Last week, I experienced what may have been the greatest day of my life so far: the day I got to see Sir Elton John live in concert for the first time. This happened on September 27, 2016, in Allentown, PA.
Elton was joined by his usual band: Davey Johnstone (musical director, guitars, mandolin, banjo, vocals), Matt Bissonette (bass, vocals), Kim Bullard (keyboards), John Mahon (percussion, drums, vocals), and Nigel Olsson (drums, vocals).
It seems so simple—if you're a fan of a current performing artist, all you need to do is pay a large sum of money and you'll be granted semi-close access for a brief period of time (in this case, roughly 3.5 hours.) And yet it seems like so much more! To exist on the earth at the same time is already a massive feat. To be in the same enclosed space, to witness such creative beauty at work, to share this moment with so many other fans of said same artist in real time—this is a terrifyingly amazing sensation, one that I did not want to end. If this seems over dramatic, it's probably because there are few performers alive today that I feel anywhere near as obsessed with as I do Elton.
Sir Elton and his band sounded amazing! He played a mix of classic hits (including "Bennie and the Jets", "Rocket Man", "Your Song", and "Candle in the Wind"—where everyone waved their lit mobile phones in the air!) as well as new material from his latest album, Wonderful Crazy Night (my favorite track being "A Good Heart"). (Here's a link to the full set list. From where I was seated (floor center, 34th row back, right in front of the mixing station), the sound was clear but the line of sight occasionally was not.
Occasionally because, during the hits, nearly every single person stood up, screamed wildly, danced, and/or hugged their partners. But as soon as Elton would say "Now I'm about to play some tracks from my new album, Wonderful Crazy Night, everyone would sit down, and the clapping and screaming would fall to a bare minimum. A couple sitting next to me even seemed to use that time to replenish their overpriced crap beers with new ones, awkwardly spill said crap beers on anyone close by, and then return with new crap beers minutes later.
I don't understand. You're seeing Sir Elton John live, you've paid a decent chunk of your (hopefully) hard-earned money, you took non-refundable time out of your life to be here, so you're obviously a diehard fan. But you remain resistant to his newer work even though he is up on stage singing his heart out, performing for you. (And honestly, "A Good Heart" is a really good song and probably would be a major hit if it had been released earlier.) And to make matters even worse, you not only feel these absurd emotions within, but you also want to make them known. You clap less, you sit down, you stop screaming like a crazy person.
To me, it was as if so many hundreds of audience members were deliberately saying to Elton, "I'm here only because I want to listen to the hits. I paid to see you sing the same songs I've been listening to for the past 40 years and will close my mind off to anything new and beautiful you, Bernie Taupin, and your band create."
Sigh.
I know that hits are hits for a reason. When I listen to Elton, I too am more likely to play Goodbye Yellow Brick Road over Wonderful Crazy Night. But regardless, Elton and Bernie still continue to write beautiful compositions, they still strive to create meaning in new music, and they are the very same men who wrote all the classics we know and love. That is worth standing up for. That is worth applauding for, cheering on, listening to, and believing in.
Our favorite musicians are not live jukeboxes, one-trick ponies to throw money at, static robots trapped in time—they are living, creating, human beings. When they continue to push forward, continue to strive as artists, we should be happy and encouraging.
Elton John—I will love you forever. Thank you for your music.
I don't understand. You're seeing Sir Elton John live, you've paid a decent chunk of your (hopefully) hard-earned money, you took non-refundable time out of your life to be here, so you're obviously a diehard fan. But you remain resistant to his newer work even though he is up on stage singing his heart out, performing for you. (And honestly, "A Good Heart" is a really good song and probably would be a major hit if it had been released earlier.) And to make matters even worse, you not only feel these absurd emotions within, but you also want to make them known. You clap less, you sit down, you stop screaming like a crazy person.
