Songwriters often debate whether dissecting music analytically can hinder creativity. Some fear that peeking behind the curtain will demystify the magic, revealing only mundane mechanics. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Studying a song, especially learning to play it, deepens appreciation and unveils the artistry behind its creation. By immersing yourself in the chords, progressions, and nuances of masterful songwriting, you unlock a treasure trove of inspiration, guiding your own musical journey in exciting new directions.
Let’s delve into a prime example.
Millions have been captivated by Elton John’s 1973 album, “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” and within it, the narrative and sonic richness of “The Ballad of Danny Bailey (1909-34).” If you’re unfamiliar, this song is an essential listening experience for anyone interested in songwriting.
Nestled within this double LP – a collection boasting diverse and exceptional music – “The Ballad of Danny Bailey” stands out as a hidden gem. It’s a testament to brilliant songwriting and imaginative storytelling.
While anyone can intuitively grasp the song’s emotional power, understanding its inner workings unlocks a deeper level of appreciation. Bernie Taupin‘s evocative lyrics paint a vivid historical fiction, perfectly complemented by Elton’s dynamic melody and chord progression – elements we will explore further. But first, let’s unpack the layers within this compelling song.
“The Ballad of Danny Bailey” chronicles the life and demise of a young gangster, presented as a poignant obituary for a figure straddling the line between public enemy and folk hero. In the 1930s, some gangsters did achieve a twisted form of celebrity, their death notices becoming the inevitable epilogue to their notorious exploits.
The song title itself immediately establishes Danny Bailey’s existence within a historical context, explicitly stating his birth and death years. The choice of 1934 as his death year is far from arbitrary, as we’ll soon discover.
Lyrics alone can only convey so much. It’s the singer who breathes life and emotion into the narrative. Elton’s piano introduction, with its repeated, ominous bass notes, sets a somber stage. His vocals enter quietly, respectfully, in fragmented phrases:
“Some punk with a shotgun… killed… young Danny Bailey… in cold blood… in the lobby of a downtown motel.”
This stark opening evokes vivid imagery, perhaps mirroring the demise of John Dillinger, the infamous Depression-era bank robber, gunned down outside Chicago’s Biograph Theater. The single, ghostly rimshot from Nigel Olsson’s snare drum – is this the fatal gunshot echoing? – dramatically punctuates the already transpired event.
The seemingly minor detail of a “motel,” not a “hotel,” subtly underscores Danny’s status. It hints that, even within the criminal underworld, Danny was small-time, unworthy of grander establishments.
The narration intensifies as the eulogist passionately declares:
“There’s not many who knew him the way that we did. Sure enough, he was a wild one but then aren’t most hungry kids?”
Here, Danny is memorialized as a product of circumstance, prompting sympathy for his fate. The line, “I guess the cops won again,” further reinforces this biased portrayal of Danny Bailey as an anti-hero.
A compelling ambiguity arises: Did the “punk with a shotgun” act as a vigilante cop, bypassing formal justice, or was he simply a random criminal inadvertently serving the police’s agenda? Either interpretation fits, yet the glorification of Danny and the disparagement of law enforcement suggest the former scenario as more plausible within the song’s narrative.
For listeners accustomed to the lighter fare of Elton & Bernie’s earlier hits like “Your Song” and “Crocodile Rock,” this song marked a significant thematic shift towards darker territory. While their albums had previously touched on darker themes, these were often album cuts. As Elton’s fame exploded, fans began paying closer attention to the songs beyond the singles. “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” offered a rich tapestry of these darker, more complex narratives.
Speaking of darkness:
“Now it’s all over, Danny Bailey… and the harvest is in” – this haunting opening and closing line of the chorus is devastatingly clever. The “harvest” metaphor suggests a grim collection of young men cut down, victims of a crime wave recently “reaped” by the police. (Historically, notorious American gangsters – Bonnie & Clyde, John Dillinger, Pretty Boy Floyd, and Baby Face Nelson – all met their ends at the hands of law enforcement within a seven-month span in 1934. A truly grim harvest.)
True to their creative process, Bernie penned the lyrics independently before Elton composed the music. The verses exhibit distinct natural cadences, each possessing its own rhythmic identity. This highlights a valuable songwriting tip: when crafting verses, consider writing the melody for the first verse before finalizing subsequent lyrics. This can aid in maintaining a consistent musical and rhythmic framework, especially if commercial appeal is the goal. Elton, however, opted for a more sophisticated approach, slightly less commercially conventional, by adapting the second verse melody to the inherent rhythm of the lyrics. (For another example, listen to the contrasting verse melodies in “Bennie & The Jets,” from the same album.)
There’s no rigid adherence to a consistent rhyme scheme across verses. Bernie intentionally avoids forcing rhymes when it would compromise the narrative’s natural flow. This bold choice lends authenticity to the storytelling, mirroring real-world conversation where perfect rhymes are infrequent. When rhyme is employed, it gains greater impact through its unexpectedness, often using less predictable word pairings.
