Ever since 2001's Songs from the West Coast, Elton John and his longtime collaborator, Bernie Taupin, have been deliberately and unapologetically chasing their glory days of the early '70s, but nowhere have they been as candid in evoking those memories as they are on 2006's The Captain & the Kid, the explicitly stated sequel to 1975's masterpiece Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy. That record was an autobiographical fantasia of John and Taupin's early years -- the days when they were struggling to make their mark, right up till their glorious success -- and the idea behind this album is to tell the story of those salad days, which not only isn't a bad idea at all -- it's clever and well suited for John, the most self-consciously unautobiographical of all major rock artists -- but fits right into Elton's desire to make records like he used to; after all, if he's trying to sound like the way things used to be, he might as well sing about the way they used to be, too. And The Captain & the Kid is nothing if not a proudly nostalgic piece of work bearing no modern touches; even the synths that occasionally color this country-ish rock are old fashioned analog synths. It sounds like an dream project on paper, but like a lot of dream projects, The Captain & the Kid doesn't quite live up to its lofty ideals. Part of the problem is that John has patterned the music not after Captain Fantastic -- which lived up to its glamorama title through intense flights of camp and glitz that helped give its narrative a theatrical flair, not to mention a hell of a lot of color -- but after the stripped-down, country-tinged pop and rock of Tumbleweed Connection and Honky Chateau. That is the sound at the core of most of his best music of the early '70s, but it's not necessarily the best choice for this album, since it doesn't quite fit with the original Captain Fantastic or the gaudy story of their success; it's a tale that calls for bright neon colors, and everything about this album is muted and tasteful. It might not quite seem like what a Fantastic sequel should be -- in fact, it seems more like a sequel to its direct predecessor, 2004's Peachtree Road -- but that's hardly a bad thing. Like that album and Songs from the West Coast before it, The Captain & the Kid is a sharp, professional piece of work by sharp professionals conscious of their past and no longer wishing to rest on their laurels, so they're consciously evoking their best work without quite recycling it. They might not hit their mark directly, but they get close enough -- it may be a little self-conscious and the production is a shade too clean, but the performances are warm and intimate, so this music feels right even if it doesn't necessarily feel exactly like Elton's '70s heyday. And the more familiar this song cycle becomes, the easier it is to admire the craft behind it, particularly in individual moments like the slow build on "Wouldn't Have It Any Other Way (NYC)," or how "Tinderbox" hearkens back to "Somebody Saved My Life Tonight," or the lightness of "I Must Have Lost It on the Wind," or the lazy blues of "Old 67," or how "The Captain and the Kid" brings to mind not Tumbleweed Connection but Billy Joel's approximation of that album on Piano Man. So, no, The Captain & the Kid isn't quite the second coming of Captain Fantastic, but it's hardly a cash grab by an aging diva -- in other words, it's no Basic Instinct 2. John's intentions are pure and even if he doesn't quite make an album as good as his '70s work, it does stand alongside that work nicely -- it's clear that he and Taupin are really trying, and it's far better to have albums like this and Peachtree Road that fall short of the mark but nevertheless get close than to have an endless series of well-produced but empty records like The One and Made in England. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Elton John returned to the sound and aesthetic of his classic early-'70s work with 2001's Songs From the West Coast, finding critical acclaim, if not much commercial success. Not that the lack of sales greatly bothered Elton -- in many interviews, including one with Entertainment Weekly the week before Peachtree Road was released in November 2004, he claimed he was "disappointed" that it just barely went gold, but he was tired of making "uneven" records. John wasn't merely doing publicity: Peachtree Road proves that he's back to making good, solid records focused on songs, not hits, the way he did at the outset of his career. Since this is an album by a veteran, not an artist on the rise, it doesn't have the sense of discovery, or the hunger, that the early records still retain, and the production -- the first self-production by John with no collaborators -- is a little cleaner and crisper than the rich, warm sound of the late Gus Dudgeon (to whom this record is dedicated), who helmed such masterworks as Tumbleweed Connection. This means Peachtree Road is about craft, both in the writing and recording, which also means that it's a grower, with each song sounding stronger, better with each spin. While the sound of the record is bright and polished, this album makes few concessions to radio: this is certainly adult pop, but it never panders to adult contemporary radio, and the music is a little too rugged