2019/11/9 Elton John @ Wells Fargo Center – “Farewell Yellow Brick Road”

Sir Elton Fucking Hercules John. Any questions?

My expectations have been on an exponential growth curve for this show since September 27, 2018, the date I bought my tickets. Sometimes the anticipation of an event is greater than the event itself. But after a long, slow build, when said expectations are not only met but bested, there are really no words that can rise to the quality of the experience. OhmyfuckingGod is a start. Holyfuckingshit makes a similar statement. As my wife and I settled into a great pair of seats, ten rows up in the lower tier, on the aisle (which would prove to be significant), just left of dead center, our excitement was literally tangible. With an 8:00 ticket time, lights dimmed an impressive six minutes later, and Sir Elton Hercules John took the stage to a roar, the first of many on this night, and the first of two shows in the Wells Fargo Center on his “Farewell Yellow Brick Road” tour. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a lifetime achievement celebration — and it was! — as Elton took us for a nearly three hour tour through one of the greatest catalogs of all time.

The first notes to be heard from the stunning baby grand Steinway on stage right were the unmistakable chords of “Bennie and the Jets,” and with the Rocketman himself as our Captain, we were off down the Yellow Brick Road, on our own magical journey towards Oz. 

Note: disregard this paragraph if you’re not into the old stand vs. sit fight, as I found myself in a mostly seated section for a mostly standing show in a mostly standing arena. As the first notes rang out, I heard the familiar “Down in front!” from somewhere behind which I laughingly shook off with a wave to the rest of the arena. When the folks seated directly behind me arrived late and insisted that I sit, I politely told them that we were at a rock and roll concert and I had as much right to stand in my seat as they had to sit in theirs. They denigrated quickly. Man I hate this shit. I wasn’t initially impolite.They just didn’t get the answer they wanted. How come their right to sit supersedes my right to stand? I’d be equally as miserable sitting as they would be standing, but nobody ever considers that side of the coin. And it wasn’t me versus the arena. It was just me and the people directly behind me. Everyone else was standing. So whether you call it pop rock, glam rock, or just rock, it’s still fucking rock and this was a live concert. Ultimately I moved to the aisle with my wife and I think everyone was happy. I was just annoyed that they didn’t want to work on a fair solution before they started cursing at me because the aisle solution was there all along. Ok, I’m better now. “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues,” eh.

Whereas each of the first three songs had a six-piece backing band, “Border Song” was the first song featuring Elton solo with his baby grand. Holy Moses, is there a more quintessential performer on earth than Elton John? His voice, his delivery, his piano playing, transcendent each and everyone. And his catalog — relentless! “Tiny Dancer” and “Philadelphia Freedom” were next as Elton moved the crowd masterfully through a full spectrum of emotions: melancholy and awe to romanticism and jubilation.

“When Bernie gives me the lyrics, I take them into the other room and read them and a story develops in my head. It plays out before me and I hear a soundtrack in my head. Then I sit down at the piano and hope for the best.” Um, ok, sure thing, Mozart. Looks like it’s working. “This one was five and a half pages long when I got it,” said John, introducing “Indian Sunset” which, on the heels of that introduction, sounded as rich and complex as the score for Braveheart. “Rocketman” was next, the soundtrack to John’s life and career. Perhaps it wasn’t written with that way, but certainly ended up as such, especially on the heels of his autobiographical movie by the same name. Major goosebumps. Talk about a dude come full circle, from the lowest depths of despair to knighthood. And a fucking remarkable pianist, have I mentioned that yet?!?!.

I remember in high school I used to listen to Elton Live in Australia with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, even then preferring live tracks over their studio counterparts. “Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word” spent months on repeat; hearing it live with my wife was unspeakably intense. “Take Me to the Pilot” and “Someone Saved My Life Tonight” further toyed with my emotions before “Levon,” undoubtedly the jam of the night. It was a party at the piano, every musician who wasn’t grounded by a drum kit or a keyboard gathered around the baby grand, and even had a little bit of what sounded decidedly like a “Satisfaction” jam during the guitar solo. “Candle in the Wind” continued the unremitting assault on my senses before a short break and outfit change. This is as good a time as any to recognize Bernie Taupin, the lyricist behind the majority of John’s catalog, who has to be revered as one of the greatest songwriters of all time, Robert Hunter to Elton John’s Jerry Garcia. 

LIterally one iconic song after another, the set continued with “Daniel,” “Sad Songs Say So Much,” “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me,” “The Bitch is Back,” “I’m Still Standing,” which felt more than a little like a victory song for me, “Crocodile Rock,” and “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting,” the setlist reading like an encyclopedic victory lap through Elton’s songbook.

While the stage set-up and screens were formidable, I thought the lighting left something to be desired. At one point, using a rig extending the length of the arena whose effect approximated what it looks like when the house lights at MSG are tied in to concert lighting, I realized how lucky and spoiled we are to see CK5 regularly light up MSG. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine what he could have done with this tour.

We moved closer to the stage and our parking spot for the two song encore, “Your Song” and, quite obviously if you’re keeping score, “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.” Now we were thrilled with our seats all night, but these were next level as we basically walked into the equivalent of Dolan’s bunker box, except stage right instead of left. Elton John literally 25 feet in front of us, eye level, taking us to the finish line in a sequined robe, his third outfit of the night after a nearly three hour marathon. Coming in cold and having refused to read any kind of setlist or review for the last two years while this tour has been ongoing, I set the outfit change over/under at 3.5 before the show. I took the under — can’t win ‘em all.

Elton John, flamboyant and fabulous, saluted the crowd as he took in the last of its adulation and rode off into the Yellow Brick Road on the screens. Truly a performance for the ages, you can see how he relishes these shows and why he keeps extending this tour. If you’ve read this far, you’re likely a fan. Go see him. Say goodbye. Scream and cheer and sing and dance and laugh and cry. Feel the feels. Dance your steps. Salute Sir Elton Hercules John one last time.