Taupin masterfully weaves narrative detail into almost every line. In the second verse, we learn, “without Danny Bailey, they’re gonna have to break up our still.” This line reveals Danny’s role: likely a hired enforcer protecting Kentucky moonshiners.
Bernie skillfully employs familiar phrases with subtle twists to enrich his lyrics. He merges “gun-runner” and “young gun” to create the evocative phrase, “A runnin’ gun youngster in a sad, restless age.” This reinvents familiar expressions, imbuing them with fresh, original context. He then cleverly anchors the story in the Prohibition era and the Depression by describing it as “a sad, restless age.” This single line delivers a potent double dose of creative imagery.
Now, let’s return to the musical rollercoaster – or perhaps more accurately, the getaway car – speeding away from the scene.
The verse melody begins as if ascending winding Kentucky backroads in a 1934 Ford Fordor sedan. Starting on a minor chord, Elton sustains it, then ascends a half step to a major chord. This deliberate, measured progression repeats before accelerating upwards in modulation, maintaining the thematic pattern while exploring higher tonal realms.
The band’s entrance mid-verse is somewhat unexpected, establishing a stoic, half-time march – perhaps a musical nod to a funeral procession? – as Dee Murray’s bass line injects tension, scaling upwards in rapid, double-time phrases. By subtly muting downbeats at phrase beginnings, Dee’s bass creates a thrilling off-balance sensation as the getaway intensifies.
At the verse’s end, Elton’s wail of “Oh____!” is a masterclass in vocal dynamics. It glides down, then swings up, falls lower, rises again, and descends further still. These spiraling vocal contours announce the chorus’s arrival in a wave of sound.
The chorus unfolds as rambling rather than repetitive, propelling the escape into new sonic territory, with Del Newman’s string arrangement swirling around the listener. Tension and release are abundant throughout.
While the melody might lack the simplicity of typical hit singles, its symphonic inclinations and elusive tonal center paradoxically enhance its singability. Elton achieves this melodic accessibility despite lyrics that defy conventional pop song structure and meter. While Bernie’s lyrics are brilliant in their own right, it’s Elton’s musical contributions – melody, chords, and overall framework – that elevate the song to extraordinary heights.
Nigel Olssen’s drum fills in the second verse deserve special recognition. He masterfully builds suspense with rolling bursts reminiscent of scattered gunfire.
Equally noteworthy are the phenomenal multi-tracked backing vocals, performed by band members Dee Murray, Davey Johnstone, and Nigel Olsson. When Elton sings “DILLINGER’S DEAD,” the regal chord inversions and the layered “OH!” harmonies that follow evoke the bold headlines of period newspapers announcing the gangster’s demise in massive font, accompanied by a collective sigh of mourning and relief. (The original New York Daily News headline, “DILLINGER SHOT DEAD,” dominated nearly a quarter of the front page.)
Just as impactful is the backing vocalists’ sound as Elton sings, “I guess the cops won again.” Their sustained “ah” abruptly cuts off with an animated “oomp!” The effect is striking. As my brother, Rob, suggested, it sounds like the police dragnet swallowing up the criminals (“AH__OOMP!”).
The final chorus culminates in a soaring, acrobatic wall of “Ahs_,” gently landing on “Ooh.” It subtly echoes the chorus transitions in “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” using these vocal sections to initiate or conclude modulations. Here, the final note fades with a fluttering, descending portamento from the string section.
But then, a twist. It seems our escape veers into an ambush. After a brief pause, the steady ascent resumes with an instrumental verse, becoming a musical soundtrack to the unfolding drama. For another minute and a half, the band and strings vamp forebodingly, intensifying tension as Elton injects percussive, machine-gun keyboard stabs, rhythmically rocking chord clusters in a musical homage to an FBI shootout.
Because, as history dictates, no self-respecting ballad of a gun-toting gangster would be complete without a prolonged hail of bullets – and bodies that “danced in death like a marionette on the vengeance of the law.”
But the in-depth analysis of Elton & Bernie’s “Ticking” must wait for another day.
–Dave Caruso
The Ballad of Danny Bailey (1909-34) by Elton John and Bernie Taupin
Some punk with a shotgun killed young Danny Bailey In cold blood, in the lobby of a downtown motel Killed him in anger, a force he couldn’t handle Helped pull the trigger that cut short his life And there’s not many knew him the way that we did Sure enough he was a wild one, but then aren’t most hungry kids Now it’s all over Danny Bailey And the harvest is in Dillinger’s dead I guess the cops won again Now it’s all over Danny Bailey And the harvest is in We’re running short of heroes back up here in the hills Without Danny Bailey we’re gonna have to break up our stills So mark his grave well `cause Kentucky loved him Born and raised a proper, I guess life just bugged him And he found faith in danger, a lifestyle he lived by A running gun youngster in a sad restless age