and sturdy to fit alongside the stubbornly sweet sounds of 21st century MOR. Which is precisely the point, of course: Elton has consciously returned to the reflective singer/songwriter template of the early '70s, both in his writing and production. Not that this is as lush as Elton John or country-tinged as Tumbleweed Connection -- "Answer in the Sky" recalls the high-flying disco of "Philadelphia Freedom" quite deliberately, and "They Call Her the Cat" finds a halfway point between "Honkey Cat" and "The Bitch Is Back" -- but it fits alongside those albums quite nicely because the focus is on songs, not trying to have hits. These songs may not rival his standards, but they're in the same tradition, and there's not a bad song in the bunch, resulting in a sturdy, satisfying record that proves that the comeback on Songs From the West Coast was no fluke and, hopefully, this latter-day renaissance for Elton will not be short-lived either. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Throughout his songs for The Road to El Dorado, Elton John hinted at his classic sound of the early '70s, but it's still a refreshing surprise to find him largely returning to that sound on his 2001 album, Songs From the West Coast. It was easy to think that John wasn't interested in writing like this anymore, given not just his continued success, but the ease with which he was crafting pleasant adult contemporary records. There are still elements of that on Songs From the West Coast -- a few of the ballads are a little too even-handed, and since this is a modern recording, it lacks the resonant warmth of such classics as Honky Chateau and Tumbleweed Connection. Still, this is the richest, best record he's released in a long time, an album where it feels like a hit single is secondary to the sheer pleasure of craft, whether it's crafting a song or an album. And this is an album that flows easily and naturally, setting the mood with the story sketch "The Emperor's New Clothes" and then heading in a number of scenic directions. Of these, "American Triangle," his elegy for Matthew Shepard, will likely receive the most attention, but the most interesting are songs like the bluesy "The Wasteland," "Ballad of the Boy in the Red Shoes," which recalls the Tumbleweed epics, the neo-Captain Fantastic tune "Dark Diamond," the soulful closer "This Train Don't Stop There Anymore," and "Birds," a terrific, spare, rolling country-rocker. His songwriting hasn't been this diverse or consistent since the early '80s, and he hasn't made a record better than this in years. No, Songs From the West Coast won't make you forget Tumbleweed Connection, but it often recalls those peaks, which, frankly, is enough. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
It's hard to imagine the wondrous spectacles that were Elton John shows in the ‘70s. Decked out in the kind of campy dress that would make a drag queen call the fashion police, Elton pranced and danced across the stage like he owned it -- because he did. But, alas, the ‘80s and a monstrous coke habit came calling, and when they left John was never the same performer or singer again. What was once fun and camp somehow became tacky and the singer seemed hopelessly out of it. This CD, taken from a sold-out weekend stand at Madison Square Garden in October 2000, is his bid to capture that old live magic for the younger types who missed it the first time around. Through the course of 17 tracks the artist huffs, puffs, wheezes, sputters, and does everything in his power to find that once unbridled energy. Does he? No, not really. But he does play nearly every major hit he's had in the process which, when you realize how many there are and how good they are, is one hell of a consolation prize. The cover, which depicts John decked in a white suit and surrounded by bananas and the like, doesn't do much to nix the tacky tag, but the music is, thankfully, better than its packaging. He also pulls several rabbits out of his hat in the form of Bryan Adams (who guests on "Sad Songs"), Mary J. Blige (who duets on "I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues"), and, most amazingly, Kiki Dee, who rips into "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" in a way that Rupaul could only dream of. No, he hasn't recaptured that ‘70s magic, but the melodies are still great and you'll still know every word. ~ Steve Kurutz, All Music Guide
Given that his collaboration with lyricist Tim Rice on the Disney animated film The Lion King was Elton John's most popular and acclaimed work of the '90s -- not only topping the charts, but inspiring a Broadway musical -- it made perfect sense for John to find another project for him and Rice. As it turns out, it was another animated film. This time, it was for Dreamworks, the Spielberg-Geffen-Katzenberg studio that competed with Disney's animated division by offering intelligent, distinctive animated alternatives to Disney's occasionally formulaic work. The film John and Rice wrote songs for was The Road to El Dorado, a contemporary Hope-and-Crosby-styled adventure featuring the voices of Kevin Kline and Kevin Branagh. Since it was a fairly straight-ahead story, it didn't really lend itself to music the way The Lion King did. Yes, characters still sang songs within the film itself, but The