The Elton John Live SMS Review Transcript

One somewhat ill-fated evening, Kirsty Brown — my editor at the Brag — and I pants-wetting excitedly trooped off to see Elton Hercules John perform solo. Following is the twenty-odd dollars worth of text messages sent to eachother across the caverns of Acer Arena, later reproduced in the Brag as the official review. (Elton came back to make amends with the Goodbye Yellow Brick Road band about six months later and pretty much owned human existence.)

Kirsty and Elmo live review Elton John via SMS

Elton John waddles onto the stage wearing what can best be described as Rhinestone Nanna chic. An embroidered cassock type overcoat with butterflies and roses sewn into it. A diamond earring visible from the back rows of Acer Arena that Kirsty’s mum correctly notes could buy a house. “A NICE house.” What is going on with his rug needs its own review.

E: He looks like a lesbian

K: What about that bling? Foul. Shit seats, row A.

E: Kidding?! At the front you see it all close!

K: Jokes. Row A, third fucking elevation. You?

E: O noes! I’m in the left block on the floor.

Elton begins with a great version of ‘Your Song.’ Moves on to some rare 70s cuts from the Elton John album and Caribou. So far, so good. Oh wait. Here comes some stuff from the early nineties which noone remembers.

K: Dude, what is with the backing track? Cheese on toast.

E: LOL!

K: His fingers gross me out. Lesbian fingers for sure.

E: Man, is he tubby. Is he going to bow after every song? Sit down, tubby.

Pretty great version of Daniel and things are looking up. But then we get a complete murdering of the song we’ve all been waiting for: Rocket Man. Yes, an extended, 2 minute outro with vocal delays, awful backing tracks and videos of space which look like your seventh grade science textbook, really make for a whole new interpretation of a classic.

K: Sorry, but this a shit poor imitation of a once great artist. Feels like a cabaret act. We are 20 years too late, Keep.

E: So far, it’s pretty bad. I’m dying on the inside. Please don’t make me write the review.

K: That just broke my heart. Oh god, how does anyone make THAT song sound so bad? My mum loves though.

E: By losing the top two octaves of your voice in 1986. And abusing delay pedals.

K: I just snuck out, can’t deal with the raping. Mum loves though, so let’s be nice about it until she goes!

Finally the misery stops when Elton introduces a song as “written about New York City.” Cue ‘Mona Lisa’s and Mad Hatters.’ Almost wipes the horrible sear of Rocket Man from our collective memory. This is my all time favourite Elton John song, and I think seeing it live is ALMOST worth suffering the indignities of the first third of the show.

E: OK, this is my favourite.

K: Just stop yelling at me, Elton! Man, his voice is shot.

Now it’s time to tread the 80s back catalogue, which surprisingly, has stood the test of time remarkably well. Or is it just that there has been some horrible shite up until now?

E: And now, for Eighties world.

Sacrifice, not so bad after all. Could be because Elton just sings it straight, plays the keys and refrains from irritating reinterpretations.

E: I’m on the other side now. A few good tunes and I’m in.

K: Good! I’m not, but I’m hoping to be.

A good run: Philadelphia Freedom, I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues, Sorry Seems to be The Hardest Word. Tiny Dancer.

E: This is gold.

K: Better, yes. He obvs needs to warm up! Better now!

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: a ten minute extended excerpt from … Billy Elliott!

E: Beer time!

K: Meet you there!

E: Back in now.

K: I’m buying a t-shirt.

E: HA!

(turns out Kirsty is not being ironic, but instead bought a really sweet shirt I wish I bought.) Ok, this is a really killer version of Take Me To The Pilot. Why couldn’t he have just stuck with this material and fucked that Billy Elliott/Lion King crap right off?

E: It’s better if you just drink a beer really fast.

K: LOL! that was good, but this is not. Where is Benny and the Jets?

E: Surely coming. Plz god, kthx.

K: And when is it going to end? I can think of 10 classics he hasn’t played/ruined yet.

E: Three hours I reckon. Enough time for ‘Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me’

K: Yes! I didn’t think of that. I’m keen for Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting and Pinball Wizard.

E: Just send him a text.

Two and half hours, actually, is what’s on the money. Certain among us are disturbed by Elton’s apparent inability to sweat. I walk right down to the front unobstructed to have a closer look.

E: I’m standing in the front row.

K: I know! I can see you. My mum is jealous.

Cue ‘Benny and the Jets’. I am an official convert in these last few songs. ‘I’m Still Standing’. Zing! I can see steam rising from Elton’s pudgy shoulders, assured he is an actual human. He leaves the stage, returns almost immediately for the encore. He then spends 10 minutes signing about 30 autographs for people in the front rows with furrow-browed concentration. I find this unexpectedly heart warming.

For all the shit we are giving him, when you’re up close you can see that Elton John is still getting a huge amount of joy from playing live. He tears into ‘Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me’, and it seems certain that things are going to end on a high after all. Elton thanks the faithful Sydney crowd, who have turned out over the years to something like 45 shows in the city. “I’m going to finish with something that sums up for me how I feel about Sydney. I love coming here. This is for everyone of you. Thanks for all the love you’ve shown me, I love you too.” OMG! What is it going to be? Goodbye Yellow Brick Road? Someone Saved My Life Tonight? Love Lies Bleeding? Crocodile Rock? God, I can barely stand the tension!

Circle of Life. The Lion Fucking King.

K: I’m out. See you out front.

E: OK, out the front. X

1 year ago | Tags: Elton John SMS review Elmo Keep Elton John Acer Arena Elton John Elton John Sydney