In the novel, Dylan’s Cousin Yale, who is 20 and a college junior at CU-Boulder, discovers the music of Elton John and introduces Dylan to it.
Aspen, Colorado
October 1970
A very excited Yale says, “Cousin, you’ve got to hear this new single! I love it! You’ve got to hear this guy!”
“Who?”
“Elton John.”
“Elton John?”
“Yes! You especially have to hear the one with the title ‘Your Song’. There’s a song on the back called ‘The Greatest Discovery’ you’re gonna love too.”
Yale plays the first song in the eight-track stereo we’ve brought with us.
“Your Song” is a ballad. A quiet ballad. It’s the ballad of a gentle, innocent, earnest, pensive, even bashful and shy guy who aspires to a loving relationship and who’s struggling to express his affections. Quite powerful. Simple, warm, charming, lilting, languid, haunting.
“A wonderful song,” I say.
“Yes!” shouts Yale. “Startling in its originality. Do you hear the two basses – acoustic and upright? Do you hear the guitar phrase, how they made it stand out? Do you hear how the drums wait till after the listener is used to the song and arrive in the second verse? Do you hear how the chorus is delayed to heighten its emotional payoff? Do you hear how there’s no clutter?”
“I didn’t hear any of that,” I reply. “But now that you mention it, yep, sure, it’s got all those elements.”
“A timeless song!” Yale exclaims.
He plays the other song on the tape. “’The Greatest Discovery’ is really good!”
I listen to the whole thing. It’s touching, poignant, uplifting. It takes you straight into the heart of a toddler as he encounters for the first time his newborn brother. You see through the boy’s eyes and hear through his ears. The song transports you right into his experience -- his ears hearing strange sounds from the baby, his eyes full of excitement, a parent lifting him through the air, his puzzled head tipped to one side. And here’s your brand-new brother.
“It may be equally good,” I affirm.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Yale says, “but I figured you would. Elton John’s music is gonna sweep the musical world, Dylan! It’s the next In-Thing. It’s a whole new musical era, with Elton John at the forefront. He’s combining funk and soul, rock, blues, gospel, country, and classical. You can hear it all in that album. Elton John is gonna be rock’s biggest star.”
Denver
January 1973
Once back at my home, Yale and I listen to songs on the record player from some of our other favorite musicians.
Elton John came out with a new song last year, and Yale comes alive every time he hears it. “’Rocket Man’! It’s based on a short story by Ray Bradbury – about an astronaut who’s lonely on Mars and yearns to be back home with his wife and kids.
“What a sweet sound!” says Yale. “The instruments dovetail perfectly with the story. Hear the G-minor-9th chord followed by the C-9th chord?” I shake my head no. “Well, do you at least hear the melodic bass lines underneath that lush harmony?” I nod. “It’s transcendent, Dylan. An ode for the ages.”
“Sounds like movement through space,” I say. “It’s stunningly good. And ingenious. Elton is beyond gifted.”
Next, we listen to him sing his dreamy, passionate tribute to the free-spirited women of California and to one woman in particular.
“Perfection!” Yale exclaims.
“Tiny Dancer” is brilliant. An innovative arrangement with flawless lyrics and rhythm, a delicate melody, and virtuoso singing. It starts simple and by the second verse it’s epochal.
Yale beams. “This will remain one of the standard songs in rock music. You won’t have one of the all-time greatest rock songs unless you match ‘Tiny Dancer’ or get close. ’Tiny Dancer’ is a perfect song!”
I have to agree. “It is a perfect song.”
“At home I can’t stop listening to it,” Yale admits.
We play Elton John’s ballad “Daniel” – a song for the departing of a brother or anyone we love.
“So poignant, so touching,” says Yale. “In C-major, with that mellotron for the flute effect and those maracas. But the pathos in his vocals! That’s right up there with the best things Elton John and Bernie Taupin have written.”
“It’s a gift to us all,” I reply.
Yale turns the record over to its B side. “They redid their 1969 ballad ‘Skyline Pigeon’. The lyrics are kinda naïve.”
This hardly matters as we’re swept away by this exceptional song. It’s about moving beyond our limiting cages, spreading our wings, flying free, and fulfilling our dreams.
“Superb,” I say.
Yale’s smiling. “Evocative, soaring, uplifting – a hymn of real depth, kinda heavenly.”
I nod. “Just as remarkable as ‘Daniel’.”
“Maybe that’s what you want for your clients, Dylan.”
