatles now finished, the moment is golden: Beatles, David Bowie, Marc Bolan, Rod Stewart and Elton John are the working-class Londoners rising toward the firmament of rock'n'roll.

A few months after moving into the new flat on Water Gardens, Elton and the band set off on a new US tour, in support of the new album Tumbleweed Connection, released at home on DJM at the end of October 1970. Produced by Gus Dudgeon after their excellent collaboration on Elton John, it's an album that comes close to perfection, the fruit of magnificent work at Trident Studios and probably one of those records many artists dream of making at least once in a lifetime. Opened by wah-wah guitar in the choral gospel-folk grandeur of "Ballad Of A Well-Known Gun," Elton John's third album is a giant leap forward from the already inspired self-titled predecessor.

Conceived by Taupin and John as a tribute to the sonic iconography of American roots rock, Tumbleweed Connection belongs to the category of rock works straddling the American dream. The baroque flourishes already heard before turn into cinematic scenes ("Come Down In Time"), ahead of the fantastic one-two punch of "Country Comfort"/"Son Of Your Father," which revisit the western tradition through rustic fiddles, sweet scales and pounding blues-and-roll hammering. That Elton is aiming at the American audience is obvious, given the success of his first tour. But "Tumbleweed" is by no means a record chasing traditional pop — if anything, it unwinds through verses and choruses in a chaotic way, letting itself drift into bass lines between psychedelic folk and powerful orchestral melodies, as in "My Father's Gun." If a working-class Londoner can produce one of the best country-western albums of recent years, the credit goes to every single one of its ten tracks, from the dying soldier of "Where To Now St. Peter?" to the saloon piano of "Amoreena." A triumphant ride all the way to the six-minute-plus symphonic sarabande "Burn Down The Mission," sweat on the keys and battered fingers. An instant classic on the third try.

At the end of 1970, after the release of Tumbleweed Connection, Elton John returns to the States, where he performs in support of artists like Leon Russell, Kinks and Eric Clapton. The seemingly reckless idea of his agent Howard Rose is to have him play as the opening act, to whet the audience's appetite and bring them back in droves. The strategy works, because the band is firing on all cylinders every single night, and more and more big names in music want to meet the new future of rock'n'roll. When he rings the doorbell at Brian Wilson's house, Elton is greeted by an "I hope you don't mind" hummed by the Beach Boys' own lider maximo in person. At a show at the Fillmore East, a certain Bob Dylan stops Bernie Taupin to compliment him after hearing the lyrics to "My Father's Gun." The time has now come to figure out how to properly break into the international market, which is why Elton decides to hire his new partner, John Reid, who leaves EMI/Motown to cross the threshold of Dick James's offices.

With 1971 underway, Elton John sets his sights firmly on world stardom. He kicks off a long tour taking in the United States, England, Japan and Australia — this time as headliner, though not above playing small venues like universities and rock clubs. "Don't be greedy" is the mantra his agent keeps repeating to keep him grounded, always. But Elton is a war machine, and 1971 is a year lived at full speed: in March comes Friends, the soundtrack to the film of the same name on the Paramount label. Directed by Lewis Gilbert to tell a teenage love story, "Friends" is scored with the softer, more soft-rock side of Elton and Bernie, starting with the gorgeous orchestral arrangement of the title track. Between a gospel-blues number ("Honey Roll") and blazing country-folk rides ("Can I Put You On"), the album is a luxury soundtrack, enriched by songs from a songwriter on the launchpad toward musical stardom.

Right after that, in April, DJM releases the first live album, 17-11-70, recorded live at A&R Studios in New York for the radio station WABC-FM. Initially, no one intends to officially release the performance, but the proliferation of bootlegs in the States makes producer Gus Dudgeon change his mind. Literally covered in blood — Elton suddenly cuts his hand in the middle of the show — the album is a true seven-note exaltation, a blazing ride worthy of the very best in the world. Side one opens with a furious "Take Me To The Pilot," which spills into a cover of "Honky Tonk Women" before the wonderful funeral elegy "Sixty Years On" gives way to the bass thunder of "Can I Put You On." On side two, the lean R&B of "Bad Side Of The Moon," but above all the nearly twenty-minute marathon "Burn Down The Mission," featuring a devastating bass performance from Dee Murray. Certainly one of the most powerful and compelling live albums of the last ten years.

Crocodile Rock

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Summer 1971. In just three days, at Trident Studios in London, the recording sessions for the new album, Madman Across The Water, are completed. It's the third record released in under twelve months, once again arranged by Paul Buckmaster, produced by the trusty Gus Dudgeon, and introducing the brilliant percussionist and multi-instrumentalist Ray Cooper. For the occasion, a new acoustic guitarist is recruited, Davey Johnstone, whom Elton wants to bring in permanently to expand his trio's sound. Dudgeon isn't convinced by the choice — he considers him incapable of playing electric — but Elton won't hear of it and decides to expand his band anyway. Opened by the grandiose orchestral soft-pop of "Tiny Dancer," Madman Across The Water departs noticeably from the roots masterpiece Tumbleweed Connection. Bernie Taupin's romantic lyrics grow more complex, sung by Elton in a far less commercial, more ballad-oriented way ("Levon"), with ever more massive arrangements from Buckmaster. The result is a record that is certainly less commercial — essentially ignored in the UK — and one that experiments with new instruments, like the accordion on "Razor Face" or the mandolin-and-sitar pairing on the country ballad "Holiday Inn." Towering above them all is the title track, originally composed with Mick Ronson on guitar, which according to some critics was conceived by Taupin as an indirect reference to US President Richard Nixon. The album's main flaw lies in an excessive repetition of the same soft-pop ballad format, recurring in "Rotten Peaches" and then in "All The Nasties," even padded out with churchy choral vocals. Good, but not quite what you'd expect from the author of the extraordinary Tumbleweed Connection.

While the latest album only really sells in the States, Elton John's crew relocates to France, to the historic setting of Château d'Hérouville, with new guitarist Davey Johnstone now in tow. It's his first session playing electric, together with the full band rather than the usual group of session musicians hired for the occasion. Reginald Dwight is now fully confident in all his abilities, having by this point officially changed his name to Elton Hercules John. The French evenings pass between bottles of wine and piano chords: Taupin brings in his new lyrics and Elton sets them to music with an almost mystical ease. In May comes Honky Château, which will be a massive hit on the US Billboard 200, certified platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). The new album opens with the irresistible New Orleans-style funky rhythm of "Honky Cat," broken up by the somewhat overlong ballad "Mellow" but immediately reinforced by the vaudeville sound of "I Think I'm Going To Kill Myself." With "Susie (Dramas)" Elton seems to simply be having fun, before unleashing his trump card, the celestial melody "Rocket Man," inspired by the pen of Ray Bradbury and by echoes of producer Gus Dudgeon's astral work with David Bowie. Between slide guitars, cosmic synthesizers and classic-ballad piano, the song lifts the album to a level probably beyond its actual worth.

Hailed by many critics as an extremely sharply focused work, Honky Château is a small masterpiece of cunning, as heard in the choral "Salvation" or on the country-blues banjo of "Slave." The compositional experimentation pays off, for instance on the electric violin of "Amy" or in the surf doo-wop of the playful "Hercules." And then there's another peak, the tear-jerking ballad "Mona Lisas And Mad Hatters," which manages to move you on first listen without any added sugar.

In 1972 Elton and John Reid move into a big house with a swimming pool in Virginia Water, Surrey, which is soon a revolving door of more or less famous faces, from Who drummer Keith Moon to Bryan Forbes, who introduces Elton to several leading figures from the world of film. The new single "Rocket Man" is riding high at the top of the British charts, triple platinum in the United States. Eltonmania has officially begun, marked by the deafening screams of thousands of teenagers at his latest live shows. Despite a clear need for rest, Elton doesn't want to put the brakes on his golden run, so he heads back to France, to the so-called Strawberry Studios at Château d'Hérouville, to record his next album right away.

Released at the start of the following year, Don't Shoot Me I'm Only The Piano Player is the first album on which Elton John is completely free to break the mould, both musically and vocally. In fact, it's a gamble he can afford to take only because it launches into the stratosphere the new fifties-flavored hit "Crocodile Rock," driven by its irresistible Farfisa organ celebrating the nostalgic rebellion of pop and rock'n'roll adolescence. The album is a constellation of new attempts for Elton, from the intimate adult-rock classicism of "High Flying Bird" to the country-folk ditty "Texan Love Song".

Despite Buckmaster's unusually tireless work — above all, the cinematic soul fanfare "Have Mercy On the Criminal" — the record doesn't always hit the mark. The opening "Daniel" and "Blues For My Baby And Me" veer close to syrupy, while when the tempo picks up — the electric pounding of "Elderberry Wine" and especially the orchestral rock'n'roll of "Midnight Creeper" — things slide toward far more successful territory. What remains is Elton John's smart move of pressing down on the accelerator of sonic innovation, so as to avoid getting stuck in his own clichés and catapult himself toward the Olympus of UK-made rock.

