When Elton John announced he was retiring from live shows with a “Farewell Yellow Brick Road’ tour, it was time to cross one of the very few remaining living artists off my bucket list.

I hung the expense and bought tickets in 2018 for an autumn 2020 show, in the meantime whetting the appetite as ‘Rocketman’ became one of the very few films I have seen more than once at the cinema.

The 02 shows were postponed owing to covid and rescheduled again when he had hip surgery, and I felt a tad annoyed when he resumed touring in the meantime with these shows bumped back in the queue. I was anxiously hoping his health would hold out, and that I didn’t regret waiting so long in my life to see him.

Indeed why was this so? I’d always enjoyed his hits (in the main) but never seen him for a number of unconvincing reasons, including that for long periods of my youth I considered him not rock enough, or worse than that, a kitsch example of the worst type of melodramatic celebrity. Additionally when I finally invested in a couple of albums 20 odd years ago including a live album, this was when his voice, ravaged by drugs, was sounding a thin shadow of its seventies self.

When to my relief the day finally came, there was a livelier atmosphere around the 02 than is usual for a ‘heritage act’, with several large groups with the air of gay stag nights or hen parties, with revellers in fancy dress, notably outsized flashing glasses. Helpfully messages on the big screen purporting to be from Elton himself encouraged people to stand up and dance without blocking the aisles and to take pictures and video considerately.

After the arena went dark and flashing lights were accompanied by discordant dance music, the man himself arrived from stage left and with an exaggerated stab of the piano to each of the opening notes of ‘Bennie and the Jets’, off we went. Both that and the soulful R’ n’ B of ‘Philadelphia Freedom’ were good opportunities to admire the intuitive playing of his band. A six piece, relatively stripped back compared to some of the expanded touring versions of the biggest acts, they featured three long time members in guitarist and bandleader Davey Johnstone, drummer Nigel Olsson, looking like a stockbroker about to step onto the golf course, and percussionist Ray Cooper who had the top of the raked two tier stage all to himself.

As exemplified by ‘I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues’ (a rare departure from a very seventies centric set with the past 45 years of recording largely ignored), the man himself was on excellent form, his voice deep and rich, with the sound mix designed to place it front and centre. It was also buttressed where needed on the higher notes by backing vocals from his band including from bassist Gregg Bissonette who used to do the same for David Lee Roth.

Far from the egocentric diva of repute, his first significant words were to play tribute to Aretha Franklin prior to ‘Border Song’, which segued into ‘Tiny Dancer’, featuring some delicate country-style slide playing from Davey on a 12 string. The guitarist was then given freer rein with an extended rock out in the middle of ‘Have Mercy on the Criminal’ and an unusual arrangement of ‘Rocket Man’ included a coda of a lengthy instrumental jam.

Of course there would be trademark ballads like ‘Someone Saved My Life Tonight’ and ‘Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word’. Having deliberately avoided setlists I wondered if ‘Candle in the Wind’ might have been retired, but instead it was performed solo by Elton at a piano that moved mechanically across the stage, giving the unfortunate impression from a distance that he was riding a mobility scooter.

Videos showed on the backdrop, the provenance of some of which were lost on me, and were a distraction from the music, but they go with the territory of a big arena show. Yet he did not need to ham up the show for entertainment’s sake with his one concession a couple of snazzy jackets, and his between song comments relatively brief.

Some of the songs gave the lie to that ‘not rock enough’ canard, including the gospelly ‘Levon’ with some call and response jamming from Elton and Davey, ‘Take Me to the Pilot’ and ‘Burn Down the Mission’. Above all ‘Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding’ saw Elton and co in full epic prog mode. The band dynamics were great, often starting slowly and building insidiously with a richer and more involved sound.

We’d already had plenty of hits alongside the album cuts, but after his band intros we were into a home straight of crowd pleasers, starting with ‘Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me’, and including ‘Crocodile Rock’, with Elton and the band pausing for the crowd to sing in falsetto, ‘The Bitch Is Back’ and ‘I’m Still Standing’, naturally with a montage from ‘Rocketman’, both made all the more enjoyable by the great sense of feel with which Davey in particular rocked out. In a similar mode, the set closed with ‘Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting’. It was impossible to hear if Elton was singing the lyrics or just tumbling out some random words but no matter as there was a great atmosphere with Davey and Matt going out into the audience to play.

The first encore was puzzling and personally not to my liking. Wearing a smoking jacket cum dressing gown, Elton was playing what initially sounded like ‘Sacrifice’ but then segued into a medley with ‘Rocket Man’, accompanied not by the band but a dance backing track and a video featuring Dua Lipa (so I’m told). It all made sense when Elton announced his pride at having a number one (‘Cold Heart’) in yet another decade, proving that even at 76 he is more in touch with contemporary pop than this old dinosaur.

My nightmare ended when he said he was going back 52 years to his first hit and I found myself quite emotional realising during ‘Your Song’ quite how his deceptively simple piano melodies and vocal arrangements can touch the heartstrings. Finally, after a perfectly pitched speech of thanks in which he said he was now happier than ever, a final treat in the near title track of the tour- and perhaps his signature song more than any other- in ‘Goodbye Yellow Brick Road’. Again the piano moved across stage as he sang, then after taking his bow he seemed to be hoisted backstage in a glass lift, reappearing in illustrated form on the closing backdrop.

I found myself asking that question again during this wonderful show, why on earth had I not bothered to see him before? A great showman, but more importantly one with an instantly recognisable body of work to rival the Beatles, the Stones and Queen as British pop acts for the ages, and with a depth that his fine band was able to bring out. I’m so glad I saw Elton John when I did, ending such a glorious career of live entertainment on a high.

Review and Photos by Andy Nathan

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