Elton John

Don't Shoot Me I'm Only The Piano Player (1973)

1.Daniel
2.Teacher I Need You
3.Elderberry Wine
4.Blues For Baby and Me
5.Midnight Creeper
6.Have Mercy on the Criminal
7.I'm Gonna be a Teenage Idol
8.Texan Love Song
9.Crocodile Rock
10.High Flying Bird
Bonus Tracks:
11.Screw You (Young Man's Blues)
12.Jack Rabbit
13.Whenever You're Ready (We'll Go Steady Again)
14.Skyline Pigeon (Alternate Version)

Following the artistic peak of Honky Château, Elton John’s next studio offering, Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only the Piano Player, presented something of a puzzle. Commercially, it was an unqualified triumph—his first UK No.1 album and a chart-topper in the U.S. as well. Artistically, it occupies a more curious space. While many fans embrace it as another jewel in the crown of Elton’s golden run, others have found it, in retrospect, to be something of a dip—handsomely produced, certainly, but emotionally shallower than its predecessor or the classic to follow.

In terms of format, the album follows the successful Château blueprint closely: recorded again at the Château d’Hérouville, and featuring the classic Elton John Band (Olsson, Murray, Johnstone), with further flourishes of brass, strings, and playful experimentation. Yet something about the collection feels less cohesive, more calculated.

There is, however, no denying the brilliance of its two best-known tracks. Daniel is one of Elton and Bernie Taupin’s most affecting ballads—a meditation on post-war disillusionment disguised in the cloak of a gentle pop melody. Crocodile Rock, by contrast, is pure pastiche—an exuberant homage to the sock-hop era, complete with Farfisa organ and helium-pitched falsetto backing vocals. That both songs emerged from the same pen is testament to the duo’s stylistic dexterity.

Unfortunately, the remainder of the album rarely matches that high-water mark. Elderberry Wine. complete with horn section, tries for wry barroom charm but never quite settles, while I’m Going to Be a Teenage Idol, though mildly self-aware in its lyric, is musically pedestrian. Midnight Creeper is also a bit forgettable, offering neither musical novelty nor lyrical bite. More problematic are the attempts at satire. Texan Love Song aims for a tongue-in-cheek skewering of American conservatism but veers perilously close to caricature. Blues for My Baby and Me, despite a pleasant melody, introduces Davey Johnstone on sitar—a choice more puzzling than effective. The orchestral Have Mercy on the Criminal, often cited by fans as a highlight, overreaches emotionally and suffers from an erratic tempo and an overwrought arrangement. Elton continues to perform it live, though it remains one of his more divisive cuts.

On a positive note, Teacher I Need You is a modest success—a playful, 1950s-flavored toe-tapper that at least doesn’t take itself too seriously. The closing track, High Flying Bird, is quite majestic and pleasant, and one wonders if had been better received had it not been featured at the end of a rather mediocre run of tunes. By album’s end, one is left with the impression of a gifted team slightly treading water.

Visually, Don’t Shoot Me marked a turning point: Elton’s emergence as a theatrical figure began to crystallize, with the liner notes and accompanying booklet showcasing his increasingly flamboyant fashion sense, trademark spectacles, and a growing fondness for stage excess. The transformation from introspective songwriter to rock icon was underway. The album's success is undeniable. But taken on artistic grounds, Don’t Shoot Me feels transitional—less a definitive statement than a clever placeholder. It’s Elton in mid-metamorphosis: half balladeer, half showman, not yet settled, but still capable of brilliance.

Perhaps, as the saying goes, one had to be there.

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