No sooner are the recordings for the new album finished than Elton is straight back on tour, pushing the machine ever further toward the outrageous. For this purpose, costume designers Bill Whitten and Bob Mackie are brought on board, with the specific task of making everything gaudier, more grandiose, more colorful. John also recruits Larry "Legs" Smith, normally the drummer for the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, as a tap dancer for the occasion, accompanied onstage by two dwarves in marine uniforms under a shower of colored confetti. The 1973 shows are a sheer scenic exaggeration, featuring queens, superheroes, famous porn stars, and that Twentieth-Century Fox theme that accompanies Elton to his piano. The pianist's eccentricity, and his ever-changing array of eyeglasses, doesn't entirely sit well with his partner Bernie Taupin and part of the band, who are convinced that all this showmanship risks drawing attention away from the music and, above all, from the lyrics.

After a first failed attempt at recording at Dynamic Sounds Studios in Kingston, Jamaica, the crew relocates once again to Château d'Hérouville, where inspiration flows unstoppably. Nearly eighty minutes of new music are recorded for what will become the double album that places the crown on Elton's head, selling around 30 million copies worldwide. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road is released by DJM in October 1973 and conquers the world with a stunning seventeen tracks spanning nearly 80 minutes in total.

It opens with the distorted ARP synthesizer of the funeral progressive-pop marathon "Funeral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding", bursting into heavy electric guitar riffs and swirling bass. Elton John's compositional creativity is in a state of absolute grace, as both the aching power ballad "Candle In The Wind" and the pounding honky-tonk of "Bennie And The Jets" are blows of inestimable value on the pop-rock landscape of the 70s.

Opened by the aching falsetto star-pop of the title track, the second side places two ballads, "This Song Has No Title" and "I've Seen That Movie Too", which slip by undisturbed between bucolic atmospheres and desperate jazz-club moods. Elton slows down and raises the pitch with extreme naturalness, then hits the accelerator on the Afro-Caribbean divertissement "Jamaica Jerk-Off" and above all on the acrobatic rock operetta "Grey Seal".

The second half of the record, introduced by the Parisian romanticism of "Sweet Painted Lady", is a small masterpiece of glam-pop eclecticism: solemn on the unsettling, perfectly honky-orchestral rhythm of "The Ballad Of Danny Bailey (1909-34)", then rough-edged – the guitar riff of "Dirty Little Girl" recalls the most lascivious Lou Reed – and finally unleashed on the rock 'n' roll fanfare of "All The Girls Love Alice" or the circus-surf of "Your Sister Can't Twist (But She Can Rock'n'Roll)".

The finale is fireworks, in keeping with Elton's grandiose live shows: "Social Disease" explodes amid raucous country-bluegrass rhythms and soul horns, while "Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting)" rightfully ranks among the loudest glam thunderclaps heard in the early 70s. A standing ovation, with no room for doubt.

Captain Fantastic

One night we were finishing up a recording session, when I walked into a back room of the studio and noticed John fiddling with something on a table. He had a tray and some white powder. I asked what it was and he told me it was cocaine. I asked what it did, and he said: "Oh, it just makes you feel good". So I asked if I could have some, and he said yes

By the end of 1973, after the release of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road – number one on the Billboard chart for eight consecutive weeks and a bestseller throughout 1974 – Elton John is so famous that he tours the United States aboard the Starship, the celebrated Boeing 720 used only by the biggest rock bands of the 70s. It's a golden moment: his latest album keeps racking up sales; journalists hail him as the "most important pop artist", the only one currently capable of getting Stevie Wonder to sing a simple "Happy Birthday" aboard a plane.

Despite the extravagant facade, things start to turn sour for the new superstar of pop-rock. To ride the wave of his runaway fame, DJM releases the first compilation, Lady Samantha, a collection made up of four tracks that are mostly B-sides, such as the fifties rhythm of "Rock And Roll Madonna", released as a single in 1970 during the recording of the second, self-titled album.

From the boogie-blues of "Whenever You're Ready (We'll Go Steady Again)" to the symphonic pop-rock of "Bad Side Of The Moon", the collection focuses on Elton's early career, mostly showcasing gems like the brief country stornello "Jack Rabbit" or the classic-american melody of "Into The Old Man's Shoes" from the "Tumbleweed" sessions. Closing things out, the ragged horns over the honky-tonk rhythm of "Screw You (Young Man's Blues)".

At the dawn of 1974, Elton John gathers his troupe to begin new recording sessions at Caribou Ranch, in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, Colorado. When rehearsals wrap up for the new super-ballad "Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me", Elton loses it: he threatens producer Gus Dudgeon because he absolutely does not want to include it on the upcoming album, Caribou. Opened by the catchy, foul-mouthed glam and roll of "The Bitch Is Back", the record marks a clear step back from its monumental predecessor. Elton suddenly veers toward romantic ballad territory ("Pinky") while also leaning into country and western ("Dixie Lily"), but seems content with diligent, workmanlike results, without any particular acrobatic peaks. The result is a modest record, overshadowed by the power of its predecessors, and oddly flat even on tracks that could have been new classics, like the bizarre, operatic pop of "Solar Prestige A Gammon".

Likely flattened by its arrangement and production, the record never quite takes off even on the Bolan-esque horns of "You're So Static", but is salvaged at the last minute by the very song Elton didn't want to include, which quickly rockets up the charts across half the world and goes gold in the States. "Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me" thus becomes the new instant classic fueling the English pianist's global fame.

Shortly after finishing the recording of Caribou, Elton discovers his partner John Reid in a back room, bent over a tray snorting white powder. "It makes you feel really good", he tells him. John tries his first line, but has to immediately run to the bathroom to throw it all up. Then he comes back and asks John for another hit. The cocaine sends Elton's head spinning, already quirky and outgoing enough on his own. When the Rolling Stones stop by Colorado, they ask him to perform on "Honky Tonk Women", but once on stage Elton can't stop and keeps playing with the band, clearly riding high.

Suddenly, the young Bluesology keyboardist – who used to avoid brothels to shut himself away in a record shop – becomes a member of the elite cult of cocaine users, at the very heart of the Seventies and above all at the heart of Californian rock stardom. An explosive combination, one that turns Elton John's psyche into a mix of recklessness, overconfidence and obsessiveness. John Reid's constant sexual escapades enrage him, as does his aggressiveness when he's high on cocaine. Incidents at parties multiply, as do physical punishments dealt out to journalists accused of prying too much. Then, one night, disaster strikes: John Reid violently punches Elton in the face, after a fight sparked by his constant infidelities. The end of a troubled love story.

In mid-1974 – when the first Greatest Hits is released and immediately shoots to number one on the UK and US charts – Elton John meets ex-Beatle John Lennon while dancing with Tony King at the Capitol Records offices in Hollywood. An immediate, deep bond sparks between the two artists, and not just because Lennon happens to be dancing with a manager dressed as Queen Elizabeth II. Lennon has recently split from Yoko, having moved to Los Angeles with May Pang, and spends a great deal of time in Elton's company. While passing through New York, in a suite at the Pierre Hotel on Fifth Avenue, Lennon plays him his new track, "Whatever Gets You Thru The Night", asking for an honest opinion. Elton isn't convinced at all – he doesn't think it will ever become a hit – but Lennon disagrees and places his personal bet: the song will climb the charts, and if it does, Lennon will have to join him on stage. A genuine event, given that the man from Liverpool has performed live only a couple of times since the Beatles broke up.

Included on the album “Walls And Bridges,” “Whatever Gets You Thru The Night” tears up the charts and makes Lennon regret taking Elton's bet. During the Thanksgiving Concert of 1974 at Madison Square Garden in New York, Elton John introduces the audience to John Lennon's return to the stage, greeted by an ovation louder than anything heard before. The band naturally launches into the new single, before moving into the eagerly awaited Beatles repertoire with “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” and “I Saw Her Standing There.” At the end, Lennon addresses the crowd: “I'd like to thank Elton and the boys for tonight. We tried to think of a number to finish off with so we could do a quick exit, and we thought we'd do a number of an old estranged fiance of mine called Paul. This is a song we never ever done, it's an old Beatles number and we just about know it.” No one imagines that this evening will be his last live appearance.

