Elton John’s long goodbye reaches London’s O2 Arena — all killer, no filler

Resolute goodbyes find the fabled British stiff upper lip at its most untrembling. To the annals of such plucky leave-takings as Captain Oates stepping into the icy wastes of Antarctica or Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard in Brief Encounter can be added a valiant new adieu: Sir Elton John’s gargantuan farewell tour.

It was long ago in 2018 when the singing knight of the realm embarked on his valedictory series of concert dates. The Farewell Yellow Brick Road tour was meant to last three years, but Covid shutdowns and a hip replacement have extended it even further. The second of 10 scheduled appearances at London’s O2 Arena was the 287th date he has played on this tour. In January, the tour became the most lucrative ever, the first to gross more than $800mn. A Glastonbury headlining slot beckons this summer, with the final curtain due to fall in Stockholm in September.

After so long on the road, it was a well-honed affair. Twenty-four songs, two and a half hours, all killer and no filler. One of the biggest-selling artists in pop history kept the action focused on his 1970s heyday, with only four numbers from later decades. Installed at his grand piano, he was accompanied by old compadres in his backing group, including veteran percussionist Ray Cooper, white-gloved drummer Nigel Olsson and guitarist Davey Johnstone, also the bandleader.

Elton, 76, pounded the ivories and belted out vocals with undimmed heartiness. He wore heart-shaped tinted glasses and sparkly eveningwear like a high-society swell. His singing accent was mid-Atlantic, the Americanised inflection that Briddish pipple of his generation were drawn to, linguistic escapees from drab postwar Blighty. But there were no emotional fireworks in the grand tradition of US showbiz. If Elton was fighting back the tears, it was a one-sided battle. His elaborate specs never looked in danger of being fogged up by lachrymosity. 

“Bennie and the Jets” was the opener, from the album that has given the tour its name, 1973’s Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. The song’s lyrics, by Elton’s regular collaborator Bernie Taupin, tell of a druggy, flamboyantly sci-fi rock band that the kids adore and their parents detest: a very 1970s set-up, although not exactly a portrait of the song’s maker. For all the drugs and wacky outfits in Elton’s history, his routine has always been that of the traditional piano man, not some futuristic pop oddity.

On really bad days, he resembles a seal doing an Elton John impersonation

“Rocket Man (I Think It’s Going to Be a Long, Long Time)” opened with a Nasa countdown. But the lengthy instrumental coda that it was given, with a switch-up in pace timed as expertly as a punchline, demonstrated the song’s grounding in earthy musical virtues. Throughout the night, piano parts boogied and honky-tonked, performed by Elton with beefy dexterity. A pounding rendition of the gospel-rocker “Levon” ended with him collapsing over the lid of his grand as though exhausted, before reviving to grin and point at the audience while mouthing “Oh yeah” and “Thank you” — pure ham, of the highest grade.

His voice can be wobbly these days; on really bad days, he resembles a seal doing an Elton John impersonation. But he was in impressively good form here, muscling his way through “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues” and crying out vigorously during a suitably fiery “Burn Down the Mission”. A flex came in the encore with the juxtaposition of hits spaced apart by 51 years, “Cold Heart” and “Your Song”. Then came some folderol about holding us in his soul forever, uttered in the no-nonsense style of a parent packing a child off to boarding school. A closing version of “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” proceeded to send us on our way, dry-eyed but thoroughly entertained.

★★★★☆

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