A wry perspective is maintained.Īdmittedly, this perspective can be a drag. The results are infectious without being overpowering. Much of the charm of their best work lies in Elton’s ability to caricature Fifties frenzy, doo-wah choruses and heavy metal without reproducing them note for note and instrument for instrument. If John’s piano playing tended too much toward cliché, at least his and Taupin’s satiric songs used the hackneyed phrases to good effect. “Crocodile Rock,” “I’m Going to Be a Teenage Idol” and “Bennie and the Jets” are less obviously, or perhaps less successfully, tongue in cheek yet they too hold some popular attitudes - “rock is dead,” for instance - up to affectionate and tuneful ridicule. “I Think I’m Going to Kill Myself” deals with the real problem of suicide as a gesture (you’re not around to appreciate the effect) and the wonderfully cheerful piano, tinkling mindlessly as the singer contemplates his end, drives the humor home. In music as well as pose, he could successfully diddle the tragic heroes of popular song. Elton John refused to take rock & roll that seriously, and we loved him for it. And a thumb of his nose to those who accept only the lean and tragic as veritable pop idols. There was something engagingly sly about the self-mocking caption on Rock of the Westies: “Elton John - a boring little musician … prone to getting fat at Christmas.” So much for the more glamorous forms of self-destruction and the stars who seek them. When another performer might have bared his chest and strutted onstage in trousers tighter than White House security, Elton John capered in clown suits and hid behind his glasses.
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