Me by Elton John
Me by Elton John is a fun, down-to-earth read by a mega icon in the music world who provided part of the soundtrack to my adolescence in the 1970s and followed the familiar rags-to-riches-to-figurative-rags path we have seen in celebrities of the late 20th century. A mild-mannered boy who grew up in the post-war London suburb of Pinner, Elton (how can you possibly refer to him by his last name?) achieved a meteoric rise beginning from an episodic moment in a Los Angeles nightclub that propelled him to “owning” the 1970s music world, affording him world renown and a ridiculously extravagant lifestyle. As he himself admits, this celebrity enabled him to sink to the profoundest depths of self-delusion through excessive drug use and distorted relationshipping. Elton’s narrative is ultimately a comedy; he manages to achieve insight enough to find love and keep it, and not fall prey to the excesses of success - a level of success that is almost imaginable, given that he is arguably the third most successful popular music artist behind The Beatles and Elvis…
I will admit upfront that it is hard to review Elton’s biography objectively. Some of the most appealing parts of the book is when he references meaningful moments in his life using markers that I personally can identify with. This is different from all the music luminaries of the 1960s who had just preceded him and whom I grew up (rightly or wrongly) reverencing. When Elton describes shedding tears over his romantic dysfunction to 10cc’s “I’m Not in Love,” I remember this group and song unequivocally-- it was scintillating and mesmerizing from the moment I heard it and serves as marker of my slipping into the kaleidoscopic yearnings and emotional gyrations of my teenage years. I remember what was happening in the world, what the newspaper headlines were blaring (“Ford to New York: Drop Dead”). The first half of Elton’s autobiography, like his music career, is what really interests me. It was a time when rock and roll was entering its young adulthood, and the forging of a famous (music) career was a new thing, without a template. We are all familiar with artists succumbing to drugs, alcohol and sexual indulgence, and in hindsight can label these patterns as “addictive behavior” or borderline psychotic narcissism, maybe. But back then this was more accepted (by fans, anyway) as mere artistic expression, licensed as inherent to creative expression. Elton fully embraced what we began to expect of this genre, yet in his book is able to distance himself enough from it to reclaim his autonomy and survive it. What is different in his now familiar case is the sheer magnitude of success he achieved in his decades-long career. He has sold umpteen millions of records, has played in every corner of planet earth, and achieved a net worth currently in the hundreds of millions of dollars.
What I find interesting is relations between famous people-- how they differ (or not) from “less rarified” worlds than theirs. Celebrity interaction is particularly refracted, through the lenses of personas and their awareness of the media, and in this respect observations made under the media microscope are affected by the observing itself (like physics’ “observer effect”?). In the book, Elton recounts being invited to play live with the Rolling Stones and, thanks to his excessive zeal prompted by much intake of cocaine, he overstays his welcome by remaining onstage through an entire set instead of one song. Keith Richards kept staring intently at Elton, who, under the influence, interpreted this attention as recognition of his remarkable performing skills on display. I remembered reading over the years about Keith Richards’ and Elton Johns’ barbs hurled at each other (“he only writes songs about dead blondes” / “like a monkey with arthritis; so pathetic” -- you can deduce who made which comment); it was intriguing to examine the psychodynamics of these two superstars and what was maybe the moment that ignited their feud. To me, this isn’t trivializing or sensationalizing. It renders them more relatable and de-privileges them.
Elton’s biography also displays a vulnerability that felt more honest than many “confessionals” that I’ve read and which masquerade further self-aggrandizing. On a personal level, I’ve often considered my “role within the family script” that I’ve inherited, and how difficult it is to modify it, even as an aspiring adult (!) still seeking equanimity and healthy self-esteem (we can’t choose our relations but we can choose our relationships...). Mr. John has achieved worldwide renown, a prodigious body of work spanning multiple decades, and is on his way towards billionaire status. And yet, even into his seventh decade, he has expressed an ongoing “fear” of his mother and discomfort being emotionally honest with her; his reversion to the same childhood reactive responses at moments of family duress in his earlier years as “Reg Dwight.” To me this is staggering (and a little bit dismaying), never mind that some of the world’s greatest art is created in response to one’s upbringing, whether it be endlessly proving yourself to an unresponsive parent, or reacting to unbearable emotional stricture or expectations.
