Elton John
Madman Across the Water

If I had to choose a music album to take with me to the afterlife, or maybe in the here and now, on one of those boring and sultry vacations, or even on one of the more fun and adventurous ones, I would choose an Elton album, because first love, even musical, is never forgotten. And which one among the many by the English baronet? One composed when the star of piano ballads and pop/rock pieces with glam influences was not yet a true star, let alone a baronet. I would take that blue jean-stitched cover and wear it out with infinite listens, increasingly inspired by an ever more inspiring musician. It was the year of Led's "Stairway to Heaven," the year Bowie discovered life on Mars, or at least suspected it, the year of Pink echoes, and the goddess of Los Angeles, "LA Woman," with the end of the Doors. But in this magic, the most irreverent jeans in music were also added, with little shame, five shameless rolling stones worked with the most famous pseudo-photographer in history, Andy Warhol. It's curious to note how, in 1971, more stars came together in a harmonious and incredibly precious constellation to gift another masterpiece, by Elton, in the world Reginald Dwight, with "Madman Across the Water" released in that cold November. Here too, jeans return, an undeniable passion of people for at least a decade, indeed since the perfect alchemy between style, comfort, and savings was discovered. The string of tributes to the USA, particularly California, continues, after passing through the hot and arid desert of Nevada, perhaps Arizona and, why not, even Utah. "Tumbleweed Connection" from the previous year was an unrepeatable masterpiece with little commercial appeal. Madman takes its name precisely from a track developed during those sessions, later added in an even more country version of eight and a half minutes (even more mystifying, if possible), ideal for the context. However, the arrival in California is narrated in a song to a muse, Bernie's girlfriend at the time, it seems. She will be the dancer/seamstress of a certain band, with blue jeans, LA lady. In the most beautiful and virtuous dedication that a composing duo like Elton/Bernie could write, we hold onto her, perhaps at dusk, illuminated by the lights of the streetlamps, of the boulevards, and the Cadillacs on the highway. The deeper soul of the '70s music capital, perfect. It continues with an intro by a true academic pianist, or even just a passionate fan of light music. A certain Levon is the protagonist of Madman's second story, here in a melancholic ballad where the somewhat redundant and, why not, also slightly boring chorus leaves in the listener a charm from past times, marked by nostalgia that scratches the clear voice of the star. However, heavily covering this and the piano are the strings and horns of Paul Buckmaster, already a collaborator on the previous two works. The orchestra, however, doesn’t ruin but rather enhances the pathos that is created for the next track, here reaching a fine compromise. Less intrusive, more considered and calibrated arrangements. The presentation of the madman through the water, that is, the title track, connects with mystical and dreamy tones to the subsequent work. The madman, after revealing himself between piano chords, sings of a certain Razor Face, of unknown identity. After all, Bernie liked being enigmatic, to confuse and leave even himself in doubt. But the great stretches of America become visible only from the next track, with the most poignant of stories about the Indians of the steppes and the vast prairies. A civilization at sunset, in extinction, narrated in a moving, varied, alternative song, and what to say, once again perfect. The artist with this work wants to make the grade, and succeeds, the first two tracks are enough to make it clear, the cover, Paul’s orchestra, his well-balanced but slightly dissonant piano, never quite like the honky piano of the next album. But as if all this weren't already great on its own, Elton continues to sing of America, does so in an autobiographical piece, "Holiday Inn," which with a never ill-intended sarcastic note, drags us on tour with him, and transforms us into roadies. Once the plane lands, the band disembarks, as does the staff, yet they find themselves lost, once again in a hot and dry area, almost sultry, not quite as those sung in Tumbleweed. In "Rotten Peaches" we have an anthem to life, to music, a pianist having fun, always though with that melodramatic tone that characterizes it. One of the musically highest moments. To close an eternal album "All the Nasties" and "Goodbye" are on hand, the two less famous, loved, and perhaps even less wanted tracks, yet they fit perfectly into the framework of the ballad pianist of emotional and personal songs. The first of the two is a flashback into the past, here too one sees the redemption of an agonized childhood, particularly close and known to the artist. The true conclusion is then a simple song, the end, like the fab four closed a couple of years earlier. "Goodbye" is the classic piano sonnet you would expect to be the closing piece of such a compact work, and then we are satisfied, with a piece of great quality, once again strong emotions and compactness, but also simplicity and humility, without too many excesses, not even one in fact, to coherently close a circle started about 45 minutes earlier. The singer apologizes for having stolen our time, does so in a few minutes, leaves the stage with his head bowed, he, who for this Madman would deserve a standing ovation from 1971 until today, and may it continue still. Goodbye Elton of the most authentic passion of America, of the blue-toned album, of the album with 9 cobalt pearls, you will make way for the pop star, or rather the glam star you will soon be, without however losing your musical genius, at least for a while longer.