July 27, 1976
Not long after Lynn Van Matre wrote this review for the Tribune, Elton John fell victim to burnout and announced he was through with music. After that short-lived retirement, the ’80s and ’90s have found him in a somewhat mellower mood. John performs Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday at the Arie Crown.
Halfway through (the show), it occurred to me what Elton reminded me most of was not Uncle Sam, not a giant ice-cream soda, not Liberace, but Mick Jagger.
Yes, Mick Jagger. Before you decide I’m either extremely nearsighted or extremely smashed, let me explain. Elton reminds me of Jagger in that both have turned into caricatures of themselves.
Elton John, of course, has always been a caricature of a rock star in live performance. His music is one thing; his presentation is another. He mugs, postures, shucks and jives — he’s always done it, but this time around, he seems to be doing it more and more, to the point that it looks stupid without being stupid enough to be funny. After you’ve seen him throw one piano bench off the stage and beat a stagehand with a banana, you’ve seen him throw them all. He does have the grace to look slightly puzzled by the adoring reception all of his shenanigans receive, but the singer-pianist doesn’t manage to look as puzzled as I do.