In the summer of 1974, Elton and the band return to Caribou Ranch studios in Colorado to record the ten tracks of the new album in exact running order. Two singles are initially pulled from Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy: the cover of “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” with John Lennon, and the magnificent, convoluted funk-soul of “Philadelphia Freedom,” one of the few times Elton commissioned a song specifically from Taupin's pen. And it's precisely to the creative relationship between the pianist (Captain Fantastic) and his lyricist (Brown Dirt Cowboy) that the whole record is dedicated, a sort of concept album that tells, in music and words, the countless struggles the duo faced on their way to the explosion of eltonmania. The album should indeed be listened to strictly in sequence, since it's conceived to tell a story through music, starting with the title track, a delightful folk ditty that introduces the characters.

Unlike the previous Caribou — which tried to ride the wave of worldwide success with deliberately accessible, romantic songs — “Captain Fantastic” sets out first and foremost to tell a story, caring nothing for the rules of the music industry. With the Beach-Boys-style elegy “Someone Saved My Life Tonight,” the album dwells on the sham relationship with Linda, recalling when Long John Baldry saved Elton's life by urging him to accept his homosexuality. A spectacular track running over six minutes that didn't sound remotely like what radio stations were after in a new hit.

From the sturdy pop-rock of “Tower Of Babel” to the operetta-like swagger of “Bitter Fingers,” the record is something entirely new in Elton John's catalogue, a mix of styles and arrangements that mirrors the intricate, Bosch-like psychedelic artwork. The listen is therefore more demanding than expected, yet the album still shifts nearly 1.5 million copies in just four days from release. Standout moments include the orchestral funk of “Tell Me When The Whistle Blows,” followed by the raucous rock and roll of “(Gotta Get A) Meal Ticket” and the unsettling “Better Off Dead.”

With Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy, Elton delivers his third masterpiece, capped off by the monumental psych-ballad “We All Fall In Love Sometimes” and, above all, the triumphant march of “Curtains.” It's no accident that, many years later, Rolling Stone magazine would place it at number 158 on its list of the 500 greatest albums of all time.

After the release of “Philadelphia Freedom” and the “Captain Fantastic” album, Elton John dominates 1975. His music is everywhere — on the radio, on TV, everywhere. But an unexpected decision follows: letting go of the superb bassist Dee Murray along with drummer Nigel Olsson. It isn't personal — Elton wants to steer his sound in a new direction, toward harder, funkier rhythms. It's a genuine shake-up for the band, with the return of Caleb Quaye (guitar) and Roger Pope (drums), joined by Americans James Newton Howard and Kenny Passarelli on keyboards and bass respectively.

Elton takes the new band to rehearse in Amsterdam, but behaviourally it's an immediate disaster: the drugs flow freely. One night, Elton swallows twelve Valium pills before falling asleep and comes close to never waking up again. His life, fame notwithstanding, is a harrowing mess.

A Single Man

At that point, the British press seemed less interested in what was going on in my sex life than in what was going on in my head

The new Elton John lineup makes its first appearance on 21 June 1975, at Wembley Stadium in London. The Midsummer Music festival also features, among others, Eagles and Beach Boys. Elton takes the stage right after the legendary surf-pop group and decides to play the new album, released just a couple of weeks earlier, in its entirety. There's no hope of winning over the crowd after the Californian hits, and he watches in horror as the Wembley audience drifts away during his set. The bold choice to play “Captain Fantastic” in full doesn't pay off live, because people simply want to hear “Crocodile Rock.”

In the summer, Elton decides to spend more and more time in the States, buying a colonial-style villa on Tower Grove Drive in Los Angeles. The Californian metropolis is by now the nerve centre of the global music industry, the perfect place to throw increasingly wild parties fuelled by sex and cocaine. From 20 to 26 October, Elton John Week is organised, announced by L.A. mayor Tom Watson and culminating in his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, in front of the famous Chinese Theatre. The band plays two dates at Dodger Stadium, in front of more than 100,000 spectators in total. No one had managed that since the Beatles' last concert in 1966.

Beyond the Wembley flop, Elton's fame in America knows no bounds, amid rivers of alcohol and increasingly flashy, raucous parties, like the one thrown on John Reid's yacht to launch the new album, Rock Of The Westies. Opening with a rhythm halfway between funk and hard rock, the medley “Yell Help/Wednesday Night/Ugly” introduces a new sound following the overhaul of the band at Elton's own insistence. The departure of the powerful rhythm section of Dee Murray and Nigel Olsson, however, leaves a sonic void, slowing the beat down considerably, as on the mellow “Dan Dare (Pilot Of The Future).”

Musically, Rock Of The Westies keeps up the same balance between aggression and tenderness, from the pop ballad “I Feel Like A Bullet (In The Gun Of Robert Ford)” to the gringo-rock of “Grown Some Funk Of Your Own.” The standout track of the bunch is “Street Kids,” a blend of Southern riffs and Rolling Stones-style woo-woos, followed by the electric boogie of “Hard Luck Story,” featuring excellent percussion work from Ray Cooper.

Capped off by the Bo-Diddley-style groove of “Billy Bones And The White Bird,” Rock Of The Westies ultimately proves a more vibrant record than expected, even danceable, as on the Jamaican R&B of “Island Girl.”

Needless to say, Rock Of The Westies shoots to the top of the US charts within a few weeks. Elton John is the kind of global pop star who invites his family to his Los Angeles villa, only to pop a handful of Valium pills and throw himself, fully dressed, dead weight into the pool. The kind of global pop star still desperate for affection and attention from loved ones who, deep down, don't really understand him. To avoid having his stomach pumped, he throws up everything he's swallowed. “I'm fine now, I've got those two shows to do.” Less than twenty-four hours later he's on the stage at Dodger Stadium, where no rock artist had set foot since the days of the Beatles.

Both shows are an absolute triumph: Elton takes the stage in a home team jersey, brandishing a baseball bat and going wild for over three hours in front of a literally frenzied crowd. Thinner, drenched in sweat and in an adrenaline-fuelled trance, Elton pours out every last drop of physical and mental energy, as on the furious version of "Pinball Wizard" by the Who. It's one of those classic switch moments, when a globally famous artist realises he's exhausted, burnt out, and his private life is in pieces. Even if the new hit "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" with Kiki Dee sounds like a joyful nod to the Motown style, Elton John has reached a limit that's hard to push past.

1976 opens with a world tour that sells out every single date. At the end of April comes the second live album, Here And There, which draws nine tracks from the shows at London's Royal Festival Hall and New York's Madison Square Garden, staged at the end of 1974 to promote the album Caribou. From the old "Skyline Pigeon" to the mega-classics "Rocket Man" and "Crocodile Rock", the released material suffers from poor sonic impact, coming across as far flatter than the actual live show. Nothing like the rhythmic devastation of "17-11-70" - more a kind of greatest hits set that sounds like it came from an artist growing ever more tired.

It's precisely during breaks in the '76 tour that a new double album takes shape, released in October under the title Blue Moves. The record unsettles music journalists, who turn their noses up at a length that (this time) feels excessive, caused mainly by a glut of arrangements somewhere between orchestral and chamber music. The new ballad "Tonight" is indeed stuffed with cinematic textures, while the soft, hushed "Chameleon" and "Someone's Final Song" seem to betray a clear compositional fatigue after years lived at well over a hundred miles an hour. And yet Elton John delivers almost 90 minutes of new music, filling Blue Moves with interesting tracks like the boogie-blues "Boogie Pilgrim", which however are stretched out needlessly until they become almost tedious.

Even though Elton himself calls it one of his best albums, Blue Moves lacks the usual bite, as on the limp folk ditty "Cage The Songbird" or on the sluggish funk-soul numbers "Crazy Water" and "Shoulder Holster". We're only at the end of side one and the listener is already out of breath, but Elton pulls the classic rabbit out of the hat, like those strikers who hide for 50 minutes before gifting the crowd a bicycle kick: "Sorry Seems To Be the Hardest Word" is the new tear-jerking hit-ballad that will push an unnecessarily long record to platinum status in the States, selling over a million copies. Then comes the unthinkable, on an otherwise wholly nonsensical record: the instrumental prog detour "Out Of The Blue", with excellent work from bass, drums and percussion.

The album's third side is actually better constructed, since "Between Seventeen And Twenty" is an oddball country number pulled off beautifully, while "The Wide Eyed And Laughing" blends raga rhythms with classic Californian vocal harmonies. It's a genuine rollercoaster, which toward the end moves from the churchy choir of "Where's The Shoorah?" to ride the Spectoresque groove of "If There's A God In Heaven (What's He Waiting For?)" before closing out on the wild rock-blues of "Bite Your Lip (Get Up And Dance!)".

In short, the score for Blue Moves comes from averaging its two records: five for the first side, flabby and overlong; seven for the second, far more original and inspired. Rounding up, because Elton always manages to find his footing, no matter how gruelling the touring gets.

