Elton John’s album, 11-17-70, was recorded live for a WPLJ-FM concert here in New York City. Just days later, me and my crew slapped on our Caswell-Massey patchouli, took the #4 train to 14th Street, and walked to the Fillmore East.

It wasn’t to see Elton, though.

We were Leon Russell fans and Elton was just icing on the cake. We heard the ‘PLJ concert and we were intrigued. The trio’s set list was far more energetic than the introspective tunes on his first album. In our heads, Elton and Bernie Taupin were decent, up-and-coming singer songwriters. Elton had a great voice and played well. We expected, you know, “Your Song.”

The acts that night were to be McKendree Spring, then Elton, then Leon Russell. Well. Elton comes out in a canary yellow tux and rocks out for WAY over his time limit, does multiple encores, and leaves the audience limp and exhausted for poor Leon, who had to race through his set. We were like, WHAT did we just see here?

We followed him through the years and rooted for him through his personal trials and tribulations. Financial disasters. Substance abuse. Shifting tectonic plates in the recording industry.

Fifty years later, guess who’s still standing. Elton. Bloodied but not broken.

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Today, thinking about that WPLJ-FM concert, and the Fillmore East show, and Elton’s career evolution (and mine), I feel a sense of wistfulness. I know, the rains of November will do that to a person’s psyche.

What I do know is, his hard rocking songs are fun and showy, but his ballads — with Bernie’s lyric genius — are timeless.

And what I also know is, on this strange erev-Thanksgiving in The Time of Covid-19, this song of his springs to mind as his finest.

We’re lucky. We’re alive. We’re still healthy. We’re still standing! Stay safe and enjoy. See you on the other side, with a fridge full of leftovers.