The second half of Me is somewhat a litany of excesses, including the familiar demons of drug use, drink, looking for love, and railing at circumstances that came along with the glory ofrepeated platinum record sales, worldwide recognition and adulation, and living life as large and luxuriously as imaginable. For me, Elton’s peak years (apologies, Reg) were in the 1970s - and not much beyond the middle of that decade. I watched him reach the apogee Dodger Stadium concerts when he appeared to take the mantle from Bowie of biggest celebrity of the decade with his commandeering of the FM airwaves-- the peak radio years. His earlier songs were, like I said, a soundtrack to my nascent adolescent drives and longings-- not that generation of artists immediately preceding, those “elephant-in-the-python” boomers whom I learned to adulate and whose coattails my generation of artists rode on. Elton’s years of early success was a period of my life-- my early teens-- when I took the risk of adopting cultural markers and trends that were, if not dismissed by, then outside the field of vision of my parents. Rock and roll and the fashion that followed were, if not novel, tumbling into a maturer identity (“the stadium era!”). I was surprised to learn that one of Elton’s stated reasons why he started using cocaine was, despite his success, that he “never felt cool.” I always thought somehow that huge levels of fame and income would have an assuaging effect on these sorts of feelings. His early albums--say Goodbye Yellow Brick Road to Blue Moves-- also coincided with my own decision to develop “my coolness,” -- in other words, to individuate from my identity as a child, as my father’s son; a path that reached from junior high through graduation. And early-to-mid adulthood. Etc. etc.
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I, like Elton, am also warmed by the inter-generational embrace of his music-- something that I don’t quite understand. On the one hand, it appears to me a recognition of the quality of the music that I chose from early in my life; I had great taste and have still not abandoned many of my favorites as my life has proceeded. On the other hand, such widespread appreciation “dilutes” the artist’s distinctiveness and somehow makes them more commonplace, never mind that it is not the music that has changed, but the audience. I don’t really know Elton’s later work (which has apparently met a more ambivalent criticism) but I suggest that it cannot encompass the scope of change seen in his early work, which may be a function of aging rather than style. Even Bowie stopped switching hats when he reached young middle age. I have grown to more appreciate the lyrics in a song (with thanks to Robert Hunter’s epic catalog with the Grateful Dead) and I look forward to further studying Bernie Taupin’s contribution to Elton’s canon. Admittedly, I always thought Elton was a little sloppy in articulating the words in his songs; the words are generally second fiddle to the melody and energy.
In Me, Elton’s description of episodic outrageousness onstage and in his life, his alienating his friends, his entourage, his managers, particularly during the middle of his career, comes across as a little overweening, as if he consistently tries to “outdo himself” despite his claims of contrition. His mega-celebrity supernova life arc veers toward the instructional as another circuitous, indulgent, “too-much-of-a-good-thing” lesson in genuinely acquired humility, as is seen with lots of other celebrity reprobates. He does come across as sincere, however, in his conversion to “living life small(er)” and the embracing of family values and relationships that are more on an equal footing. It is only when he renounces hiding behind “the Elton John” brand that he finds the lasting love that he sought from the outset of his life-- a love that creditably has lasted over twenty-seven years. I remember growing up thinking that professional acclaim, financial ease, and societal validation were way more inherent to success in love than they actually are, and will take his word for it that they are not the guarantor that is supposed.
Returning to Keith vs. Elton: I’ve heard stories that the Rolling Stones (at least at one time) compiled a list of instructions on how to interact (or not) with them in the workplace, including not looking at them directly or asking any questions not immediately pertaining to the work at hand. As a corrective to this, I was surprised when I saw them live a summer or two ago, still to a packed stadium, but also when Mick offer an extended heartfelt gratitude for the audience’s presence at the end of the show. I couldn’t reconcile these deep septuagenarians with their “bad boy” image that they devoted a lifetime developing. But equally, I couldn’t imagine Elton coming up with such an agenda for the public at this point in his career, or even during his heyday when he never took “no” for an answer. In the light of this current cultural moment that is as fame-crazed as ever before, celebrity is also paradoxically de-valorized, at least among people who are willing to deconstruct the false elements of myth-making. Mr. John is in this case then ultimately “cooler” than his antagonists in exposing his vulnerability and commonality, which gives him license to“keep the fruits of his colossal labors as fully earned; the money, the acclaim, the Title of Elton John...