The tour and the album leave Elton in a terrible psycho-physical state, while Bernie Taupin is drowning in alcohol and drugs after separating from his wife Maxine. Amid splitting headaches and epileptic seizures, he delivers the most drastic news to the band: everyone will keep getting paid, but there will be no more shows for the foreseeable future. And there's more: in a candid interview with Cliff Jahr for Rolling Stone, Elton speaks publicly for the first time about his "ambiguous" sexuality, setting off panic in the offices of his American record label. In response, several US radio stations decide to pull his songs from rotation, while in the more tolerant England the only fallout is the cancellation of a contest to win a copy of Blue Moves. Elton couldn't care less - his only concern is staring at himself in the mirror every morning, wrecked and increasingly bald. He flies to Paris for a hair transplant, almost hoping to find new life in a lion's mane. The operation fails, sending paparazzi worldwide scrambling for a shot of Elton without one of his absurd hats.

In the spring of 1976, back home, he meets Jim Bonser, chairman of Watford FC, who offers him full ownership of the club's shares after a period of severe financial hardship. John Reid is furious, well aware of how financially brutal running a football club can be, but Elton (as usual) won't hear of backing out, and accepts. There's something vaguely cathartic about Elton's decision. At this particular point in his life, he needs to get away from celebrity and flights on the Starship, to travel with footballers instead and cheer in the stands alongside thousands of fans from every walk of life. "There was no more bullshit," he would write years later. "When you reach a certain level of success in the music industry, you realise that so many people around you do nothing but tell you what you want to hear. No one wants to worry you, but at Watford it wasn't like that. The staff, the players, everyone was respectful and friendly, barely interested in massaging my ego."

At the start of autumn, following the release of the new Greatest Hits Vol. II, Elton John is a global pop star living off-stage amid exotic trinkets and luxury cars at his new English residence, Woodside. One Sunday morning, still in bed watching TV, he sees some strange orange-haired character going after Rod Stewart, calling him an "old fart". The emergence on the British scene of Sex Pistols frontman Johnny Rotten doesn't rattle an old rock'n'roll lover like Elton John in the slightest - if anything, he relives a sonic and generational war almost twenty years on. It is, in fact, a sign of change, one that leads him to end his long partnership with Dick James and his label DJM. The record boss won't survive the blow, suffering a fatal heart attack a few years later. But the revolution doesn't stop there, because right afterwards John and Taupin decide to temporarily dissolve their songwriting partnership.

During 1977, at the height of punk fury, Elton John decides to part ways with his essential songwriter, who throws in his lot with Alice Cooper, taking both former bassist Dee Murray and guitarist Davey Johnstone with him. When the album "From The Inside" comes out, Elton is overcome with a deep sense of unease, bordering on jealousy. But the die is cast: Gary Osborne, already at work on Kiki Dee's hit "Amoureuse", becomes his new partner, one who upends the usual songwriting process, writing the music first and the lyrics after. Elton thus discovers more experimental ways of recording, working in Seattle with new producer Thom Bell, a devotee of the Philly sound. After Taupin, Gus Dudgeon also exits the picture, because the wind is blowing toward new sonic shores, from a collaboration with "Jesus Christ Superstar" composer Tim Rice to increasingly frequent visits to New York's Studio 54, where the disco music phenomenon is exploding.

The first result of this new direction is A Single Man, released in autumn 1978 on his own English label, Rocket. The album falls short of expectations, since it's simply obvious that Osborne's lyrics are nowhere near a match for Taupin's. The opening ballad "Shine On Through" retreads old formulas, followed by the oddball Tex-Mex groove of "Return To Paradise". Elton may be freer to experiment - though frankly the rock'n'roll of "I Don't Care" sounds more or less like everything else - but the record comes across as forgettable, caught between the jazzy number "Big Dipper" and the synthesised, danceable grooves of "Part-Time Love" and "Madness".

A Single Man still manages to stir real emotion at times, as on the excellent soul-blues "It Ain't Gonna Be Easy" or the gospel-tinged "Georgia". Then, as always, comes the touch of a timeless virtuoso, able to turn even a middling album into a bestseller: "Song For Guy" was written by Elton himself in memory of a young Rocket employee who died tragically in a motorcycle accident. The piano melody is heart-wrenching, wrapped in stardust effects and reduced to a mere whisper by the end. Bravo.

Philly sound, Studio 54 and other stories

I followed him into his room. He opened the door to reveal a scene of total devastation. There wasn't a single piece of furniture left intact, except the bed. Everything else was overturned, or in pieces. Among the debris was a cowboy hat that Bob (Halley, Elton's assistant, ed.) often wore. It was completely flattened, like Yosemite Sam's after Bugs Bunny drops an anvil on his head. 'Jesus,' I said, 'what happened?' There was a long pause. Elton, finally, said: 'You happened.'

Around the summer of 1979, the EP The Thom Bell Sessions is released, the fruit of a recording session at Seattle's Kaye-Smith Studios with producer Thom Bell, who had already worked with groups like The Stylistics, Delfonics and The Spinners. Bell is a devotee of the so-called Philadelphia Sound, which Elton had already dabbled in on "Philadelphia Freedom" back in the "Captain Fantastic" era. Thom advises him to lower his vocal register for a warmer tone, but despite the promising start, the artistic relationship between the two sours fairly quickly. That's why the first version of The Thom Bell Sessions contains only three tracks, including the excellent orchestral funk-soul of "Are You Ready For Love". The single that climbs the Billboard Hot 100, though, is the more upbeat and cinematic "Mama Can't Buy You Love".

In a period of great artistic and personal change, Elton John feels the time has come to betray his own vow to quit performing live. Being the chairman of a football club certainly brings its own satisfactions, but between sporadic charity shows and the odd gig paid for by Elvis Costello's Stiff Records, the urge to get back on stage simply can't be ignored. So he comes up with a compromise that feels like a stroke of genius: he'll return to the stage only alongside multi-instrumentalist Ray Cooper, playing smaller venues like theatres rather than facing the usual oceanic crowds in stadiums around the world. Even the countries involved are different from the norm, ranging from Spain to Israel. Until, finally, a flight takes off from Heathrow Airport, bound for Moscow. It's an almost impossible event: a rock concert by a gay artist in communist Russia. But Moscow is set to host the 1980 Olympics, so there's a need to modernize its image, and one of the world's best-known pop-rock artists fits the bill perfectly. After yet another night of excess fuelled by cocaine and vodka, Elton takes the stage in front of the party's top brass seated in the front rows. Dubbed the "Jimi Hendrix of percussion," Ray Cooper is on fire, and so is Elton when he launches into "Back In The USSR," a song the authorities had advised against playing before the show. The ordinary people, relegated to the back of the hall, erupt with joy and rush toward the stage, much to the irritated disbelief of the communist leadership.

The triumphant Moscow show rekindles Elton John's desire to return to live performing, even as his personal life continues down the road to self-destruction. Sales of his records show no sign of slowing, despite the commercial flop of his latest release, Victim Of Love, out on Rocket in October 1979. The album is a total disaster, by far his worst outing on record since the late Sixties. The exhausting length of the pointless cover of "Johnny B. Goode" is simply baffling, especially set against a dancefloor context represented by tracks like "Thunder In The Night" or "Spotlight," stuffed with synthesized funk rhythms. Elton's experiment with the Studio 54 swagger — and with songs co-written by Pete Bellotte, longtime collaborator of Giorgio Moroder and Donna Summer — is nothing short of a failure, perhaps redeemed only by the bassline on "Warm Love In A Cold World."

Probably well aware of the mistake he'd made, Elton reunites with Bernie Taupin on the following 21 At 33, released in May 1980, with the partial return of longtime band members Dee Murray and Nigel Olsson. The title alone is a statement of power, underlining how, at just 33 years old, Elton has already reached his 21st album. And the opener "Chasing The Crown" immediately signals a drastic abandonment of disco-funk sounds, with a return to his trademark colorful pop and roll.

Despite Taupin's return, the collaboration with Gary Osborne isn't over yet, though it yields only the limp power-ballad "Little Jeannie." From the orchestral arrangements of "Sartorial Eloquence" to the feisty "Two Rooms At The End Of The World," the album is certainly a step forward after Victim Of Love, even if it fails to bring anything genuinely new to Elton John's artistic path.

21 At 33 comes close to going platinum in the United States, paving the way for a new world tour following his rebirth in Russia. Murray and Olsson are brought back into the band, while Elton plans new costumes to reclaim the spotlight on stages around the globe. In September 1980 the new band performs in front of half a million people at Central Park in New York, with Elton dressed as Donald Duck for the encore. The costume is so unwieldy that there are fears the crowd might leave before he returns to the stage, but the show is a triumph, closing with a cover of "Imagine" dedicated to his friend John Lennon. A few months later, the former Beatle is murdered in New York, leaving Elton in a state of deep distress. Yoko Ono will urgently invite him back to the Big Apple to ask him to finish her partner's final recordings, but she'll receive only a flat refusal.

