Elton John's discography, ranked

The bottom dropped out with this 1979 disco debacle on which John provided only the vocals. The LP kicks off with an eight-minute cover of Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode" and somehow gets worse from there. Peter Bellotte, best known for his collaborations with Giorgio Moroder, largely took the songwriting reins and failed John at every turn.

John was, by his own candid admission, in the throes of a nasty cocaine habit when he recorded this dreadful album, so the less said about it the better. It’s worth noting that he believes the only semi-successful single off the LP, “Heartache All Over the World," is the worst song he’s ever recorded.

This is another early ‘80s misfire notable only for the inclusion of “Elton’s Song," a somber ballad about a gay teenage boy who’s fallen hopelessly in love with another boy. Given the title and intimate arrangement (keyboardist James Newton Howard is the only other musician to play on the track), it was an unmistakably personal gesture, which, sadly, caused the song and its accompanying video to be banned from the airwaves. 

The last LP to feature the “Elton John Band” (guitarist Davey Johnstone, bassist Dee Murray, and drummer Nigel Olsson) is a step down from “Jump Up!” and “Too Low for Zero." Whereas the last two albums felt like John was finding his niche as an ‘80s pop musician (which for some was a betrayal they’d never forgive), “Breaking Hearts” is a pretty thorough surrender to the soft rock format. “Sad Songs (Say So Much)” was a huge hit and is probably your mother’s favorite Elton John song.

After the artistically successful “Made in England” experiment, John brought producer Chris Thomas back into the fold for another LP full of adult contemporary compromise. Typically, even the worst John album yields one song of promise, if not greatness, but there’s nothing here. The big hit, “Something About the Way You Look Tonight," is a mawkish throwaway. This was John’s last studio LP for five years, and thank God. He’d lost his muse.

Most of the old “Elton John Band” was out, but producer Gus Dudgeon was back for the first time since “Blue Moves” and this is…better than “Blue Moves”? The Cold War ballad “Nikita” is classic John/Taupin, while “Shoot Down the Moon” would’ve made a great James Bond theme had the drums kicked in on the second verse — or at all. (It lost out to Duran Duran’s “A View to a Kill”.) This is a great sounding album, but for the most part John’s going through the soft rock motions.

John tried to recharge his creative batteries by teaming up with a new lyricist (Gary Osborne) and producer (Clive Franks), and it’s not quite the disaster it was made out to be at the time. The hooks are simple and the lyrics hopelessly simplistic, but this is definitely a livelier John than we heard on the previous mope-fest, “Blue Moves." The best song is the closer, “Song for Guy," which, not coincidentally, is an instrumental.

This is technically a comeback LP, if only because a 40-minute-long test pattern would’ve been more pleasing to the ear than the badly botched “Victim of Love." John reunited with Taupin for the album’s best tracks (“Chasing the Crown” and “Two Rooms at the End of the World”), but the rest is totally uninspired. This was the beginning of a rough decade for John. 

Like a musical Babe Ruth, John boldly called his shot with this comeback album and grounded out softly to short. The sing-songy “I Don’t Wanna Go On With You Like That” hit the top of Billboard’s Adult Contemporary charts, but it’s the worst kind of earworm. The best tracks by far are “Town of Plenty” and “Poor Cow," with honorable mention going to the puzzling song-sequel “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters, Part Two."

John returned to the studio after a four-year layoff (during which he went to rehab) and enjoyed his biggest Billboard chart success since “Too Low for Zero." While it’s nice that sales were brisk, only the title track and “The Last Song” (a touching tribute to the recently deceased Freddie Mercury), leave much of an impression. Otherwise, it’s more of the same adult contemporary.

The burnout is evident on this moody 1976 double LP, which feels a little bit like John’s “The Secret Life of Plants." John and Taupin seem to be straining for inspiration, and while they can’t help but hit the bull’s-eye on occasion (“Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word” and “Cage the Songbird” are standouts), there’s little worth listening to here. The creative duo who had produced some of the biggest hits of the 1970s briefly parted ways the following year.

