A while back, I told the story of the only thing I wanted for Christmas in 1974—Elton John’s Greatest Hits. It marked the beginning of a year of Eltonmania, not just for me but for much of the civilized world, as Elton enjoyed a period of cultural ubiquity like nothing since the 1964 Beatles. His ubiquity was only different and not new, though. By the spring of 1975, Elton John had been a fixture on the radio for a couple of years. His dominance was remarkable. Over a period of 173 weeks, between December 9, 1972, when “Crocodile Rock” spent its first week on the Hot 100, and April 3, 1976, the final week for “I Feel Like a Bullet,” Elton failed to appear on the Hot 100 in only two weeks. (They were the weeks of July 21 and 28, 1973, after “Daniel” had dropped out and before “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting” charted.)
“Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” took Elton from 1974 into 1975 before falling off the Hot 100 for the week of March 8, 1975. It was replaced by “Philadelphia Freedom,” about which I was completely crazy. (Performance on Soul Train here.) From the first time I heard it, I craved hearing it again, and I’d quite literally run to the radio and crank it up whenever it came on. Within a month, it was Number One. Oddly enough, I didn’t buy the single, although my brother did; I was waiting for the album. Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy came out in late May 1975, a couple of weeks before school got out.
But Captain Fantastic did not include “Philadelphia Freedom,” and I can remember listening to it for the first time on the big console stereo in the living room with a sense of disappointment, because I had just spent $5.98 or $6.98 or whatever it was and I still didn’t have my favorite song. But it didn’t take long for the album to ingratiate itself with me. The album package was totally over the top, with an elaborately illustrated book of lyrics, another booklet of memorabilia that included a comic-strip biography of Elton, and a poster of the album cover that adorned my bedroom wall until I moved away from home for good, five years later. I’d never heard any music as ornate and interesting, and I listened to it obsessively.
There was one song that bothered me, though—the album closer, “Curtains.” The album was autobiographical, and for that reason, “Curtains” sounded like a farewell. Of course, Elton didn’t retire. He scarcely waited a reasonable interval to release another album, Rock of the Westies, which came out only 5 1/2 months later.) But eventually, “Curtains” became my favorite song on the album.
The lyric contains the usual degree of Taupinesque opacity, but as reminiscent poetry goes, it ain’t bad. It dropped into just as my freshman year in high school was ending. I had always been reluctant to let academic years slip away—always preferring the life I had to the one implied by the fact of change—so I latched onto the words about time and memory almost immediately, and I’ve never let them go.