In May 1981 comes the follow-up, The Fox, produced with Chris Thomas, his first release in the States on the Geffen label. The album revives Elton John's compositional ambitions thanks to the return of trusted collaborators Taupin, Olsson and Murray. From the sturdy soft-rock of "Breaking Down The Barriers" to the midtempo blues of "Heart In The Right Place," The Fox is a more lucid work than its predecessors, at the very least played and arranged with the right attitude. The Springsteen-esque pop-rock of "Just Like Belgium" hits the right groove, followed by the choral "Fascist Faces" and the cinematic overture "Carla Étude – Fanfare – Chloe." There are certainly several tracks that sound rather dated, like the gospel and roll of "Heels Of The Wind" or the usual ballads "Elton's Song" and "The Fox," but the album is focused enough after his recent compositional missteps.

Increasingly fuelled by alcohol and cocaine, the English artist can no longer keep himself in check. Not even twelve months later comes Jump Up!, a record as completely out of sync as its author. The disco-rock of "I Am Your Robot" is probably among the worst songs ever recorded, paired with the absurd country-pop of "Ball & Chain." Two tracks at opposite extremes that make no sense whatsoever, propped up (perhaps) only by the rhythmic soul of "Spiteful Child" and the jazzy "Blue Eyes," which alone justifies the half a million copies sold in the States.

June 1983. Elton John, locked in a constant battle against alcohol and cocaine addiction, flies to Cannes, where the video shoot for the new single "I'm Still Standing" is scheduled. After several years of commercial flops, it's time to turn sales around, with Taupin brought back full-time for the album Too Low For Zero. The new record is conceived at George Martin's studios in Montserrat, under the supervision of Chris Thomas. But also "supervising" is the new Geffen Records, which desperately needs hits in the States and has had no luck so far with a decorated artist going through a difficult stretch in his career. During the video shoot in France, Elton pulls another of his stunts, after several lines of cocaine: he strips off all his clothes and starts rolling around naked on the floor, under the disgusted gaze of John Reid. Right at that moment, the former manager and lover takes a punch to the face — the very first act of violence in Elton John's life.

It's an almost cathartic moment amid a swift descent into the abyss of drug addiction: Too Low For Zero is an album full of intent, as Elton sings the danceable pop of "I'm Still Standing" under the Cannes sun. Thanks to the reunion with his old bandmates, tracks like "Cold As Christmas (In The Middle Of The Year)" and "I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues" sound as if they came straight out of the Yellow Brick Road sessions, followed by the bluesy rock of "Religion."

Even though the sound is at times overly plastic — the rock and roll of "Whipping Boy" — Too Low For Zero is at least a well-considered record, focused on a renewed compositional freshness, as in the elegy "One More Arrow," which recalls the glories of days gone by.

Broken Heart

It's worth pointing out that Renate didn't simply marry a gay drug addict. That's bad enough on its own. But she married a gay drug addict whose life was about to spiral out of control, in ways she'd never before thought possible

After the release of Too Low For Zero, Elton spends the rest of the year traveling, heading to Africa with his friend Rod Stewart. Back in England, his father urgently needs a quadruple coronary bypass for a serious heart condition. Long estranged from his father figure, Elton offers to cover all the costs of a private clinic, only to receive a sad and predictable refusal. By the end of 1983 it's time to return to Montserrat, following the huge success of his latest album. The plan is already set: repeat the formula, with Bernie Taupin fixed on lyrics, the old band back together, and Chris Thomas once again in the producer's chair.

Breaking Hearts is really almost a desperate attempt to resurrect the old mid-Seventies sound, and it only half succeeds, considering the rest of his output in the Eighties on the American Geffen label. Even though the band tries to recapture the past — "L'il 'Frigerator" sounds like the little sister of "Your Sister Can't Twist (But She Can Rock'n'Roll)" — there are tracks like "In Neon" or the tribal "Passengers" that ultimately place Elton among adult contemporary rockers like Phil Collins or Lionel Richie. Then, as is customary, the vibrant pop-rock of "Sad Songs (Say So Much)" saves the day, though the return of the classic lineup had promised something more.

Based in New York, Elton tells his friend Tony King about his upcoming marriage to Renate Blauel, a German-born artist and musician who had already worked as a sound engineer during the recording of Too Low For Zero. Tony is understandably stunned, unable to grasp why on earth he'd want to marry a woman. As he eats breakfast on vodka and orange juice, Elton is devastated, desperately in need of affection, and convinces himself that his bond with the young Renate might truly be genuine. The decision is made in no time: the two marry in Sydney in February 1984.

In July, he's back on the gigantic stage of the mega charity event Live Aid at Wembley Stadium, where Elton shows up in his usual flashy jacket with a Russian tsar's hat. The notes of “Rocket Man” are met with an overwhelming ovation, underlining just how much his 70s repertoire remains the most beloved.

When the new album Ice On Fire comes out in November, it's by now clear that Elton John's repertoire has veered decisively towards radio-friendly adult contemporary rock, as shown by the new hit “Nikita”. Despite the return of longtime producer Gus Dudgeon, the tracks on Ice On Fire are weak, like the soft ballad “Cry To Heaven” and the saccharine eighties sound of “Too Young”, featuring special guest John Deacon on bass. Better is the disco-funk of “Wrap Her Up” with backing vocals from George Michael, but both the synthesized pop of “Tell Me What The Papers Say” and yet another piano elegy, “Shoot Down The Moon”, have the taste of reheated leftovers that the ears struggle to digest.

Constantly touring between the United States and Australia, Elton begins to notice some problems with his vocal range. The effects of his cocaine abuse are increasingly visible, particularly on the new album Leather Jackets, released in October 1986, again under the guidance of the reinstated Gus Dudgeon. Trapped in a marriage of convenience of his own making, wrecked by alcohol and drugs, his throat in tatters, Elton John starts snorting even during recording sessions. It's no surprise that years later he himself would describe the new album as the “worst thing I've ever made in my life.” From the bouncy bass-and-keyboard pairing of the title track onward, this latest effort is dreadful, deserving to be completely forgotten in its entirety. From the languid “Hoop Of Fire” to the duet with Cliff Richard, “Slow River”, Leather Jackets is a slapdash record utterly devoid of ideas.

To banish his latest album into sonic oblivion, Elton John decides that the next tour will be among the most grandiose and spectacular yet. At the Sydney date, on 14 December 1986, he takes the stage dressed as Mozart, fronting a glam-rock band with the symphonic backing of the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. The set is recorded live and released the following year under the title Live In Australia With The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. Great classics like “Tiny Dancer”, “Take Me To The Pilot” and “Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me” are thus reinterpreted with a nearly 90-piece ensemble of horns, strings and choirs. The approach is fairly unprecedented in the rock world and works well, with the Australian orchestra perfectly attuned to Elton's compositional world. The main problem is that his throat is in increasing danger, despite numerous attempts involving honey and scalding-hot water.

Once the concert is over, medical advice is urgently needed, but the diagnosis isn't the best: cysts on the vocal cords. There's a risk that Elton might never be able to make a sound again. The doctor immediately orders him to stop the tour, but that's out of the question, both for financial reasons and out of fear of never being able to get on a stage again. The show must go on. Only at the end of the tour is the operation carried out, in Australia itself. Fortunately, everything goes smoothly and the cysts are removed. His voice changes, becoming deeper and no longer able to work in falsetto.

“Elton in Vice Boys Scandal”. That's the headline of a gossip article published in the Sun in February 1987. Elton John is stunned and can't believe his eyes, depicted as caught up in a homosexual orgy dressed as Cleopatra. Hardly known for its progressive stance, the Sun drops the bombshell and sends everyone into turmoil: another article claims he allegedly paid some boys to urinate on him. There's even the publication of a photo supposedly showing him performing oral sex on one of his “vice boys”. Elton files as many as 17 defamation lawsuits over a period of several months, leading the Sun to offer a settlement of one million pounds, complete with an apology headline. Some call it a victory that would forever change English journalism, but shortly after, the Daily Mirror publishes another article accusing Elton of chewing his food and then spitting it out. Another 850,000 pounds earned and donated to charity. All this media turmoil leads, in early 1988, to his divorce from Renate, the end of a marriage doomed to fail but full of genuine mutual affection.

In June, the new album Reg Strikes Back comes out, originally released only on the Mca label, marking the return of producer Chris Thomas after the interlude with Gus Dudgeon. The cover features a ton of kitschy junk salvaged from his latest move, into an apartment in West London.

Two years after the dreadful Leather Jackets, following his vocal cord surgery, Elton John partly bounces back. On one hand, there's the robust rock'n'roll of “Goodbye Marlon Brando” and the catchy gypsy rhythm of “Town Of Plenty”, featuring Pete Townshend on guitar. On the other, there's the usual soft-rock of “A Word In Spanish” or the garish synth-pop of “Poor Cow”. In between, episodes of varying inspiration, like the exotic rhythm of “Heavy Traffic”. In the end, the title is far more bombastic than the album itself.

