Elton John

A Single Man (1978)

1.Shine on Through
2.Return to Paradise
3.I Don't Care
4.Big Dipper
5.It Ain't Gonna be Easy
6.Part-Time Love
7.Georgia
8.Shooting Star
9.Madness
10.Reverie
11.Song For Guy

After the excesses of the previous half-decade, A Single Man arrived in 1978 like a polite, yet a tad unwelcome, knock at the door rather than the expected thunderclap. Elton John, now “retired” in name if not entirely in spirit, re-emerged with an album that was less a comeback than a quiet recalibration. Gone were the flamboyant costumes, the outrageous eyewear, and—perhaps most significantly—Bernie Taupin. In their place: a new lyricist (Gary Osborne), a new producer, and an entirely new band. It was, quite literally, Elton on his own.

And the result? Polished but perplexing. This was not the Elton of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road or even Rock of the Westies. The production is thick—glossy to the point of sluggishness—and the overall tone subdued, as though someone had dimmed the lights in the studio and told everyone to whisper. The cover said it all. Gone was the glitter. In its place: a conservatively dressed Elton in top hat and tails, cane in hand, contact lenses replacing the familiar spectacles. The message was unmistakable. This was a new Elton. More mature, more refined. Or at least, more restrained.

Musically, however, the transformation wasn’t very successful. Much of the album plays like a series of well-meant misfires. Tracks like Big Dipper and Part-Time Love flirt with a kind of theatrical camp, but the production renders them flat and overcooked. Madness and I Don’t Care attempt to push stylistic boundaries but instead veer into the vaguely bewildering. The nadir, unquestionably, is It Ain’t Gonna Be Easy—an eight-minute-plus plod that feels twice as long, wrapped in turgid arrangements and sapped of momentum.

Still, not everything here is without merit. Georgia—warm, melodic, and bolstered by a choir of voices—stands out as one of the album’s more enduring offerings. It was later adopted in promotional campaigns by the state itself, which seems a fitting tribute. The real treasure, however, is the closing track: Song for Guy. A mournful instrumental written in memory of a young messenger boy tragically killed in a motorbike accident, it’s haunting, minimalist, and oddly timeless. One of the few pieces from this album to remain in Elton’s occasional live set, and rightly so.

Credit where it’s due: Gary Osborne’s lyrics were never the real issue. While lacking Taupin’s poetic flourish, Osborne wrote with a kind of clean sincerity that worked well in context. The real problem lay in the studio itself. One can’t help but wonder what might have happened had longtime producer Gus Dudgeon been at the helm. Many of the songs seem halfway to greatness, only to be buried under a layer of sonic varnish.

A Single Man also marks an important behind-the-scenes transition. Around this time, Elton began working with Thom Bell, the Philadelphia soul producer who encouraged him to explore the lower reaches of his vocal range. The effect would not be immediate, but it laid the groundwork for a more nuanced vocal style in the years to come. In the grand sweep of his career, A Single Man might be better viewed as a pause—a breath between acts. It is the sound of an artist searching, recalibrating, and—crucially—trying to carry on. Not with a bang, but with a ballad. Sadly, it would get worse before it got better.

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