The Weird Wonder Of Elton John Live In Wollongong

This month Elton John touched down for a very different kind of Australian tour. He didn’t play Sydney, and he didn’t play Melbourne — instead, Captain Fantastic worked his way through regional centres like Mackay, Cairns, Hobart and Wollongong. South Coast native DAVID JAMES YOUNG was there to take Elton’s unexpected ‘Gong debut in.

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It’s easy to spot them.

Anyone who’s frequented public transport can pick them kilometres away: who’s going to what. When the Olympic Park service was flooded with band shirts and shorts, it meant Big Day Out was afoot. The same came to pass for Soundwave, albeit with more curse words scrawled across the shirts. Were the passengers to bypass clothing on their top halves pretty much entirely, it meant some form of dance festival was going down — take your pick, really.

So too, on the South Coast line, is it easy to pick those headed to WIN Stadium for the sell-out event marketed, breathtakingly, as “once in a lifetime.” The ironed polo shirts. The beige slacks. The sensible footwear. This unruly mob is getting it on, and they ain’t leaving until nine in the evening — with hopes to be promptly back in bed before the hour hits double digits.

“This, for many, is one of the big cultural events to hit the city this year — if not the event”

Alright, so they may not seem your average gig-going thrillseekers. Still, there’s murmured excitement as they fill out the complimentary bus service taking them from the train station down to the other end of town — one even lets out an “ALRIGHT!” to no-one in particular as the bus makes its exit.

It’s a scene down at WIN Stadium. Police have sectioned off a few different streets surrounding the area. The nearby McDonald’s is practically heaving. Local eateries are making the most of the foot traffic and, purely from a stroll past, seem to be making a killing.

The local news team and the local radio station are busy out the front, grabbing vox pops and B-roll footage of the thousands entering the venue. Even a nearby coffee shop has gotten in on the fun: “You’re gonna need a coffee if you’re gonna Crocodile Rock all night!” they’ve scrawled in chalk on a sign pointing potential customers in their direction.

This, for many, is one of the big cultural events to hit the city this year — if not the event.

While places like Rad and the Uni Bar have kept live music going admirably on the smaller scale, it feels like a long time since a true megastar hit Wollongong — perhaps not since Bob Dylan, the same man who opened the Entertainment Centre back in 1998, made his return a few years ago.

By the time 5:30pm rolls around and the hosts of the local commercial radio breakfast show arrive on-stage for some awkward banter, the stadium is comfortably three-quarters full. Their introduction of opening act Busby Marou as “the boys from Rockhampton” immediately reminds one of Kate McCartney’s retort to such branding from Get Krack!n – they are grown men in their 30s, mate. Still, we don’t hear from them for the rest of the night, which is a relief.

Thomas Busby — not to be confused with the Luca Brasi guitar-slinger of the same name — elatedly testifies to the audience that he and counterpart Jeremy Marou have “the best job in the world” in opening for this tour. There’s an element to it where you’d wonder why that would be so — pouring your heart out and playing music to the low hum of conversation and wandering to the bar; putting yourself out there to polite applause and overwhelming indifference.

It does, however, make you think about the scale and the grandiosity of this level of performance – and, in turn, how remarkable it would be for a couple of humble singer-songwriters from Queensland.

Watching the two in action also serves as a timely reminder of them being one of the most underrated, hard-working acts on the circuit — never far from a national tour, always putting in effort where it counts and having a slew of genuinely lovely harmony-laden folk/roots songs in there to show for it. They may have been performing to a largely-inattentive crowd, but if they were able to turn even one amongst the masses into a fan then surely the whole thing was worth it.

It’s 6:30 on the dot when the lights go out and the band emerges one by one — save for the man of the hour. He takes his time. He builds it up. Then, like that, he emerges in a shiny black-and-gold suit with a jacket adorned with his long-serving nickname: Captain Fantastic.

The band trumpets his arrival the best way they know how, kicking into ‘The Bitch Is Back.’ The elation hits and it doesn’t die down for a moment through the tour-de-force of the first five songs — the pounding piano of ‘Bennie And The Jets,’ the wistful balladry of ‘Daniel,’ the crucially-underrated ‘Take Me To The Pilot.’

It brings up a key point concerning the audience’s response to this set: without fail, every song garners a standing ovation. Not a complete one — imagine curating ten thousand people to do that at the same time 22 times over — but at least a sizable portion of the crowd greats the conclusion of each number by leaving their seat and applauding. There’s not many artists alive that could generate that kind of elation simply by finishing a song — as it turns out, the man born Reginald Dwight is one of them.

Across over two hours, we’re treated to just about every big Elton song there is short of The Lion King soundtrack. ‘Rocket Man’ is every bit the grandiose sing-along you’d expect it to be, complete with a blistering piano solo introduction from Elton himself that breaks into ‘Waltzing Matilda’ in the middle of it.

‘Tiny Dancer’ is also a complete joy, receiving one of the best crowd responses of the night. That’s not even mentioning all of the instruments dropping out except for the drums during the chorus of ‘Crocodile Rock,’ leaving us to fill in with the loudest “la-la-la-la-la”s known to humankind.

Some of the best moments of the show arrive, however, in slightly deeper cuts than your average. ‘Levon,’ for instance, absolutely brings the house down with its multiple solos, free-form jamming and throwback bar-room feel — a near impossibility for a stadium show.

There’s also ‘Your Sister Can’t Twist (But She Can Rock & Roll),’ which is sandwiched between ‘Crocodile’ and the song that actually follows it on the Goodbye Yellow Brick Road LP, ‘Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting.’ Going up against two heavyweights might give you the impression that people will lose interest, but those that have gotten out of their seats to dance for the prior song have plenty of reason to stay up and swinging. Full credit to John and his entire ensemble for pacing things so well that they are able to bring the main set home in such classic fashion.

With one last ‘Candle in the Wind,’ the floodlights come on and the masses are trudged out. One man stands defiantly on the ramp, looking around. “Why is everyone leaving?” he bellows. “He hasn’t played ‘Goodbye Yellow Brick Road’!” It’s quickly pointed out to our hero that were John were to play everything people wanted to hear across his 30 (!) studio albums, we’d probably be here until next week. Rather than serve as a deterrent, the very notion comes across instead as even more exciting.

Maybe next time. Or in another lifetime, perhaps. For now, there’s this — and this is more than enough.

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David James Young goes to over 200 shows a year; and he’s still standing. He also tweets at @DJYwrites.