CHICAGO — For a long, long time, there was reason to assume every major pop star with a sizable audience and willingness to play live would tour indefinitely. One tour ended; the next began. The road stretched on, and on. Bob Dylan once christened his schedule “The Never Ending Tour.” That was back in 1988. Because as long as a musician was able and willing, regardless of whether we even cared, true mortality was always tomorrow. Way back in 1974, Dylan was already singing, with characteristic snark, “It still ain’t me, babe.” His current tour, or so says his website, will conclude in 2024. He will be 83 then.
I mention that by way of saying, I went to see Elton John at the United Center on Friday night. He was lovely, warm, rollicking at times, the set list a wise selection of mostly the smartest classics, “Take Me to the Pilot,” “Levon,” Burn Down the Mission,” largely culled from the 1970s. No “Lion King,” no “Island Girl.” A fun, soulful show. Sorry you weren’t there, but it was the “Farewell Yellow Brick Road” tour, and you had notice. This farewell began back in 2018, was postponed by the pandemic, and now, according to his website, will wrap the second half of 2023. For the record, the Farewell Yellow Brick Road tour already played the United Center in 2018; then Rosemont and Milwaukee in 2019; there were the two shows this weekend; and though you might assume that was the absolute last time Elton John played Chicago, he’ll playing Soldier Field in August.
It’s a Midwest kind of goodbye.
It takes a while.
After all, John will be a youthful 76 when the Farewell Yellow Brick Road tour farewells, leaving (at least in Bob Dylan years) room for a Final Farewell Yellow Brick Road Tour.
Before I sat down I met Forrest and Martha McDuffie of Oswego. They like farewell tours. They’ve attended farewell tours by Kenny Rogers, Bob Seger and Neil Diamond. When I mentioned to Forrest that Elton is returning to Chicago once more, this summer, he said, “Oh! Is he? OK, good ... well, look, you need to take the farewell thing as a big ‘We’ll see.’” Across the crowded preshow hallway, a guy in a denim jacket was saying to a mother and her daughter, “No, I do not think this is the last tour. I mean, do you?”
“I do,” the mother said.
“Unless Elton runs out of money,” the man said, then pulled out his phone, “Hey Siri, is Elton John broke?”
The daughter, Emily Klasky, was a teenager, she wore a terrific sequined-replica of Elton John’s glitter-crusted Los Angeles Dodgers costume; she wore it for Halloween; she said she just started listening to Elton John after the 2019 biopic “Rocketman.” She didn’t seem concerned if he retires. The guy is 74. Cash in that 401(k), Captain Fantastic. Of the people I spoke with, those saddened by Elton retiring were nearing retirement age, and younger fans (of which there was a sizable number) merely shrugged. One 20-something from Logan Square wearing peach-colored, bedazzled eyeglass frames told me, “I’m more scared that Elton will get mad at Joe Rogan and quit Spotify.”
Then he waded into the crush of people and sang the chorus of “Levon” loudly, to whoops from passersby, singing it the way Elton sings it, the way he sang it soon after: Soaring, throaty drama that seemed to catch a tide of strings — He was born a pauper to a pawn on a Christmas Day! When the New York Times said God is dead! And the war’s begun! It’s the sound of my mother singing to herself in the car when I was seven and no doubt, she sounded great in her own head. At its best, Elton’s farewell recaptures that release, and does surprisingly often, and it’s nothing to take lightly. It’s the heart of what you will miss when he’s gone, coupled with that exuberant pound of the low keys of the piano. It never ages. A tinkly “Candle in the Wind” was too far this side of kitsch to sound more than routine on Friday, but “Border Song,” its alchemy of bombast and sincerity, still grabs. On an epic “Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding,” he took those qualities and tacked on a headlong rush. You could watch Elton chasing down old times.
You could also see an older musician, one gone pear-shaped, who waddles slowly whereas he once leapt across stages. He does his old mugs and scowls and tongue wags at the audience, but now it resembles a grandpa playing with children. Which sounds probably crass, but, truly, it was kind of oddly touching. Then again, self-parody is baked into Elton John. He wore black tails, he wore a dragon-green robe, which he pulled off to reveal ... a track suit, as if, after the show, he was making a Trader Joe’s run. It was laugh-out-loud charming, an aging star delivering a glimpse of retirement.
He paused at times to remind us of his electrifying American breakthrough in 1970; he noted the November date of his first Chicago show and that Friday’s was exactly his 50th concert in the city. Back then, in the old mythology of rock mortality — when the performers of what we now call classic rock were naive and young — retirement sounded improbable. The idea was to drop dead on stage.
Metaphorically, at least.
Five decades on, those tropes are calcified, mostly retired. Madonna canceled shows for health problems. Members of Metallica took time off to address health issues. Mick Jagger had heart surgery. Nobody really wants to die on stage. We knew this would happen, right? We just never thought about it, OK? It sounded cool. Except Tom Petty and Prince died taking drugs intended to relieve some of the pain of endless touring. Those deaths hurt. The CEO of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame told USA Today that he’s tired of lowering their flag to half-staff all the time. And so retirement beckons louder than ever these days. Except, once again, of course, entertainers have mixed success with retirement.
Cher has had multiple farewell tours. Judas Priest once bid adieu, then decided later, nah. The Who made a big deal about its retirement in the early 1980s, but that didn’t stick. Kiss has been saying goodbye for years. The Band famously played “The Last Waltz,” and Robbie Robertson warned in Martin Scorsese’s classic film of the show that the road kills. But then the Band continued touring (minus Robertson). Ozzy Osbourne launched the No More Tours tour in the 1990s; as well as the Retirement Sucks Tour; and the No More Tours 2 farewell tour. The Grateful Dead played its last show at Soldier Field in 2015; soon after, many of the remaining members continued as the Dead & Company.
It’s not always marketing.
I will go out on a limb and believe Paul Simon retired when he finished his farewell tour a few years ago. Same with Bob Seger and Anita Baker. I also believe, when Elton John’s tour has finished, he really will be finished. I’m even OK with him dragging it out.
The Farewell Yellow Brick Road tour, full of self-aggrandizement and nostalgia, but played with heart, takes the shape of actual closure. I could have done with fewer distracting videos blown up King Kong-size behind Elton — but then am I really complaining about bad taste at an Elton John concert? You get the Americana-inflected, Band-influenced earthiness that juiced his first splash (the show’s best moments are when the band roams a bit, recalling the loosey-goosey energy of those early albums); you get the gradual ‘80s mediocrity (“I’m Still Standing”); you get “Cold Heart,” his duet with Dua Lipa (and first Top 10 hit in decades), a reminder he was contemporary once, too; which he pairs with “Your Song,” segueing from his latest hit to his first, spanning 52 years. Then, after two and a half hours, he stands on a platform which ascends upward, through a screen at the back of the stage, as if Elton John were being placed in storage.
Maybe he is.
As Randy Newman once put it, “There’s nobody applauding at home.”
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