Album Review, “Blue Moves” by Elton John

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Album Review, “Blue Moves” by Elton John

There’s a sardonic narrator who has so much humor for blue tangos.  At least, my imagination tries to hint me with its alluring colors as I gaze at this album’s front cover painting, which seems distressing to me while I’m pondering over those empty faces who lie in the fields with great strength of sadness and despair.  Bernie Taupin is Elton’s lyric writer and takes command through his textual beauty to give more than a few ancient hints from the past as broken glass is perhaps stepped on by the album’s fictional narrator, someone who probably lives in the rural countryside with knowledge and visions of urban crime, distress signals, what’s black and white and red all over, 70’s boogie, and narcissistic relationships between vengeful simpletons.  Santa Fe is a constant reminder for the “Boogie Pilgrim” (as one song describes him as such) to let crowds around him do as they must to please themselves at pretending love and he’d rather wish for some celebratory idol to crawl somewhere toward pressure against all music.  Often I listen to albums that don’t have one particular narrator in each; however, to disclose my better description of this sad masterpiece with touch and glittery humor, maybe the ancient word “triste” lets me greatly define the narrator’s gross tone which borders on madness until the intriguing sounds let me forget about tragedy and violence in his stories.  Chaos is a consistent element in the world around him and he adds diminishers to such an environment with helping words of progress.  What’s sad about the progress though, leading to his use of depression and constant kidding which I define as two diminishers or unhelpful praise, is whatever lies ahead of him seems to be the same as things behind him.  There’s hardly context of meaning for past, future, and present.  That’s my gist of the blue album according to this prescriptionist mode of thought and I try to be the guy who is appealed by new streaks of conflict, fresh color, such intake of action as I understand coolness apart from genuine anger.  Feelings of “Blue Moves” tend to bounce off the tracks and melt into my heart before I reach for Coke de Mexico and assume my fluffy earbuds.  Hasn’t it occurred to any critic that Bernie’s sad songs also help lighten up the mood if Elton John truly senses the prestige of low feelings?  “Idol” is a work of poetry that sounds so sweet and yet, since I’ve been a poet about shattered glass and slaughterhouses, there’s awareness in my soul as to the true horror of that poor famous chap.  Let’s think about that night a world-wary man may have about noiseless curtains and arguments with his lady which seem to transcend on the indoor pressure during the onslaught of familial magnitude.  No, I’m not exaggerating without reference.  Demanding beauty is a factor for the loose narrator as more and more lessons are improved by subtle implications, although such expressive lyrics are hard on some of Elton John’s listeners because of the sheer brilliance of triste.  God in of Himself has become a long-existing token in the narrator’s support for insane tunes over matters of despair.  At this moment, literature enthusiasts may try to stop me from relating to a great deal of tears.  Crying is actually mostly unmentioned by the album.  The music album just assumes the tides there would be with a divorced gentleman and I must ask viewers to not run away when the narrator’s horrific destiny is being described by him more and more through spiritual means.  Religion, with whatever pilgrim you may be, depends on lightness and darkness since there’s distinctive shades of grey toward freedom whether it’s agony or glory.  In fact, try to separate agony from glory in this album- you’ll realize you can’t.

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