The Subtle Perfection of Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer”
Published in Far Out Magazine March 25th, 2020
In 2017, I bought my parents tickets to see Elton John in Las Vegas. My Mom had made it very clear, in that passive yearning sort of way, that it was something she wanted to experience. That exchange went like this:
Me: Mom, you know, Elton John will be playing in Las Vegas while you’re there. Is that something you’d like to see?
Mom (exasperated): Ohh, Elton! She paused to collect herself. “How much is it?”, she asked.
“It doesn’t matter how much it costs,” I replied, “is it something you might want to see?”
“Let me ask your dad,” she said.
She held the phone away.
“Your dad asks how much is it.”
My mom isn’t the type of woman who treats herself. With the exception of double portions of dessert, which she indulges in with devilish delight, she’s not the type of person who thinks she’s worth it.
She needs permission.
I bought the tickets.
Though I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to shoot video at a Las Vegas stage show, my mom just couldn’t help herself. Over the course of Elton’s three-hour career-spanning set, she sent multiple videos of the show through the ether.
Each one maintained that shady, up-skirt-from the hip aesthetic that only moms can get away with.
The next time we spoke, she was beaming. She said it was the best concert she’d ever seen (and she’s seen Engelbert Humperdinck multiple times).
There was one setlist detail that, for no particular reason, I needed to know:
“Did he play “Crocodile Rock”? I asked.
She confirmed that he had.
I’ve never been that big of an Elton John fan. I’ve always found myself on the Billy Joel spectrum of piano rock and roll.
Regardless, I’m sure it was amazing: Elton, in his element, in full Elton garb.
However, in a recent random YouTube encounter, I discovered a different Elton, pre-wig, closeted and un-bedazzled on an old episode of The Old Grey Whistle Test.
The video I came across isn’t obscure by any means. At the time of this piece, it was toeing 50 million hits. Nevertheless, it reveals a decidedly different image of Elton, a man tense and subdued.
And it’s a perfect window into his raw talent.
This stark performance is a far cry from the downright vaudevillian persona that follows. His sequined jacket and rectangular sunglasses are tame by comparison to the grandiose image we have of him today.
It’s just Elton, a piano, and a stripped-down version of Tiny Dancer, the song that rocketed him to superstardom. Gone are the gentle percussive snare hits and upper octave bass plucks that build up the second verse. The bridge stands alone without the quarter note cello strikes, ethereal lap steel and ascending lead guitar progression.
It’s just Elton driving the pace and building the tension of the song for six riveting minutes. And it feels like an intimate audition for greatness.
Elton finesses the second verse as he splits his trademark baritone across the bridge and through the chorus. It’s gritty, pained, imperfect, and vulnerable.
Elton lands on C and puts the song to bed.
With it, he leaves us with a glimpse into the enormous talent that would later give us “Rocket Man” and, yes, that much-beloved nostalgic anthem “Crocodile Rock”.
Andrew is a writer and musician. For conversations, collaborations, or to just say hi, you can e-mail him at a.clark.writer[at]gmail[dot]com
