I wish everyone I had an unnatural musical adoration for would come on tour as often as Elton Hercules John does. This was the second time I’ve seen him in a year, and the second time in my adult life. The sad, nerdy truth about me dear reader, is that Elton John was the first gig I ever went to. I was eight. I fell asleep. That is no indication of how much I love his music, sewn as it is into my very DNA care of repeat listens from an early age at the hands of my parents.

So seeing him from drastically better seats in the same venue almost 20 years later was incredible to me. Doubly so taking a good friend of mine along whose first show was that same one, when he was eight and also fell asleep. In the review section I was sandwiched between some very prominent Sydney music journalists, and this seemed the ideal time to get up in my seat and dance like a complete idiot to the tune of I’m Still Standing.

Dan shot some great stuff again from way up close. But still to me, not a patch on this beauty he got a couple of years ago from the mixing desk with a telephoto lens.

I doubt there are many things in life for which we feel affection like we do for those which remind us of our childhood. Though this might be a stock in trade — nostalgia — for Elton John these days, he is still out there two thirds of the year playing live, and giving it hell for over two hours.

Old people: not entirely useless.