I will admit upfront that it is hard to review Elton’s biography objectively. Some of the most appealing parts of the book is when he references meaningful moments in his life using markers that I personally can identify with. This is different from all the music luminaries of the 1960s who had just preceded him and whom I grew up (rightly or wrongly) reverencing. When Elton describes shedding tears over his romantic dysfunction to 10cc’s “I’m Not in Love,” I remember this group and song unequivocally-- it was scintillating and mesmerizing from the moment I heard it and serves as marker of my slipping into the kaleidoscopic yearnings and emotional gyrations of my teenage years. I remember what was happening in the world, what the newspaper headlines were blaring (“Ford to New York: Drop Dead”). The first half of Elton’s autobiography, like his music career, is what really interests me. It was a time when rock and roll was entering its young adulthood, and the forging of a famous (music) career was a new thing, without a template. We are all familiar with artists succumbing to drugs, alcohol and sexual indulgence, and in hindsight can label these patterns as “addictive behavior” or borderline psychotic narcissism, maybe. But back then this was more accepted (by fans, anyway) as mere artistic expression, licensed as inherent to creative expression. Elton fully embraced what we began to expect of this genre, yet in his book is able to distance himself enough from it to reclaim his autonomy and survive it. What is different in his now familiar case is the sheer magnitude of success he achieved in his decades-long career. He has sold umpteen millions of records, has played in every corner of planet earth, and achieved a net worth currently in the hundreds of millions of dollars.
What I find interesting is relations between famous people-- how they differ (or not) from “less rarified” worlds than theirs. Celebrity interaction is particularly refracted, through the lenses of personas and their awareness of the media, and in this respect observations made under the media microscope are affected by the observing itself (like physics’ “observer effect”?). In the book, Elton recounts being invited to play live with the Rolling Stones and, thanks to his excessive zeal prompted by much intake of cocaine, he overstays his welcome by remaining onstage through an entire set instead of one song. Keith Richards kept staring intently at Elton, who, under the influence, interpreted this attention as recognition of his remarkable performing skills on display. I remembered reading over the years about Keith Richards’ and Elton Johns’ barbs hurled at each other (“he only writes songs about dead blondes” / “like a monkey with arthritis; so pathetic” -- you can deduce who made which comment); it was intriguing to examine the psychodynamics of these two superstars and what was maybe the moment that ignited their feud. To me, this isn’t trivializing or sensationalizing. It renders them more relatable and de-privileges them.
Elton’s biography also displays a vulnerability that felt more honest than many “confessionals” that I’ve read and which masquerade further self-aggrandizing. On a personal level, I’ve often considered my “role within the family script” that I’ve inherited, and how difficult it is to modify it, even as an aspiring adult (!) still seeking equanimity and healthy self-esteem (we can’t choose our relations but we can choose our relationships...). Mr. John has achieved worldwide renown, a prodigious body of work spanning multiple decades, and is on his way towards billionaire status. And yet, even into his seventh decade, he has expressed an ongoing “fear” of his mother and discomfort being emotionally honest with her; his reversion to the same childhood reactive responses at moments of family duress in his earlier years as “Reg Dwight.” To me this is staggering (and a little bit dismaying), never mind that some of the world’s greatest art is created in response to one’s upbringing, whether it be endlessly proving yourself to an unresponsive parent, or reacting to unbearable emotional stricture or expectations.
