Elton John
Vicarage Road Stadium, Watford

ON THE walls of a flat next to the Vicarage Road Stadium, a tenant had draped a banner saying “Welcome home Elton.” The green, green grass of the stadium may have been covered in protective material to accommodate the near 30,000 crowd, but they’d all come to meet him, and the homecoming was one to match any that has gone before.

It was a wonderfully idiosyncratic British farewell, garlanded by an eclectic audience of all ages and dispositions, including a sizeable element of noisy Watford fans, there to pay tribute to the man who has transformed their football club.

Twenty-stone beer monsters cavorted with fragile grannies, young with old, black with white. This was a long goodbye in the presence of friends, and despite the dimensions of the venue it felt more like a teary bar-room singalong than a stadium spectacular. 

On stage, Elton, though he has seen it all before, seemed to be visibly moved, milking the applause, slapping down the lid of his piano in self-acclamation and reminding the crowd that there was no other UK venue he could possibly have played for his swansong.

Taking to his instrument wearing a pink and sky blue shirt and tail coat jacket, he was soon into I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues, followed by Border Song, which he dedicated to Aretha Franklin, and an extended version of Rocket Man in which he showed that his piano playing skills are still up to scratch even at the age of 75.

After Candle In The Wind there was a short break before a return in another outrageous outfit for Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word, the first of a series of big crowd-singing enterprises and the beginning of a masterly ratcheting up of the excitement that led to Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me, I’m Still Standing, Crocodile Rock and, finally, Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting.

Reappearing for the inevitable encore in a smoking jacket, there was a solo version of Cold Heart delivered over a recorded backing track and then a grand finale of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, before the object of everyone’s affection was transported, angel-like, into the mists of time. 

It was a typically charismatic performance, a two-and-a half-hour set that was beautifully staged and delivered with great heart, but, above all, a respectful show of thanks to the thousands of fans who knew they would never see him again.

So after more than 50 years on the road and more than 3,000 concerts in 75 countries, that's it for Elton. He’s off for a valedictory trip to North America that ends in in November, and then there’ll be no more live performances at all.

The voice is still intact, and he looks fine, but walking seems to be a problem, and among the thanks he gave at the end was a decidedly un-rock’n’roll tribute to his chiropractor. It’s probably the right time to call it a day, and this was unquestionably the right place to do it.

Peter Mason

https://www.eltonjohn.com