Fans who missed the raucous, up-tempo Elton John on “Captain Fantastic” got him back in spades with “Rock of the Westies." This album verily reeks of 1975, but it’s a fun assortment of songs that, if nothing else, provide a gaudy highlight for master percussionist Roy Cooper (particularly on the cruise-ship standard “Island Girl”). You can hear “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” John raring to breakout on this album (he recorded his duet with Kiki Dee the following year), which…well, that’s just where he needed to go at the time, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

John paid tribute to his 1960s R&B heroes on this well-intentioned but horrendously over-produced album that slammed the door shut on a brutal decade for the musician. Some of the songs from this session, particularly “Sacrifice” and “Stones Throw from Hurtin,’” have fared better when reinterpreted by other artists. If John were to ever re-record an entire LP, this would be the one to take back to the shop.

John’s best LP since “Rock of the Westies” is half-comprised of Taupin collaborations, and, not so shockingly, they’re the best of the lot. After several albums of uninspired soft rock (and one disastrous flirtation with disco), John finally found his place in the ‘80s pop landscape and most importantly started to act his age. Perhaps this newfound maturity had something to do with the death of his friend John Lennon, whom he eulogizes on the heartbreaking “Empty Garden (Hey Hey Johnny)." 

John took over the production duties for this easygoing folk-rock LP that plays like a deeply lived-in echo of “Tumbleweed Connection." It’s the first John album in years that doesn’t feel obliged to produce a hit single. This is Elton John, and these are the songs. Take them or leave them. Unlike most late-in-the-day LPs from iconic songwriters, John sounds like he still enjoys making music.

John followed the artistic comeback of “Jump Up!” with the smashing commercial resurgence of “Too Low for Zero," which went platinum thanks to the one-two Billboard punch of “I’m Still Standing” and “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues." Taupin was finally back as John’s full-time lyricist, and producer Chris Thompson seemed perfectly in stride with his mercurial collaborator. Unfortunately, aside from the zippy “Kiss the Bride," the other songs don't quite reach the heights of the album's breakout hits.

Having enjoyed his collaboration with T-Bone Burnett on “The Union” (his 2010 team-up with Leon Russell), John decided to bring in the legendary musician to produce “The Diving Board," another quasi-back-to-basics LP that challenges the songwriter to communicate with his former glory. It’s a fine effort, but the listener is left wondering whether John really wants to dig through all of that emotional muck. Compositionally, it’s beautifully done, but once again there’s a halting quality that keeps the songs from fully connecting. 

John’s first LP is the work of an outlandishly talented young man struggling to get in step with the hip sounds of the late 1960s (folk/prog/psychedelic) while establishing his own voice (via Taupin’s wondrously expressive lyrics). There are some embarrassing stumbles — particularly the Norse-influenced “Val-Hala," which unconvincingly gloms onto Led Zeppelin’s fascination with mythic yarns. Most of the songs are near-misses, save for “Sails” and the classic “Skyline Pigeon” (which recently turned up in the end credits of “The Favourite”).

John’s best album of the 1990s by far found him taking a break from producer Chris Thomas to work with k.d. lang collaborator Greg Penny. The result is a little bit country, a little bit rock-and-roll, but, blessedly, for the first time in almost 20 years, all Elton John. Paul Buckmaster’s orchestrations are unobtrusive, and you can actually hear the band vibing off one another. The only drawback: None of the melodies soars in that classic John tradition. Only “Please” comes close to classic status, but it lacks the go-for-broke bravado that makes him Elton John. Critics might've scoffed because he was winning awards for the shamelessly commercial "The Lion King" at the time.

After a string of five classic LPs, a recording artist is entitled to a stumble or two. “Caribou” is certainly a comedown from the heights of John’s early ‘70s output, but it’s not, as producer Gus Dudgeon infamously claimed, “a piece of crap." There are some baffling tracks on here (“Grimsby”, “You’re So Static” and “I’ve Seen the Saucers”), but they’re fun misfires. The album produced only two singles (“The Bitch Is Back” and “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me”), but they’re top-tier John.

This is a loose, ephemeral effort, but compared to the strenuously considered “The Diving Board," it’s something of a get-the-band-back-together delight. (The surviving members of the Elton John Band, and percussionist Ray Cooper, are all back on board). John is once again cutting loose with a devil-may-care insouciance that is right in line with his earlier work. It’s a joy to behold.