“What?”
“To release all of them from their metal chains and show them the way to the freedom they’re all aching for.”
Denver
October 1975
Our first time listening to it Yale and I love Elton John’s new album Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy.
We enjoy his upbeat song “Philadelphia Freedom”. Elton’s giftedness as a vocalist is world-class, his phrasing is perfect, and he punches out Phil-a-del-phi-a like a sports chant.
“It’s got pump!” says Yale. “Love the Black rhythm of it. Rolling Stone calls it the Single of the Year. We should add it to the repertoire of our Walt Whitman performance –”
“—Our—”
“—my little concert with your Whitman acting performance.”
“Sure thing.”
We are blown away by “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”. The music keeps getting better throughout the six minutes. It’s a magnificent anthem – beautiful, dramatic, and moving – about being rescued from a bad relationship or from being suicidal or both. It’s about flying away from darkness, from being on the verge, into sweet freedom.
“Wow!” says Yale. “Pure genius, pure gold. Incredible musical virtuosity.”
I smile. “It’s brilliant in every way and powerful on every level.”
“The words are so direct. Even the drumming is poignant. The A-flat chord with E-flat in the bass. The middle-eight bridge with the extended coda – that’s very unusual.”
“You’re the musician, Yale. Sounds right.”
“Best song I’ve ever heard! My new number one song!”
“Better than ‘Tiny Dancer’?”
“Okay, Dylan, well, then it’s my number two song of all time.”
After we’ve listened to it twice, Yale has more to say. “Actually, the whole album is great. Lyrics, the vocals, the arrangements – all finely honed. And he’s really saying something.”
“Agree, as do millions of people. That and his Greatest Hits album are the two bestselling records of the year. For good reason.”
“Let’s go see him in concert.”
“He’s everywhere. Can’t turn on the radio without hearing him. Why would I want to see him in person?”
He rolls his eyes. “Cause, Dylan, he’s the most popular musician on the planet! Beyond Elvis in the ‘50s, beyond the Beatles in the ‘60s. Two percent of global record sales.”
“A concert might be more than I need,” I counter.
Yale stands up, paces the room, then strides toward me, gesturing wildly, speaking fast. “But you want to see him in person, Dylan. He’s a brilliant showman. That’s why he’s the biggest draw in the world. Nobody else is even close. Every record goes number one. His album in May sold 1.5 million copies in four days! He’s the first person in human history to sell one million cassettes!”
I try to change topics. “Vinyl’s days are numbered.”
Yale keeps driving toward his goal. “Every concert sells out fast. The highest-grossing tours of all time. The world’s never, ever seen anything like Elton John. He’s the biggest celebrity on Earth. No one’s ever done what he’s doing.”
“Am I a potential customer being pitched by a super-salesman?”
He slows his gesturing and speech just a little. “He sings as if he’s considering the words as he sings them. He’s a very thoughtful singer, and so he brings out all the nuances, sings in a truly heartfelt and soulful way.”
“Or am I a juror hearing a lawyer’s closing argument?”
“He’s unique. He’s created himself as the great force in music in the 1970s. He makes each genre of music his own. Pop, rock, Gospel, soul – it’s all there.”
“I’m not sure I have any counterarguments. Or remaining defenses.”
Yale slows a little more but doesn’t take his grip off his goal. “He takes Bernie Taupin’s poetic conceptual ideas and builds a song around each set of lyrics. No one who’s ever lived could match music to words like Elton John can. He starts with those lyrics and a base melody and builds crescendos of moods that overshadow the origin of the song. It’s beyond belief. Then he casts himself as an actor. He takes on the personas of the people in the song. And it sounds as if he wrote the lyrics himself. Every song he does has impact!”
“All right, Yale, all right. We’ll travel to it. I’ll pay for it, including the airline tickets and hotel. Where do you want to see him?”
“Dodger Stadium.”
“Do it.”
He calls within the 65 minutes in which tickets to the Dodger Stadium concerts are on sale – in the 65 minutes during which both shows sell out. He gets two tickets.
Did you know he wrote "Philadelphia Freedom" for Billie Jean King? xo
This brings back memories. I’m excited to read part II. I read in a book that was published in 1915 or around there that there would be a generation born whose hallmark would be music, it would be short lived but its contribution to mankind’s growth would be timeless. “Talkin ‘bout my generation.” What a great story. Thank you. 🙏🏼 ❤️ ✌️