I suddenly realized, Wow, these guys are writing about the things that I want to write about. People were feeding off that.īut when I heard Music from Big Pink, it was my bolt of lightning from above. And I’ll tell you why-because, up to that point, Elton and I were jobbing songwriters, trying to emulate songs that were currently popular, whether it was psychedelia or things that were inspired by literary works at the time, like Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia. What was it in particular about his songs that was held in such high esteem, especially from British musicians?Įlton and I were hugely influenced by the debut album by the Band, in 1968, Music from Big Pink.

You write about your admiration for Robertson’s work in the Band for Scattershot. Vanity Fair spoke on the phone in mid-August with Taupin about a wide range of subjects, from his early and deeply held love for country music, to the original, intended subject of “Candle in the Wind” (hint: it was not Marilyn), to what’s still left to achieve-if anything-after such a magical, sui generis career. Sancho to Elton’s Don Quixote, the pair have traveled together in tandem, through addiction, weddings, divorces, rumored disagreements (all denied), hundreds of millions of albums sold, plentiful adventures-both high and low-and yet Taupin remained somewhat reluctant over the years to talk at length about the story from his own viewpoint-until now. When it comes to rock big bangs, there are few more arbitrary and improbable, more miraculous, than a 17-year-old Taupin answering a magazine ad in New Musical Express and mailing off a handful of lyrics to Liberty Records, only to have that envelope find its way into the hands of a 20-year-old unknown named Reggie Dwight, still yet to become exalted throughout the world as Elton John. The story of how Taupin and his collaborator of more than 50 years, Elton John, came together is on par with John Lennon’s meeting Paul McCartney at a 1957 Liverpool church fête.

That he’s still not doing as much more than five decades later is a fate that Taupin, now 73, considers himself, amazingly, “lucky.” As Taupin writes in his new memoir, Scattershot: Life, Music, Elton, and Me, out this week from Hachette, “When your former classmates are composed of boys nicknamed Bonehead, Wiggy, and Grunter, it’s pretty much preordained that novelist and playwright aren’t in the cards.” But very few, if any, beyond lyricist and storyteller Bernie Taupin, have been put in charge of incinerating decomposing chickens and, on the side, breaking into condom machines for spare change. Stories abound about famous rock stars having worked odd, menial jobs as they made their way up the greasy ladder to achieving their fame and fortune: Elvis drove a truck for a Mississippi electric company Ringo had a machine apprenticeship at a Liverpool equipment manufacturer Jon Bon Jovi toiled away, for a time, as a door-to-door salesman of newspaper subscriptions.

Impression vanity tabletop only