At the end of 1988, Elton returns to the studio, specifically to the freezing rooms of Puk Studios, in Randers, Denmark. To escape the press and try to record without using cocaine, the icy Jutland peninsula seems like the ideal place. Amid boozy parties in crowded Danish pubs, the new Sleeping With The Past satisfies Elton, who banks on the new pop-R&B single “Healing Hands” to break through once again on the charts and radio airwaves. The album marks a shift towards more soul-inflected rhythms, following in the footsteps of past idols like Sam Cooke, Otis Redding and Marvin Gaye.

With a less explosive vocal range, “Club At The End Of The Street” is the track that best represents the new R&B direction, using a Roland RD-1000 rather than the classic acoustic piano. The direction is the right one, because soul fanfares like the title track hit the mark, as does the excellent whispered blues midtempo “Stone's Throw From Hurtin'”. Despite Elton's intentions, the album's hit turns out to be the ballad “Sacrifice”, among the absolute icons of 80s playlists. Giving a sense of just how successful Sleeping With The Past can be considered, even a B-side like “Love Is A Cannibal” – included on the soundtrack of the hugely anticipated “Ghostbusters II” – is a delight with its frenetic mix of pop, R&B and digital piano. A creative rediscovery, coincidentally, following his newfound sobriety.

Rehab

I had no idea how to go on living, but I didn't want to die

At the end of 1989, Elton John returns to Atlanta, where his new boyfriend Hugh Williams is waiting for him. Tired of his dependency on alcohol and drugs, Williams tells him he's going to check himself into rehab at the well-known Sierra Tucson centre, where Ringo Starr had already gone to quit drinking. Elton reacts furiously: Hugh's problem is obviously also his own problem. The very same problem that recently led him to scream at a supposed gardener during a party in California, only to later discover that the gardener was actually Bob Dylan. Completely out of his mind, he takes a flight to London, where he shuts himself in his house for two straight weeks, drinking whisky, watching porn and snorting cocaine. Without washing, without eating, shutting out the world. Elton John stares into the abyss one last time, because in the end he realises he can't go on like this any longer. He takes a flight to join Hugh in therapy, and finds himself face to face with his doctor too: “I need help, I want to get better”, he confides, in desperate tears.

While Hugh is staying in a beautiful residence with a swimming pool, Elton is placed in a Chicago hospital, the Lutheran, because it's one of the very few centres able to treat alcohol, drug and food addiction at the same time. Under the false name George King, Elton John enters rehab on 29 July 1990, and there's immediately good news for him: his roommate, Greg, is gay and very attractive. The first week is unbearable, between constant panic attacks and the inability to communicate with the outside world, especially when the helicopter carrying Stevie Ray Vaughan crashes, and (in Elton's mind) his friend and musician Ray Cooper too. At 43 years of age, Elton discovers for the first time that he doesn't know how to do anything, not even laundry. Not even how to spend his ten dollars a day. Global fame has completely consumed him, making him live as if on another planet. On the verge of leaving several times, Elton withstands the pressure of the Alcoholics Anonymous support groups, eventually finding them cathartic. After a six-week stay, he checks out and flies to London, where he shows up at the Rocket studios to announce that there will be a total break for at least a year. Something that hadn't happened since 1965.

To fill the discographic void, Rocket decides it's time to release a monumental box set titled To Be Continued…, which Elton approves of, seeing it as his own interpretation of survival. From the single “Come Back Baby”, back when he was still called Reg Dwight and played in Bluesology, to the recent hit “Sacrifice”, the four discs are obviously a must-have for all his fans. The anthology includes several unreleased gems: “Step Into Christmas”, released as a Christmas single in 1973, featuring a fleeting cameo on the gong from Bernie Taupin before Elton proudly pulls out his Watford membership card. Then there's the romantic cover of “One Day (At A Time)”, penned by John Lennon, followed by the French ditty “Donner Pour Donner” (with France Gall) and the super ballad “The Retreat”. Closing out the marathon of over five hours of music is the dazed and gargantuan cover of “Give Peace A Chance”.

To reclaim his life, Elton moves into his boyfriend Hugh's house in Atlanta, but his newfound sobriety soon becomes a problem for them both. Once the latest love affair ends, John relocates to London, where he settles into a long stretch of quiet domestic routine, waking up early each morning to walk the dog. In his days as an ordinary person, he keeps attending alcohol and drug recovery groups, happy to be making new friends despite the gossip-column headlines. At the end of 1991, his hated father Stanley dies following heart surgery. Elton doesn't show up at the funeral. There's another death that has already troubled him far more: that of Freddie Mercury, who ascends to rock'n'roll heaven after keeping his illness hidden from the world. Elton decides to auction off his entire record collection, more than 60,000 albums and singles, to raise funds and launch the Elton John Aids Foundation.

In June 1992, it's time to return to the studio, in Paris alongside his trusted Chris Thomas. At first everything seems complicated, as Elton is convinced he can no longer produce anything without being drunk or coked up. The One is rewarded by the public — double platinum in the United States, practically his best-selling album since the distant days of "Captain Fantastic" — thanks to a sturdier, more alluring sound, in perfect American adult rock style.

Opened by the western swagger of "Simple Life", the album delivers yet another hit with the title track, a bona fide pop classic fed to radio stations the world over. Then comes the prestigious collaboration with the guitar of Eric Clapton ("Runaway Train"), while "Whitewash Country" unleashes guitars and keyboards in a well-crafted country hoedown. The usual soft approaches aren't missing either ("The North" and "When A Woman Doesn't Want You"), while the guitar of David Gilmour graces the synthetic "Understanding Women".

At the end of 1993, the success of The One is matched again with the release of Duets, a long series of collaborations helmed by various producers, including Giorgio Moroder and Don Henley. Starting with the duet with Canadian singer k.d. lang on the glossy dance-pop of "Teardrops", a cover of Womack & Womack, the album is a hodgepodge of soulless tracks, like "The Power", which squanders the participation of idol Little Richard on a flat blend of soul, gospel and pop. "Shakey Ground", with Don Henley, is just a rehash of the Eagles' sound, while the old "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" gets trampled by a techno-dance arrangement with RuPaul on backing vocals. Better, then, to look back with Bonnie Raitt on the ballad "Love Letters", or with the sacred monster Leonard Cohen on the jazzy "Born To Lose".

While the album racks up sales in the United States, Elton gets an unexpected phone call from lyricist Tim Rice, who had already been hired by the Disney giant to write the soundtrack for the new animated musical drama "The Lion King". Rice asks John to collaborate, because he doesn't want the usual Broadway-style arrangements, but a set of pop songs that will drive both adults and children wild. The advantage is that Tim works the way Bernie does, presenting Elton with finished lyrics to set to music, following a clearly defined storyline, just as had happened back in the days of "Captain Fantastic". With arrangements by super-composer Hans Zimmer, The Lion King Soundtrack achieves staggering global success, selling almost 20 million copies. The tear-jerking single "Can You Feel The Love Tonight" wins the Oscar for Best Original Song, while the album knocks the Rolling Stones' "Voodoo Lounge" off the top of the charts, sparking the fury of Keith Richards, beaten by "a fucking cartoon". Directed by Julie Taymor, the stage adaptation of "The Lion King" involves Elton John and Tim Rice writing new songs, and swiftly becomes Broadway's biggest box-office success.

Love Songs

I realized I no longer had any gay men available to me. Once I got clean from alcohol, I stopped going to that kind of place. My fear was that I'd fall back into temptation in front of a vodka Martini

After the triumph of The Lion King, Elton John's name is trending in American show business, with Disney ready to offer him a lavish contract for more films. Having moved back to London, he meets the elegant Canadian manager David Furnish, a photography enthusiast and member of the board of directors of the well-known advertising agency Ogilvy & Mather.

Thus begins a new romantic relationship, this time more discreet and sheltered from the gossip press. Rejuvenated after rehab, Elton introduces David to his mother, and even brings him along when, in January 1994, he's inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame by Axl Rose. At the end of his speech, he invites Bernie Taupin up on stage and hands him the award.

His love for David transforms Elton, who is now a clean and happy man. The subsequent Made In England — produced with Greg Penny and released in March 1995 — is in fact dedicated to David Furnish, who in the meantime has taken charge of a documentary project about his boyfriend's life, with the odd title "Tantrums And Tiaras". Opened by the cinematic "Believe", Made In England sees the return of arrangements by old friend Paul Buckmaster, allowing for a kind of sonic flashback to his 1970s work. Setting aside the more worn-out soft-rock numbers ("House" or the title track), the album indulges in the catchy, Rolling Stones-like groove of "Pain", tossing into the mix the pleasant jingle-jangle of "Please" and the sophisticated, Beatles-esque pop of "Latitude", conducted by George Martin. While "Man" climbs sturdy soul architectures, "Belfast" shines amid Ireland's lights, just before the brisk dance-pop gallop of "Lies".

