Amy

Even though Taupin was moving away from the Old West and rural-life scenarios of earlier albums, he still had plenty left to write about on the subject. "Amy" isn't specifically in this vein, but it does suggest it as he gives us a subject who's a plucky young 18-year-old right out of a 40's or 50's film, a Mickey Rooney type, or more aptly a James Dean (who gets namedropped in the chorus)-ish sort who is crushing hard on a girl in town with a spotty reputation- and his father, along with the local tough guys, are all trying to keep them apart. "But they can bust my head", John sings, "'cause I love you just the same."

John gives it a distinctive, high-energy accompaniment, beginning with a Stones-ish intro with congas and piano at the beginning, then a saucy guitar lick. However, the most notable sound in the mix belongs to Jazz violinist and occasional '70s Zappa sideman Jean-Luc Ponty, who propels the song along with a gliding lick that turns manic as the music becomes more urgent and aggressive during and after the "Amy, I may not be James Dean..." chorus. Elton's vocals match the push and pull of the rhythm; cajoling during the verses, and clipped during the chorus.

It never gets any attention when this album is discussed, understandable due to the several notable tracks on Chateau, but this has always been one of my favorite cuts on this LP.

Your Sister Can't Twist (But She Can Rock 'n' Roll)

If "Crocodile Rock" successfully evoked the mood of Del Shannon and other Fifties artists, then "Your Sister Can't Twist" spins it into overdrive.

Easily one of the most manic tracks in John's classic ouevre, "Sister" begins with a basic Chuck Berry guitar pattern (played by Johnstone with that pinched, compressed guitar sound which he was beginning to experiment with at the time and reached its apex on "The Bitch is Back") accented with the same Farfisa organ sound that defined "Crocodile", sped up double time and spiced with doo-wop style backing vocals. After John sings the first few verses, the organ strikes up a circus-carousel melody, the backing singers ooh-ooh-wah a la the Beach Boys, and deliver an inspired instrumental break that just soars before shifting back to the main melody, delivering one more hyped-up reprise of the verse and bringing the whole thing charging to a finish via repetition of the title, with the doo-wop BVs ending abruptly and segueing right into the cracking drumbeat and rock guitar riff of the next track, "Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting"- a perfect intro for one of John/Taupin's hardest rocking efforts.

No Shoe Strings on Louise

This little burst of invective at some out-of-the-singer's-league slattern doesn't exactly feature the finest example of Bernie's lyrical skills...but is totally redeemed by Elton's swaggering, Band-inspired country-blues funk arrangement. The judicious use of bongos just before the "C'mon down, c'mon down..." part sounds really great, and producer Gus Dudgeon provides some nice sonic depths with some really deep bass.

This track sounds so good you can overlook lines about "paper cans" and the like, which may pass for country slang where Taupin comes from, but just scan oddly elsewhere. It wouldn't be until much later that he would really get comfortable at writing this sort of vernacular.

Crazy Water

A song dealing with feelings of separation and embattlement, using deep sea fishing (of all things) as a metaphor for a musician's touring and recording lifestyle. John and Taupin were feeling a bit frayed around the edges by 1976, and it shows on not only this cut, but the entire Blue Moves album.

Despite the downbeat slant of the words, though, this one's hopped-up Philly Soul/Disco all the way, stuffed with massed strings (Paul Buckmaster returned for a few cuts on this LP) group choirs (including Toni Tennille and Bruce Johnston) and the everpresent hi-hat, courtesy of Roger Pope, who probably would never have dreamed that John's music would end up like this back in the Tumbleweed Connection days. Its breakneck pace isn't really conducive to dancing, and the melody isn't a strong one.

All in all, one of EJ's more forgettable tracks from this period, despite all the money spent and production excess.

Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds

Elton spent a great deal of 1974 cultivating a friendship with John Lennon, both in and out of the studio. The first of these collaborations was a cover version of Lennon's surreal Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band track, "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds", on which the former Beatle contributed backing vocals and guitar.

Elton stays pretty close to the Pepper version, with a few differences: extensive use of Mellotron, Ray Cooper's bells, and a reggae-flavored tempo during the chorus, along with an uptempo instrumental passage in the middle in which the aforementioned Mellotron takes a prominent role. The ever-present Beach Boys-style harmony vocals of his band also add a nice touch; smoother than the Fabs, a little slicker perhaps, but still very good.

This went to #1 for two weeks early in 1975, and for good reason- Elton's star was still burning bright, and 1975 also saw the beginnings of a bit of a revival of interest in the Beatles as well, which really bore fruit with several subsequent Capitol collections of Beatles songs. After also recording a cover of Lennon's much less accomplished solo cut "One Day (At a Time)", Elton then guested on two cuts from Lennon's upcoming Walls and Bridges LP, "Whatever Gets You Thru the Night" and "Surprise Surprise (Sweet Bird of Paradox)". John and Lennon (boy that scans weird, doesn't it?) made a bet- if "Night" went to #1, then the former would appear onstage with the latter. "Night" did indeed top the charts, and Lennon made good on his promise- which would, sadly, turn out to be the final live onstage appearances of his life.

Texan Love Song

In which two Englishmen attempt to write a satirical song from the point of view of a good ol' boy from Texas a la Ed Sanders' Johnny Pissoff (from "The Iliad") or Zappa's Lonesome Cowboy Burt, and manage to succeed admirably, against all odds.

Rather than show disdain or contempt for our irate redneck, Taupin stays objective and lets him retain a sort of dignity, even as he blusters against the long-haired hippies who drink his beer and ogle his women:

So it's Ki yi yippie yi yi
You long hairs are sure gonna die
Our American home was clean till you came
And kids still respected the president's name

And the eagle still flew in the sky
Hearts filled with national pride
Then you came along with your drug-crazy songs
Goddamnit you're all gonna die

And it's John's melody line which enables this to happen; subtle chord changes during the above chorus add a melancholy, almost poignant air to our cowboy's rant, to show that he's scared of something or someone that he doesn't understand and inwardly mourns for what he perceives to be the death of the lifestyle he holds dear, almost as if John Wayne had chosen to write a pop song. Musical color is added by John on harmonium and Johnstone's mandolin, giving it a gentle Old West-movie vibe.

Of course, having the "goddamnit" in the lyrics ensured that it would never be played on radio, and combined with its placement in the middle of side two on the vinyl LP, this track was doomed to be obscure. Shame, because it worked really well at both satire and sympathy, a difficult trick to pull off. Positively Randy Newman-esque.

Come Down in Time

The singer sits alone on a Summer night, and frets about whether or not he's been stood up by a lady who invited him for a rendezvous. Simple song.

But what makes this track exceptional is the accompaniment, featuring oboe by Karl Jenkins, harp by Skaila Kanga, and the ubiquitous strings of Paul Buckmaster, along with upright bass and acoustic guitar, giving it an almost Pentanglish sound and evoking the mood beautifully.

It's a quiet jewel in the Elton John canon.