Me

by Elton John

There aren’t many rules in rock and roll, but there are some: follow your gut musical instincts, make sure you read the small print before you sign and, if at all possible, try not to form a band with someone who fucks chickens up the arse and decapitates them. Or even talks about it.

all good rules.

Some people are blessed with the kind of face that looks good with a bald head. I am not one of those people.

I decided to eschew Regency or Palladian decoration in favour of a style known among interior design specialists as Mid-70s Pop Star On Drugs Goes Berserk.

Ray is a fabulous musician, who plays the most inconspicuous instruments in the most conspicuous way imaginable.

So now I was trying to dance as inaudibly as possible with Princess Anne and the Queen – still holding her handbag – while what appeared to be the world’s quietest disco played Bill Haley.

Sometimes, you just have to step up to the plate, even if the plate is miles outside your comfort zone.

words to live by

But most of all, I felt like a coward. It was crazy: I was still terrified of confronting him about the situation and of rocking the boat.

Leather Jackets, you may remember, wasn’t an album so much as an exercise in trying to make music while taking so much cocaine you’ve essentially rendered yourself clinically insane.

It was as if someone had taken the story of me and my dad and written a happy ending for it, instead of what had actually happened in real life.

I honestly think that’s one of the things that tipped Michael Jackson over the edge: he was convinced he could make an album bigger than Thriller, and was crushed every time it didn’t happen.