Thirty plus dating
It was really gross.”“It’s not really gross,” Joel said. “I don’t think there’s anything more pathetic than a man on a diet.”He is sensitive about the alcohol thing.“I like the popcorn.”They sat outside until almost 2 People tend to assume, given the recent burst of reputational favor and vigor in performance, that Joel must be sober, that the narrative of redemption must rest on abstinence. Joel steers clear of spirits, he says, and just drinks wine, in moderation. He cops to having had lots of problems in the past, drinking to excess, behaving like an ass. I love you, Billy, and this is tough love.”“Elton is just being Elton,” Joel responded to writer Fred Schruers—the book was originally intended as an as-told-to autobiography, but at the last minute Joel, increasingly uneasy about revealing so much of himself, pulled out and sent back his advance—Joel wrote Elton John an angry note: “What gives you the omnipotent moral certainty and authority to justify the public humiliation of anyone—especially of someone to whom you should, at the very least, consider according a modicum of honor?“You know, if you type ‘Billy Joel’s house’ into Google maps, you get Madison Square Garden,” Joel said. And then Joel was doing “Just the Way You Are.” He’d written it for his first wife and manager, Elizabeth. To close out the set, he sprayed his throat, donned a harmonica rig, and launched into “Piano Man” without betraying any exasperation, only wonder, as thousands of people, many of them about half the song’s age, sang along.
He intends to continue the residency, as they are calling it, for as long as both ticket demand and his level of performance remain strong. whisked him and Roderick and his tour director, Max Loubiere, crosstown and then up a ramp to the passageway behind the stage, where crew and band members were milling around. It doesn’t vary much from show to show, but there are always a few wild cards, and this time Cohen had inserted “Just the Way You Are,” the 1977 ballad that became Joel’s first big hit, propelling sales of the album “The Stranger,” and of Joel’s earlier albums as well, which up until then had languished. you grew some bigger tits.” Cohen walked by, shaking his head. When the song was done, Joel turned to the audience and said, “And then we got divorced.”Joel’s show hasn’t changed much over the years.
That’s my routine.” Joel has a knack for delivering his own recycled quips and explanations as though they were fresh, a talent related, one would think, to that of singing well-worn hits with sincere-seeming gusto.
He often says that the hardest part isn’t turning it on but turning it off: “One minute, I’m Mussolini, up onstage in front of twenty thousand screaming people.
“They usually have a car.” She drove him back to Centre Island. She drove off that night, but months later they began seeing each other. Outside the kitchen, he tossed the bag in the back of a Polaris U. Cemeteries, row houses, projects: the copter tacked southwest over Brooklyn and aimed for Manhattan’s lower tip, towers sparkling in the late-afternoon sun. It’s been busted down to ‘Private Jack.’ ”) But this time Cohen and Brian Ruggles, Joel’s sound engineer since the early seventies, prevailed.
She moved in with him, and he persuaded her to quit her job on Wall Street. “This is the beginning of the psych-up for the show,” Joel said. ”“There won’t be a dry eye in the house,” the saxophonist Mark Rivera said. (He’d wanted to leave it off the album, too, but Linda Ronstadt and Phoebe Snow, dropping by the studio one day, told him he was nuts.) He usually won these arguments. A few hours later, the arena was full, and he was back onstage with the band, delivering the familiar hits in full voice. The cynicism surfaced only between numbers, such as when, after playing “The Entertainer,” he repeated, in a quizzical tone, the line “I won’t be here in another year / If I don’t stay on the charts” and then exclaimed, “Bullshit!
Someone had rescued a gigantic bag of popcorn from the dressing room; Joel liked to have it at home. Dock light from across the bay wobbled on the surface of the Sound.