The second half of Me is somewhat a litany of excesses, including the familiar demons of drug use, drink, looking for love, and railing at circumstances that came along with the glory ofrepeated platinum record sales, worldwide recognition and adulation, and living life as large and luxuriously as imaginable. For me, Elton’s peak years (apologies, Reg) were in the 1970s - and not much beyond the middle of that decade. I watched him reach the apogee Dodger Stadium concerts when he appeared to take the mantle from Bowie of biggest celebrity of the decade with his commandeering of the FM airwaves-- the peak radio years. His earlier songs were, like I said, a soundtrack to my nascent adolescent drives and longings-- not that generation of artists immediately preceding, those “elephant-in-the-python” boomers whom I learned to adulate and whose coattails my generation of artists rode on. Elton’s years of early success was a period of my life-- my early teens-- when I took the risk of adopting cultural markers and trends that were, if not dismissed by, then outside the field of vision of my parents. Rock and roll and the fashion that followed were, if not novel, tumbling into a maturer identity (“the stadium era!”). I was surprised to learn that one of Elton’s stated reasons why he started using cocaine was, despite his success, that he “never felt cool.” I always thought somehow that huge levels of fame and income would have an assuaging effect on these sorts of feelings. His early albums--say Goodbye Yellow Brick Road to Blue Moves-- also coincided with my own decision to develop “my coolness,” -- in other words, to individuate from my identity as a child, as my father’s son; a path that reached from junior high through graduation. And early-to-mid adulthood. Etc. etc.
I, like Elton, am also warmed by the inter-generational embrace of his music-- something that I don’t quite understand. On the one hand, it appears to me a recognition of the quality of the music that I chose from early in my life; I had great taste and have still not abandoned many of my favorites as my life has proceeded. On the other hand, such widespread appreciation “dilutes” the artist’s distinctiveness and somehow makes them more commonplace, never mind that it is not the music that has changed, but the audience. I don’t really know Elton’s later work (which has apparently met a more ambivalent criticism) but I suggest that it cannot encompass the scope of change seen in his early work, which may be a function of aging rather than style. Even Bowie stopped switching hats when he reached young middle age. I have grown to more appreciate the lyrics in a song (with thanks to Robert Hunter’s epic catalog with the Grateful Dead) and I look forward to further studying Bernie Taupin’s contribution to Elton’s canon. Admittedly, I always thought Elton was a little sloppy in articulating the words in his songs; the words are generally second fiddle to the melody and energy.
In Me, Elton’s description of episodic outrageousness onstage and in his life, his alienating his friends, his entourage, his managers, particularly during the middle of his career, comes across as a little overweening, as if he consistently tries to “outdo himself” despite his claims of contrition. His mega-celebrity supernova life arc veers toward the instructional as another circuitous, indulgent, “too-much-of-a-good-thing” lesson in genuinely acquired humility, as is seen with lots of other celebrity reprobates. He does come across as sincere, however, in his conversion to “living life small(er)” and the embracing of family values and relationships that are more on an equal footing. It is only when he renounces hiding behind “the Elton John” brand that he finds the lasting love that he sought from the outset of his life-- a love that creditably has lasted over twenty-seven years. I remember growing up thinking that professional acclaim, financial ease, and societal validation were way more inherent to success in love than they actually are, and will take his word for it that they are not the guarantor that is supposed.
Returning to Keith vs. Elton: I’ve heard stories that the Rolling Stones (at least at one time) compiled a list of instructions on how to interact (or not) with them in the workplace, including not looking at them directly or asking any questions not immediately pertaining to the work at hand. As a corrective to this, I was surprised when I saw them live a summer or two ago, still to a packed stadium, but also when Mick offer an extended heartfelt gratitude for the audience’s presence at the end of the show. I couldn’t reconcile these deep septuagenarians with their “bad boy” image that they devoted a lifetime developing. But equally, I couldn’t imagine Elton coming up with such an agenda for the public at this point in his career, or even during his heyday when he never took “no” for an answer. In the light of this current cultural moment that is as fame-crazed as ever before, celebrity is also paradoxically de-valorized, at least among people who are willing to deconstruct the false elements of myth-making. Mr. John is in this case then ultimately “cooler” than his antagonists in exposing his vulnerability and commonality, which gives him license to“keep the fruits of his colossal labors as fully earned; the money, the acclaim, the Title of Elton John...
Me by Elton John
- by, Richard P., West Windsor Reference
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