If ever there was an unquestionable ear, Elton John has it.
Who else, this many years and albums into his career, can release a record such as “Peachtree Road” and tour it with the undying enthusiasm and bottomless passion his music requires?
At his near-capacity show at the Pepsi Center on Tuesday, John worked the audience like a master songman, weaving in and out of his esoteric catalog with the skill and cunning only someone of his experience and stature could pull off.
But it was “Peachtree Road” that got the opening slot. John, playing without an opening act, allowed the new music to fill that role. And backed by a seven-person gospel choir, he pulled off 45 minutes of new music he co-wrote with songwriter Bernie Taupin.
And from the pop-gospel of “Porch Swing in Tupelo” and “Answer in the Sky” to the crafty balladry of “Freaks in Love” and “All That I’m Allowed,” he presented a powerful mini-set that contained all of John’s trademarks while still showing his probing curiosity for new territory.
“Bernie and I have always been fans of country-western music,” he said before launching into “Turn the Lights Out When You Leave.” But with John, the track wasn’t all that country. His robust voice overpowered the country-politan composition, and his exact keyboards were anything but swingy. But it was perfect, because John has made a career out of breaking the rules.
Later, he talked about his sobriety of three years and how he’s not surprised he never maintained a relationship during his wild years of booze and drugs.
“There’s nothing wrong with drinking, but I can’t do it,” he said before dipping into the new ballad “My Elusive Drug.”
After his set of the new stuff, John indulged the crowd with an elaborate string of standards. He started with a raucous “Bennie and the Jets,” and he swerved and swiveled through “Daniel,” “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues,” “I’m Still Standing” and “Rocket Man,” and he only lost his way once.
He drew “Rocket Man” into a jammy bender that was great for about 10 minutes. But then it kept going. And going. He was better when he kept it simple-chic, as in “Sad Songs (Say So Much)” and “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me,” both of which received creative but still controlled live translations.
The cheesy lights above the stage – think early-’90s screensavers – were obnoxious. And it was sad to hear John’s secondary percussionist take over the soaring high notes in the monumental chorus of “Tiny Dancer.” You got the impression that if he could have sang those, he would have.