The autobiographical sequel to “Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy” covers three decades over 10 songs, which hardly feels adequate to address the multiple rises and falls (and at least one trip to rehab) over that time. But here’s the thing about getting old: The life-or-death episodes don’t always seem so life-or-death in retrospect. John and Taupin are musing here, and the distance is comforting. 

The stylistic uncertainty of “Empty Sky” is just about gone in John’s sophomore LP (his first to be released in the U.S.). Working for the first time with producer Gus Dudgeon and orchestral arranger Paul Buckmaster, John glides effortlessly from the balladry of “Your Song” to the rousing gospel rock of “Take Me to the Pilot." “Border Song” was soulful enough to merit a cover from Aretha Franklin. This was EJ proving he belonged in the big leagues, and he was about to go on a DiMaggio-like tear.

This stunning return to 1970s songwriting form from John is like watching Dwight Gooden throw a no-hitter in 1996 or Robert Altman direct “The Player” in 1992. You’re waiting for the inevitable misstep. You know he’s going to blow it. And then he closes out the album with “This Train Don’t Stop Here Anymore," a song that’s as good as anything he’s ever written. It’s a little too cautious overall to be judged a masterpiece, but this is his most accomplished collection of songs since “Captain Fantastic."

Released just five months after “Honky Château," this tight, 10-song collection includes two instant EJ classics (“Daniel” and “Crocodile Rock”) and one of his best deep cuts (“High-Flying Bird”). It’s not too far removed from the classic rock-'n'-roll sound of his previous LP, though Paul Buckmaster returns to provide orchestral arrangements for “Blues for my Baby and Me” and the exquisite “Have Mercy on the Criminal." Creatively, the only songwriter who could claim to be John’s equal during this period was Stevie Wonder. 

John’s first LP to hit No. 1 on the Billboard charts features one of the greatest pop songs ever written (“Rocket Man (I Think It’s Going to Be a Long, Long Time”) and is certainly a jauntier affair than his previous work to date. (He took a much-needed break from Paul Buckmaster’s occasionally overbearing orchestrations.) There’s appropriation aplenty throughout (“Honky Cat” is a Dixieland kick that was clearly inspired by Dr. John), but the emotional highlight may be the melancholy “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters," which, like “Tiny Dancer," found renewed popularity thanks to Cameron Crowe’s “Almost Famous."

John and Taupin bounced back from the rushed lark of “Caribou” with this autobiographical concept LP that charts the songwriting duo’s rise to fame. Many fans rate this as John’s masterpiece, and while it produced only one single (the masterful, nearly seven-minute-long attempted-suicide ballad “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”), it’s as strong a collection of songs as he’s ever assembled. “Tower of Babel," “Writing” and “We All Fall in Love Sometimes”…it’s impossible to pick a favorite.

Like most songwriters in the midst of a hot streak, John succumbed to the double-album temptation, and the result is a deeply felt, cheekily subversive masterpiece. The hits are some of his most iconic (“Bennie and the Jets," “Candle in the Wind," “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting” and the title track), but the deep cuts (particularly “Sweet Painted Lady” and “All the Girls Love Alice”) leave a deep groove due to their willingness to tackle subject matter that was considered outré at the time. It’s ambitious stuff, but John is in full command of the material throughout.

One misstep keeps this stellar LP from the top spot: John should’ve rejected Buckmaster’s orchestrations for the title track and stuck with the stripped-down instrumentation that’s now offered as a bonus track on the “Deluxe Edition” of “Tumbleweed Connection." Otherwise you’ve got an all-time side-one/track-one in “Tiny Dancer," the majestic “Levon," the cinematic “Indian Summer”…this is EJ deep in the pocket. 

Despite a complete absence of hit singles, “Tumbleweed Connection” is, song-for-song, Elton John’s finest album. Dinged at the time for being derivative of The Band’s Americana-inflected second LP, John and Taupin approach their Civil War subject with a theatrical distance: They’ve constructed a vague narrative framework that could easily be reworked to represent a Union view. The melodies are what matter, and John has never been more dialed-in compositionally. Every song is a standout, but the highlights are the rowdy “Ballad of a Well-Known Gun," the defiant “My Father’s Gun," the yearning “Amoreena” and the anthemic “Burn Down the Mission."