Honestly, most casual fans forget Here and There exists. It’s sitting there in Elton John’s massive 1970s discography, sandwiched between the world-dominating Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy and the sprawling, messy Rock of the Westies. It’s a live album, but not the legendary 1970 17-11-70 radio broadcast. It’s also not the glittery, bombastic spectacle people associate with his mid-70s peak. It’s something else entirely. It’s a literal tale of two cities that, for years, felt like a contractual obligation rather than a definitive statement.
Released in 1976, Elton John Here and There captures two distinct nights in two very different locations: London and New York. That’s the "here" and the "there." Simple enough. But the backstory? It’s a lot more chaotic. By '76, Elton was the biggest star on the planet. He was exhausted. He was losing his voice. He was arguably at the height of his "Imperial Phase," yet this album originally felt like a footnote.
If you bought the original vinyl, you only got nine tracks. Just nine! For a guy who was playing three-hour sets and wearing costumes that cost more than a suburban house, a nine-track live album felt like a rip-off. It wasn’t until the 1995 CD reissue that we actually got the full picture of what these shows were like. And boy, were they different.
The London Side: A Royal Nightmare (Sorta)
The "Here" part of the title refers to a charity concert at London’s Royal Festival Hall in May 1974. It was the "Best of British" show, attended by Princess Margaret. You can hear it in the performance. It’s polite. Well, as polite as Elton gets.
He starts with "Skyline Pigeon." It’s gorgeous. Just Elton and his piano. No drums, no Dee Murray on bass, no Nigel Olsson on drums. Just him. It reminds you that before the feathers and the giant glasses, the guy was a prodigy. He plays "Border Song" and "Honky Cat," and it sounds intimate. If you compare this to the New York side, the energy is night and day. In London, he’s a singer-songwriter. In New York, he’s a god.
But there’s a tension in the London recordings. This was a benefit for the Invalid Children's Aid Association. Elton is clearly trying to be "on his best behavior" for the royals in the audience. It’s a fascinating snapshot of a man who was becoming a global icon but was still tethered to the traditional British establishment. He sounds precise. He sounds careful.
The New York Side: Madison Square Garden Madness
Then we flip the record—or skip to the second half of the expanded CD. Now we’re in "There." New York City. Madison Square Garden. Thanksgiving night, 1974.
This is arguably the most famous night in rock history for one specific reason: John Lennon.
By the time Elton hit the stage in New York, he was a different beast than he was in London six months earlier. The band was firing on all cylinders. This was the classic lineup: Davey Johnstone, Dee Murray, Nigel Olsson, and Ray Cooper on percussion. They were loud. They were tight. They were probably a little bit out of their minds on the sheer adrenaline of being the biggest band in the world.
The New York side of Elton John Here and There is where the magic happens. You’ve got "Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding" opening the set, and it’s massive. It’s prog-rock meets stadium pop. The original 1976 release barely scratched the surface of this show, which is a crime against music history.
Why was Lennon there? It was a bet. Lennon had sung on Elton's cover of "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds," and Elton had played on Lennon’s "Whatever Gets You Thru the Night." Elton bet Lennon that if "Whatever Gets You Thru the Night" hit Number 1, Lennon had to join him on stage. Lennon, ever the pessimist regarding his solo commercial appeal, agreed.
The song hit Number 1. Lennon showed up.
The Lennon Tracks: What the Original Album Missed
If you own the original 1976 vinyl of Here and There, you won’t find the Lennon tracks. It’s wild to think about now. One of the most significant live collaborations ever, and it was left off the initial release. Why? Rights issues, mostly. Also, Elton didn't want the live album to just be "The Lennon Show." He wanted it to stand on its own.
When the expanded version finally dropped decades later, we got to hear the roar of the crowd when Lennon walked out. They did three songs:
- "Whatever Gets You Thru the Night"
- "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds"
- "I Saw Her Standing There"
That last one was a dig. Lennon introduced it as a song by an "old estranged fiancé of mine called Paul." The crowd absolutely lost it. Hearing it now, Lennon sounds nervous. His voice is a bit thin at the start, but by the time they hit the chorus of "I Saw Her Standing There," the roof is coming off the Garden. It was Lennon’s last major live performance. He’d never play a full concert again.