Lion King's music seemed organic, an outgrowth of setting and character. With an adventure like The Road to El Dorado, the songs don't fit as naturally into the scheme of things. To the credit of John and Rice, they do their very best, crafting a song-score that is, in and odd way, as classicist as the film itself. However, in this case, "classicist" means a classic Elton John record, not an old-fashioned movie musical. Where The Lion King, with its vague African underpinning, felt as if it was designed for the film itself, the music on The Road to El Dorado never quite evokes the South America of the film. It does hit the right emotional notes for the story, however, with such songs as the fist-pumping, anthemic "El Dorado," the rolling narrative "The Trail We Blaze," the wonderfully wry, bossa-nova-flavored duet with Randy Newman "It's Tough to Be a God," and "Someday Out of the Blue (Theme From El Dorado)," which feels like the perfect song to play over closing credits. Other moments work well, such as the driving "16th Century Man" or the lightly trippy "Trust Me," but they don't quite feel of piece with a soundtrack, and perhaps that's the problem with The Road to El Dorado -- it feels more like a collection of songs than a soundtrack or song score, sort of like a classic Elton John record, then. That's hardly a bad thing, but it may disappoint listeners looking for The Lion King, Part Two. Well, that's their loss, since even though it's flawed -- a couple of tunes sound a little bit pat -- it's a solid latter-day Elton John record, more enjoyable than many of his official albums of the late '80s and '90s. Musically, it's varied, the songs are strong, and Rice's lyrics are pretty clever. If it doesn't have the cinematic sweep of The Lion King or thereby its wide popularity, so be it. In many ways, it's a more satisfying work at least for hardcore fans of Elton John. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Elton John might not seem like the obvious selection to score an Albert Brooks film -- after all, Elton is flamboyant and Brooks is all about understatement. However, Brooks' The Muse is a hollywood farce starring Sharon Stone, who is nearly as big a diva as Elton. And maybe that's why The Muse is such a delightful little score. John's title track is a solid, if not particularly memorable, exercise in late '90s mid-tempo adult contemporary craftsmanship (the additional remix by hitmaker Jermaine Dupri isn't all that different from the original mix), but the majority of the album is devoted to the wonderful, lighthearted, orchestrated score from John. It's never deep, but it's nimble, clever, and engaging, even when taken on its own terms, apart from the film. It's a wholly successful return to scoring for John. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
The Lion King proved to be one of Elton John's most successful projects -- which is quite an achievement for one of the most successful rockers in history. Given its level of popularity, it's only logical that John would re-team with his Lion King collaborator Tim Rice. Perhaps to some it was surprising that they adapted Verdi's Aida as their next project, but it made sense -- Rice's background was in show tunes and John's songs tended to sound like show tunes. Hence, they were a perfect pair to modernize Aida for the Great White Way -- at least in theory. In practice, their collaborations sound like soft rock and adult contemporary tunes, especially the way they're presented here. None of the songs on Aida are performed in the order they are in the show, nor are they performed in character. However, they are performed by a variety of different vocalists, including John, Sting, the Spice Girls, Lenny Kravitz, Shania Twain, LeAnn Rimes, James Taylor, Janet Jackson and Tina Turner, plus Heather Headley, the only member of the cast to be featured on this record. As such, the album doesn't feel like a show -- it feels like an afternoon of adult contemporary radio. This isn't a bad thing, since John is a virtuoso of the form, and many of his contributions here are worthy (often better than his Lion King work) and all the featured players do them justice. Still, Aida feels incomplete, quite possibly because it is structured as a various-artists album, not a cast recording -- which is really what you want when you want to listen to cast recordings. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
The Big Picture finds Elton John in strong form, turning in a by-now-predictable collection of ballads and pop songs designed to appeal to the adult contemporary audience. The difference is inspiration. With Made in England, John and his collaborator Bernie Taupin showed signs of life, and they continue that winning streak here. There may be nothing new on The Big Picture, but it's well-crafted professional pop, demonstrating John's knack for catchy pop hooks and his way with a ballad. As with any latter-day John album, hits like "Something About the Way You Look Tonight" are balanced out by some filler, but the key to the album is how album tracks like "Recover Your Soul," "If the River Can Bend," and "The Big Picture" carry emotional and melodic weight. It's a solid effort from one of pop's most reliable artists. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide