Showing posts with label Candle in the Wind. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Candle in the Wind. Show all posts

Saturday, October 05, 2013

Lessons Learned Along the Yellow Brick Road



I suppose many people think of Princess Diana and her death in 1997 when they hear "Candle in the Wind," even if they hear the version that was released on Elton John's "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" album 40 years ago today.

It just seemed so perfect for Diana, a remarkable yet fragile individual whose death truly shocked the world. All John had to do was rewrite a few lyrics, and the tribute was complete.

In fact, you really had to be familiar with John's recording history to know that it was a recycled song. I don't think "Candle in the Wind" was a hit on that album so who would remember it nearly a quarter of a century later — other than those who bought the album in the early '70s?

There were quite a few of those. It's possible that Diana was among them. The double album went gold within a month of its release — for a double album, that was no mean feat — and, in the intervening years, it has been certified platinum several times over.

But it did so mostly on the strength of three hit singles — "Bennie and the Jets," "Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting" and "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road." Other songs on the album were modest hits, I guess, but those were the big three.

When most people think of that time in John's career, I guess they think most often of his version of "Pinball Wizard," which was featured in the 1975 movie based on The Who's rock opera, "Tommy."

The soundtrack for that movie was quite popular, and John's contribution was one of the hit singles from it. He didn't write it, of course, but he performed it. I remember hearing it on the radio practically constantly for weeks.

But that album was still two years in the future when John released "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road."

Or maybe they think of "Rocket Man," which was on a different album.

My initial memory of "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" is different than it is for most people, I am sure.

I was a child when it came out and hadn't even heard of it until one night when I went with my mother to visit a family friend, the son of one of her best friends. He was suffering from a brain tumor (his cancer later went into remission, then returned and, eventually, killed him). Anyway, he was at home, apparently between stays in the hospital, and we went by for a visit.

Mom instructed me to get him alone while she chatted with her friend and find out what we could give him as a get–well present so that is what I set out to do.

I knew I couldn't ask him straight out, that I had to be sneaky so I just started chatting with him. He had a lot of records in his room, and I asked him if there was a record he didn't have that he wanted — and he mentioned "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road."

As I say, I had never heard of it, knew nothing about it — but, before I could ask any questions, he told me it was a double album.

And I was convinced that Mom would never buy it. Double albums were a really big deal in those days. I was convinced that Mom wouldn't spend what I thought was a small fortune on a double album.

But she did.

In hindsight, that probably should have been a hint as to just how serious his condition really was. But I was a child, and my exposure to death was still limited. I guess I didn't believe anyone close to my age could die. I know, it's ridiculous.

When you're young, I guess, you really don't understand these things.

Thursday, August 05, 2010

Goodbye, Norma Jean



It was 48 years ago today that Marilyn Monroe was found dead in her home in Brentwood, Calif.

Few people have been as mysterious in death as Marilyn. She was beautiful in life — and because of that, I suppose, a lot of people wrote her off, dismissed her as a dumb blonde — but she was much more than that. Dumb blonde was a role she played, and she played it well, although it lacked depth. Sometimes, it even lacked a name.

She had a lot of talent. I guess most people think of her in comedic roles, such as the ones she had in "Some Like It Hot" and "The Seven–Year Itch." And she did excel in those roles — at least, as much as the roles themselves would allow.

But on rare occasions she got to stretch her wings and take on heavier roles. Her final role, as Roslyn Taber in John Huston's "The Misfits," offered a glimpse of what might have been if she hadn't died on that August night in 1962 — but instead had lived into her middle age, even if it didn't include the husband and children she craved.

Cast opposite her childhood idol, Clark Gable, in what turned out to be the final film appearance for both, I felt Monroe delivered a solid performance, as did Gable and the rest of the cast — Montgomery Clift, Thelma Ritter, Eli Wallach. I happened to see the film recently — for the first time in several years — and felt impressed by things that wouldn't have been clear to anyone when the crew completed filming.

Mainly, I guess, it struck me that, while the film was telling the story of the end of the old West, it was also the film obituaries of Monroe and Gable — and it had some statements to make about their careers. I guess, when you get right down to it, neither of their careers turned out the way they had hoped, even though both were idolized by millions.

And that's a shame, I think, because both had more talent than the body of their work would indicate.

For them, "The Misfits" may have been an apt title for the final chapter of their careers.

Elton John's song, "Candle in the Wind," also summed up Monroe's complicated relationship with the world — and perhaps her disappointments as well. Strangely enough, that title was one of the first things that popped into my head when Princess Diana was killed.

I had no idea at the time that it would become synonymous with that tragic time for millions the world over. It just seemed appropriate to me. And then, of course, after a few adjustments to the lyrics, it did become Princess Diana's anthem.

But it was Marilyn's song first. And, no matter how many times I hear Sir Elton sing about "England's rose," I will always associate that song with Marilyn.

Excuse me. Norma Jean.