In the summer of 1997, "Tantrums And Tiaras" is released, Furnish's documentary launched in the States shortly before Elton is shaken by news of the murder of Gianni Versace, his friend and favorite designer. Gianni's family asks him to sing Psalm 23 alongside Sting during the funeral service at Milan Cathedral. The bad news doesn't stop there: at the end of August, Princess Diana Spencer dies tragically in Paris after a terrible car accident.

Just two days after her death, Elton gets a phone call from Richard Branson, the Virgin boss, learning of the countless handwritten versions of "Candle In The Wind" left by grieving fans during the vigil at St. James's Palace. The proposal is simple: rewrite the song to perform it at Lady Di's funeral. Naturally, Elton calls Bernie Taupin and gets to work, strangely terrified at the prospect of singing in front of the Archbishop of Canterbury and roughly two billion people watching live on TV. The moving funeral elegy is released as a single shortly after, quickly overtaking Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" as the best-selling single of all time. The song's success is staggering, selling at an average of six copies per second across the globe, reaching number one in the States for fourteen consecutive weeks, and even staying in the Canadian top twenty for three years. Paradoxically, the biggest hit of his career will never again be performed by its own author; a huge amount of the money raised by Diana's foundation will go toward legal battles against the commercial exploitation of her image.

After the great sorrow, The Big Picture is released in September, dedicated to his friend Gianni Versace. Hated by Taupin, the album rehashes the same adult pop-ballad formula by rote, without finding the inspiration shown on the previous Made In England. Worth noting is the soulful "If The River Can Bend", as well as the new gospel-pop hit "Something About The Way You Look Tonight", which boosts sales after being released as a double A-side with "Candle In The Wind". Aside from the fanfare of "Wicked Dreams", The Big Picture proves Taupin right when he calls it "horribly cold and technical".

In the spring of 1998, Elton John sets off on tour with his friend, pianist Billy Joel, when he gets a sudden phone call from David: the two women who take care of their garden have decided to quit because they haven't been paid in over a year and a half. Elton calls John Reid for an explanation, discovering to his utter shock that there isn't a penny left in the accounts. "You spent it all," his manager tells him. But Elton can't believe it, having worked tirelessly for decades and sold out shows all over the world. Better get to the bottom of it: an auditing firm is hired to dig through the paperwork of John Reid Enterprises, uncovering a staggering £20 million hole that leads to a legal war between the former lovers, ending in a settlement of nearly £3.5 million paid by Reid to avoid further trouble. Elton is devastated by the whole affair, both psychologically and financially, and is forced to go straight back on tour to pay off the debts he's accumulated.

Following fresh friction with Taupin over the latest The Big Picture, the English artist decides to throw himself into film soundtracks, a format he had already tried with enormous success in the case of the Lion King Soundtrack. In March 1999, Elton John And Tim Rice's Aida is released, which turns out to be a hodgepodge of pop songs caught somewhere between Broadway and Disney, featuring collaborations with artists such as Sting, Tina Turner and James Taylor.

A few months later comes The Muse, the soundtrack to the eponymous comedy film starring Sharon Stone. The tracks are exclusively instrumental, aside from the title track co-written with Bernie. The run of soundtrack work continues with The Road To El Dorado, the DreamWorks animated feature released in 2000, marking both a renewed collaboration with Hans Zimmer and, above all, the repayment of a promise made to film producer Jeffrey Katzenberg after the triumph of "The Lion King".

In autumn 2000 he plays two triumphant dates at Madison Square Garden in New York, released on the live album Elton John One Night Only – The Greatest Hits. As the title suggests, it's a live best of, with special guests such as Billy Joel ("Goodbye Yellow Brick Road") and Anastacia ("Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting"). At the same time, work begins in various Los Angeles studios on the new album Songs From The West Coast, heavily influenced by the recent work of Ryan Adams, "Heartbreaker". Elton is captivated by the American artist's alternative country sound, and decides to abandon his classic pop-hit style to return to the roots of the American tradition, as he did back in the days of "Tumbleweed". Remarkably, after several attempts to recapture his old grooves, the opener "The Emperor's New Clothes" wins everyone over with delicate piano notes, surf harmonies and symphonic arrangements. With the driving soul-pop beat of "Dark Diamond", the record finally seems to flow smoothly, enriched by the folk melody of "Look Ma, No Hands" and only occasionally interrupted by routine numbers like the bland ballad "Original Sin". It's just a minor stumble, though, because "Birds" moves confidently down a blues path, while "I Want Love" is a small Beatles-esque masterpiece featuring Billy Preston's Hammond organ. While "The Wasteland" grinds out an almost hard-blues rhythm, the closing "This Train Don't Stop There Anymore" really does feel, for four and a half minutes, like a trip thirty years back in time.

The Return of Captain Fantastic

I had happiness to spare. Not just in my personal life: between the Vegas shows, Billy Elliot and the new records, I was having so much fun making music that my enthusiasm had become infectious

After the release of Songs From The West Coast, the project of returning to his roots continues with Peachtree Road, released in early 2004 and the only album produced solely by Elton John himself, at the Record Plant studios in Los Angeles. With drummer Nigel Olsson back once again, the album opens with the pop ballad "Weight Of The World", followed by the symphonic country-gospel of "Porch Swing In Tupelo". Elton finally seems to have had his fill of churning out chart-eating hits, focused instead on his new inspiration, Ryan Adams, and above all on the urge to rediscover his sonic roots. "Answer In The Sky" halves the tempo of the sublime "Philadelphia Freedom", while "Turn The Lights Out When You Leave" is a treat for fans of the most romantic western sound. It's an unexpected return to deeply felt soul ("My Elusive Drug" and "Freaks In Love"), sped up by the rock'n'roll of "They Call Her The Cat" and beautifully diverted onto the stirring piano notes of "Too Many Tears".

In March 2005, "Billy Elliot The Musical" debuts at the Victoria Palace in London, produced and scored by Elton and directed by Stephen Daldry. Immediately nominated for nine Laurence Olivier Awards, it wins four. The success is enormous, and the show tours the world, from Australia to Broadway. The single taken from it is the intimate ballad "Electricity", Elton's 63rd song to reach the Top 40 in the UK.

In the summer of 2005, Elton is invited to become a permanent fixture at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas, performing at the brand-new Colosseum. His initial instinct is to turn it down, but he changes his mind thanks to the input of photographer David LaChapelle, who will work on staging the various shows.

At the end of the year, British law is changed to allow same-sex couples to enter into civil partnerships. Elton John and David Furnish decide to marry at the end of December, a dream the English popstar had nurtured for years, finally happy after always searching in vain for the love of his life.

In autumn 2006, The Captain & The Kid is released, the sequel to "Captain Fantastic", aiming to tell the world about the events in Elton and Bernie's lives since that incredible 1975 release. The opening is nothing short of explosive, riding the sophisticated, elegant piano chords of "Postcards From Richard Nixon" and the sturdy, Rolling Stones-esque rock-blues of "Just Like Noah's Ark". After years in the doldrums, Elton's compositional flow finally returns to the level of the Seventies, set against nostalgic archive footage in the video for the pop ballad "Tinderbox".

Carefree and free of the usual adult-contemporary clichés, the John-Taupin duo have fun with the jazzy "And The House Fell Down" and the country & western architecture of "I Must Have Lost It On The Wind". Although no direct comparison with "Captain Fantastic" is possible, the record flows pleasantly, as in the lazy blues of "Old 67", and above all without any need to emulate a bygone era, as shown by the closing title track, which becomes a kind of collage of sonic memories.

At the end of 2009, Elton tracks down Leon Russell's number, in a moment of nostalgia for the years when he looked up at all the stars of music from below. "Why don't we make a record together?", Elton suggests to him. "Are you serious?" Leon replies. "Do you think I'm still up to it? I'm really old now". Like a patriarch out of a Tennessee Williams script, Russell turns up at The Village studios in Los Angeles and sits at the piano for a couple of hours. Out of that supposed prank call comes The Union, produced by T Bone Burnett and released on the Mercury label in autumn 2010. With a parade of guest stars – Marc Ribot and Booker T. Jones on the excellent, theatrical jazz-pop of "If It Wasn't For Bad"; Neil Young on the solemn gospel-blues of "Gone To Shiloh" – the album is much more than just a collaboration between old friends.

