Skip to main content

The Captain & The Kid

In this episode - The Captain and the Kid . . .

At 76, Elton John may not be able to vocally hit the high notes in Bennie And The Jets. Still, his solo piano renditions put many a classical pianist to shame as his accomplished fingers flow freely over his Yamaha Grand. He will always be Captain Fantastic - “A crazy kid becoming a better man.”

Last night (11/20/2022), while watching Elton’s return to Dodger Stadium, 47 years later, his Farewell Yellow Brick Road, North American tour, streaming on Disney+, feelings of immense gratitude stirred my soul.

The song - Someone Saved My Life Tonight from Captain Fantastic & the Brown Dirt Cowboy brought tears to my eyes. An LP vinyl album that shaped my youth. In 1976 I first experienced Elton John in concert (see Captain Fantastic).

Little did I realize at the time my dream of adult independence from small-town life took root during those impressionable years. Yes, Elton’s music and Bernie’s lyrics shaped the minds of millions of young people, just as our parents echoed the sentiment of the times; “Rock-roll music is the root of all evil.” Really?

As I sat in my living room, astounded that this live concert could be experienced from the comfort of my favorite chair, images of all those albums spinning on a turntable burst into my mind. It was as if I was young again, for only a moment, flooded with emotions of those years long ago that only music can rekindle.

Back then, my interpretation of the lyrics went something like this; When I think of those old street lights, winter nights, the curtains drawn in the bedroom upstairs. Prima donna Lord, you really should’ve been there, sittin’ like a princess perched in your electric chair. Someone saved my life that night, sugar bear; you almost had your hooks in me, didn’t you, dear? Fly away - high away, bye, bye.

Admittedly, one number that would have been worth the price of admission to this concert was the over-the-top production of Funeral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding from the album Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.

Fitted with multiple video screens, Dodger Stadium was transformed into a magical venue; a thunderstorm rolls in, lightning flashed, aerial views of Dodger Stadium DARK, the audience wearing synchronized flashing LED wristbands.

Suddenly, the eerie sound of an organ rises to a crescendo and then drops to complete silence. A solitary piano plays a familiar melody; the crowd begins to wave their arms; Funeral For A Friend - rocks Dodger Stadium. What a spectacular effect!

In 1976 my price for admission to the concert at the Chicago Stadium included; a nine-hour drive (the price of gas was $0.59/gallon), free parking, $9.50 for a ticket, and a few McDonalds’ meals on the road. To be young again. Today’s live events have an average ticket price exceeding $150.00 per person, driving to the venue (cost of gas $6.00/gallon), parking for $50, and staying overnight.

The answer to that elusive question, “Should I make my way out of my home in the woods?” In hindsight, maybe my move to California was inevitable, but unknowingly, someone saved my life that night.

“No, you can’t go back; if you try, it fails
Lookin’ up ahead, I see a rusty nail
A sign hangin’ from it saying Truth for Sale.”

Thank you, Rocket Man and the Brown Dirt Cowboy; through music, lyrics, and the magic of digital streaming, we were more than spectators at a concert . . .

“No lies at all, just one more tale about the Captain and the Kid.”

I’m Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Most Popular of All Time

Paris – the End of Silence

✈️  In this special episode: Paris – the End of Silence Sometimes, connection arrives in the most unexpected form—not through grand gestures, but through a quiet voice carried by technology. In a Paris apartment, I finally understood my family’s words . . . and felt my mother’s presence in every sentence. Since I was a little boy, France has been both a beautiful and frustrating paradox in my life. Every six to nine years, my mother, Mauricette, would take my brothers and me back to La Rochelle to visit our French family. The moment we arrived, the air would fill with a sound I loved but couldn’t share in—the rapid-fire, musical rhythm of French. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would warmly sweep me into hugs and kisses, their words flowing like a lovely melody I couldn’t quite catch. I’d smile brightly, trying to communicate with my eyes and hands. But as soon as we stepped off the plane, my mother and her sister-in-law, Joséan, started talking animatedly. They were gone, chatting h...
2 comments
Read more

Pushing the Pause Button

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...
2 comments
Read more

Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment

In this episode, Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment. Sometimes love waits half a century for its moment — and when it finally arrives, time doesn’t stand still; it disappears. The moment I stepped off the train in Nantes, it felt like time froze. There she was — my cousin Michèle — waiting on the platform, arms waving desperately. When we finally embraced, the fifty years that had passed between us disappeared in an instant. The melody in her voice was the same, but softer than I remembered. We both shed tears of joy that only come from love long overdue. “I’m so happy you are here,” she whispered, her voice trembling.   Thank goodness for the translation app on my phone, because the conversation began immediately — fast, fluid, and unstoppable. The Frenzy of Catching Up As we drove for about an hour to the tiny town of L’Épine on the Island of Noirmoutier, the words kept tumbling out. Michèle and her husband, Alain, are the most gracious hosts — but my new challe...
1 comment
Read more

Our Journey to Avignon

🇫🇷 Lost in Transition: Our Journey to Avignon (Part 1) When everything that can go wrong—does—sometimes grace still finds you. Our Monday morning trip began on the quiet island of Noirmoutier , where salt marshes and sea breezes whisper of simpler days. From there, our early morning drive was uneventful; we arrived at the Nantes station with plenty of time to spare. From Nantes to Paris Montparnasse, everything went smoothly—so we thought, until it didn't. That's when things started to unravel. If you've never traveled the Paris Metro , imagine a vast underground maze pulsing beneath the city—corridors twisting into one another, trains roaring in and out of the dark, staircases that rise and fall like riddles. It's efficient, yes—but only if you know where you're going. We had over an hour and a half to make our next train to Avignon —plenty of time. Or so we believed. We needed to reach the Gare de Lyon station, where our TGV (high-speed train) was headed south...
Post a Comment
Read more