A pounder of the piano by his own admission, Elton John, that unlikeliest of rock stars brings an album with the sublime Tiny Dancer, a gorgeous ballard both pounded and belted out, and the charming Levon, followed by a collection of songs that meander and unfortunately suffer from a lack of focus and precision. The weirdest track has a boy from Pinner imagining himself as a First Nation warrior, singing about his squaw and his tomahawk, which reveals in John and Taupin a tendency to lean towards the musical theatrical and operatic which, in truth, they do not always pull off. But John is always charismatic and gets the music over the line through sheer force of will and unusual talent. Not a classic but not a disappointment either.