From the scorching rock'n'roll of "Hey Ahab" (with T Bone Burnett himself on electric guitar) to the soul-blues gem "Hearts Have Turned To Stone" (with Doyle Bramhall II), The Union rightfully ranks among the finest albums in Elton's entire discography, the sincere and passionate fruit of two old glories of Anglophone rock. And the alchemy created is so strong that Elton himself manages to produce a track, "Jimmie Rodgers' Dream", that wouldn't have been out of place on the tracklist of "Tumbleweed", with its sparkling country sound along the dusty trail of roots-rock.

"Monkey Suit" speeds up into a Rolling Stones-esque boogie, followed by the wild shuffle of "A Dream Come True" and the Memphis soul of "I Should Have Sent Roses", with Russell's aching voice sounding like a bottle of the finest vintage wine. "When Love Is Dying" then features the legendary Brian Wilson as backing vocalist, while "My Kind Of Hell" veers between boogie and gospel, and "Mandalay Again" is another country-pop gem worthy of the Tumbleweed sessions.

The Union is an unexpectedly fine record, one that goes straight into the ranks of Elton John's best albums. It took an old man who looked like he'd just stepped out of a Tennessee Williams play.

The Union immediately lands in the US Top 5, leading to a tour of smaller 10,000-15,000-seat venues. The collaboration revitalizes Russell's career, bringing him a deal for a series of records and induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, before he died in 2016 following a heart attack.

In December 2010, Elton and David celebrated the arrival of their first son, Zachary Jackson Levon Furnish-John, while work was underway on the next soundtrack for the new animated film Gnomeo & Juliet, produced by John's own Rocket Pictures. In 2011 a new Las Vegas show was also staged, "The Million Dollar Piano," with longtime friend Tony King contributing as creative director. The following year brought another UK chart-topper, thanks to the input of Australian dance duo Pnau.

Good Morning To The Night is an operation that borders on the sacrilegious: crafting new dance and synth-pop tracks out of old masters handed over by Elton himself, from "Philadelphia Freedom" to "Sixty Years On." The record essentially nails the spirit of the whole project: having fun and getting people dancing, with a touch of Seventies nostalgia.

After performing at the very temple of club culture, Ibiza, Elton returned to the studio in Los Angeles between late 2012 and 2013. The follow-up to the little masterpiece The Union is The Diving Board, opened by the touching ballad "Oceans Away" and once again produced by T-Bone Burnett. The album is well received by critics, who applaud the freshness with which the new fifteen tracks are crafted. Indeed, the classic pop-ballad format is modernized, almost restored, on songs like "Oscar Wilde Gets Out" and "A Town Called Jubilee."

If Elton hasn't put out a bad record since 2001, it's because he finally decided to drop his obsession with instant hits: "The Ballad Of Blind Tom" is the sophisticated legacy of his recent collaboration with Russell, followed by the harrowing mini symphonic opera "My Quicksand." The album is yet another triumph for the maestro, delivering artistically mature numbers like the bittersweet twist of "Can't Stay Alone Tonight," the gospel-blues of "Take This Dirty Water," and the superb pianistic jazz of the title track. Credit is certainly due to his new producer, who allows him to repaint his sound and drop aces like "Vojeur" or "Home Again," perfect backdrops for a genuine sonic rebirth.

After a three-year break, 2016 brought the new Wonderful Crazy Night, marking the return of percussionist Ray Cooper and longtime drummer Nigel Olsson. Recorded in under twenty days, the album was again helmed by producer T-Bone Burnett, the true architect of Elton's career revival.

Opened by the rock'n'roll of the title track, the album once again wins over critics, from the dusty blues of "In The Name Of You" to the irresistible boogie of "Looking Up." Even if it lacks the originality of his most recent work — "Blue Wonderful" falls into the stereotype of the typical Elton ballad — Wonderful Crazy Night still entertains thanks to the Harrison-esque "Guilty Pleasure" and the irreverent beat of "England And America," released as a bonus track on the deluxe edition. Certainly the least original album of this later period, a kind of autopilot ride to keep traveling down the path of global singer-songwriter craft.

Farewell Yellow Brick Road

We began planning a farewell tour. It would be the biggest and most spectacular of them all. A great celebration, a thank-you to all those people who bought albums and tickets over the years

At the start of 2017, Elton planned a gigantic farewell tour, a world tour spanning over 300 dates set to begin the following year. Unfortunately, during a routine medical check-up he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. There were two options: surgical removal or chemotherapy. The family opted for the former, allowing him to return to the stage just ten days after the operation. But the health troubles were serious, as another heart defect forced the English pop star to have a bypass fitted. After a performance in South America, he was rushed to hospital with a severe infection, ending up in intensive care less than 24 hours from an expected death. But Elton is a lucky man: eleven days later he was back home with his children, praying every night for the gift he'd been given and more convinced than ever to say goodbye to nearly 40 years of dazzling adventures on stages around the globe.

The Farewell Yellow Brick Road Tour began on September 8, 2018 in Allentown, Pennsylvania, with artistic direction by husband David and longtime friend Tony King. Dozens of immortal classics were performed non-stop amid old footage and spectacular visuals, celebrating in music and images the dazzling career of Sir Elton John.

After yet another compilation, Diamonds, the Rocketman soundtrack returned to the top of the English-language charts following the success of the biopic of the same name, starring Welsh actor Taron Egerton, who won everyone over as a singer too on tracks like "The Bitch Is Back." Elton himself loved the film, becoming executive producer of the album and singing on the new "(I'm Gonna) Love Me Again."

Meanwhile, the first leg of the Farewell Yellow Brick Road Tour, which wrapped up in March 2019, had already won the Billboard Music Award for Top Rock Tour, with revenues totaling over 120 million dollars. The outbreak of the Covid-19 pandemic halted the machine in winter 2020, leaving Elton (like billions of other people) shut in at home.

The recording journey, however, did not stop: in June 2021 came Regimental Sgt. Zippo, a lost album originally conceived as a psychedelic debut in place of Empty Sky. A total of twelve tracks salvaged from sessions recorded between 1967 and 1968, in a Beatles-esque style that was clearly not his forte at all.

Far more interesting is the new venture Lockdown Sessions (2021), conceived in the thick of the pandemic era inside a virtual recording studio with a parade of guests joining live online. Here Elton is like a magister summoning his disciples from the most disparate musical backgrounds. From English star Dua Lipa ("Cold Heart") to young Japanese model Rina Sawayama ("Chosen Family"), the lockdown sessions astonish with the sheer versatility of genres and generations brought together.

On the acidic "The Pink Phantom" we find Gorillaz and 6lack, while the brooding cover of "Nothing Else Matters" pairs the raspy voice of Miley Cyrus with Yo-Yo Ma's cello, Trujillo's bass and Chad Smith's drums. An instant supergroup that only a titan like Elton could assemble within a few weeks, and over a Facetime call at that. On the downside, the album leans too heavily into the Spotify-playlist format, but it still delivers top-notch numbers like the dance cut "Orbit" (with SG Lewis) and the crystal-clear country ballad "Simple Things" (with Brandi Carlile).

The album ultimately makes for a lovely gift to fans stuck at home because of the virus, a kind of "Supernatural" in which Elton embraces old friends – Stevie Nicks on the melancholy déjà-vu of "Stolen Car"; Stevie Wonder on the slow funk-soul of "Finish Line" – and cuts loose once again on the rock'n'roll of "E-Ticket" with Eddie Vedder.

More than forty years on from "Crocodile Rock", countless drinks and lines later, Sir Elton Hercules John is still standing. And he proves it once again in the lively collaboration with his longtime friend Brandi Carlile, with whom he co-writes the album Who Believes In Angels? (2025). It's a record that also marks a return to his roots, with tracks like "The Rose Of Laura Nyro" - a tribute to the New York singer-songwriter - taking us back to the atmosphere of the early '70s, with long interludes that spill over into moments of pure prog rock, all baroque, fluttering electric guitars. "Little Richard's Bible", on the other hand, lights up the record with hammering piano that brings back that raw, irresistible urban-saloon energy belonging to the early Elton John. Even the shape of the project reflects this rejuvenated spirit in the English songwriter, who no longer positions himself as the elder statesman hosting younger talent (as on the previous The Lockdown Sessions), but instead signs an album as an equal partner with Brandi Carlile, by now a fully mature star of the country scene.

All the caustic irony of Captain Fantastic resurfaces in the reworking of "Never Too Late", taken from the Disney documentary of the same name: Elton has no intention of writing the final word on his artistic journey, and he declares as much with a provocative, liberating "fuck off Heaven's Gate". But there's also a sense of farewell in the closing "When The Old World Is Done With Me", where he seems to write a kind of self-epitaph. "Release me like an ocean wave, return me to the tide", he sings, as if bidding farewell not just to his audience, but to himself as well. If this truly is a goodbye, it's a send-off in grand style.

Contributions by Fabio Ferrara ("Who Believes In Angels?")

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