Why This Album Is a Turning Point
Most critics view Elton John Here and There as the end of an era. Shortly after these recordings, Elton fired Dee Murray and Nigel Olsson. It was a shocking move. They were the backbone of his sound.
The New York recordings on this album represent the final, glorious gasp of that original Elton John Band at their peak. After this, things got... weird. Rock of the Westies had a harder, more soul-infused sound, but it lacked the melodic perfection of the Goodbye Yellow Brick Road years.
Listening to the track "Take Me to the Pilot" from the New York side, you can hear the transition. It’s funky. It’s aggressive. Ray Cooper’s percussion is everywhere—it sounds like a kitchen being thrown down a flight of stairs in the best way possible. It’s a far cry from the "Skyline Pigeon" opener in London. It shows the duality of Elton John: the sensitive troubadour and the rock-and-roll animal.
Technical Nuance: The Sound of the 70s
Let’s talk about the mix. The original '76 version was produced by Gus Dudgeon. Gus was a perfectionist. Sometimes too much of a perfectionist. Live albums in the 70s often suffered from "sweetening"—going back into the studio to fix bum notes or re-record vocals.
While Here and There has some of that, it remains surprisingly raw for a mid-70s superstar release. You can hear the grit in Elton's voice. He wasn't the pristine tenor of Honky Château anymore. The road was taking its toll. There’s a huskiness in "Rocket Man" that gives the song a weight it doesn't have on the studio record.
In the London set, the piano is the star. It’s bright, percussive, and dominant. In the New York set, the guitars take over. Davey Johnstone’s work on "Binnie and the Jets" (included in the expanded version) is a masterclass in arena rock phrasing. He uses space. He lets the notes hang. He understands that in a place like the Garden, you aren't playing for the front row; you’re playing for the person in the very last seat of the nosebleeds.
Misconceptions About Here and There
People often lump this in with "bad" live albums because of its weird structure. It’s not a cohesive concert experience. You’re jumping between a 2,000-seat hall in London and a 20,000-seat arena in New York. The acoustics change. The atmosphere changes.
But that’s actually its greatest strength.
If you want the "greatest hits" live experience, you go elsewhere. If you want to understand the psychological state of Elton John in 1974, you listen to this. You hear the man who is trying to be a "serious artist" in London, and then you hear the man who has accepted his fate as a flamboyant pop god in New York.
Another misconception? That it was a flop. It actually did decent business, hitting the Top 5 in the US and UK. But it was overshadowed by the sheer volume of material Elton was putting out. In a three-year span, he released Don't Shoot Me I'm Only the Piano Player, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Caribou, Captain Fantastic, and Rock of the Westies. Here and There just got lost in the shuffle.
The Actionable Guide for Fans
If you're going to dive into this, don't bother with the original 9-track version unless you're a vinyl collector who loves the smell of old cardboard. You need the 1995 Mercury/Rocket reissue or the streaming version.
Start with the London side. It’s a Sunday morning listen. It’s calm. "Burn Down the Mission" is a highlight here—it’s soulful and showcases Elton’s gospel influences.
Then, when you’re ready to get hyped, move to the New York set.
- Listen for the Ray Cooper solos. People joke about the guy hitting a tambourine, but his energy on this record is what drives the band.
- Pay attention to the bass lines. Dee Murray was a melodic genius. His work on "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me" (live) is arguably better than the studio version.
- Find the Lennon intro. Even if you aren't a Beatles fanatic, hearing the genuine shock and joy from the NYC crowd when Lennon is introduced is a goosebump-inducing moment.
To really appreciate the Elton John Here and There era, you have to look at the photos from the MSG show. Elton is in the "Donald Duck" suit or the sequined baseball uniform. He’s at his most "Elton." But when you close your eyes and just listen to the audio, you realize the costumes were a distraction. The musicianship was world-class.
The next step is simple: Go to your favorite streaming service and look for the "Expanded Edition." Skip the first few hits you’ve heard a million times and go straight to "Take Me to the Pilot" from the New York show. Turn it up until the speakers rattle. Listen to that transition where the band goes from a tight groove into an all-out jam. That is the sound of a man who owned the world in 1974, and he knew it.
Once you’ve finished the New York set, backtrack to "Skyline Pigeon" from the London set. It’s the perfect comedown. You get the roar and then the whisper. That’s the true legacy of this album—the reminder that behind the spectacle, Elton John was always, first and foremost, a brilliant piano player with a lot on his mind.