Billy Joel is a Deranged Psychopath

A few years back, my youngest son and I were at Citi Field watching the New York Mets. He was about five or six years old at the time. Back then, in the eighth inning of every home game, they played the classic Billy Joel song, “Piano Man.” They even encouraged everyone to sing along, as they put the words up on the big screen with a bouncing ball so that everyone could follow. And everyone usually did.

Sing us a song, you’re the Piano Man

Sing us a song tonight

Well we’re all in the mood for a melody

And you’ve got us feeling alright.

Let me state up front that I love “Piano Man.” This is because everyone loves “Piano Man,” and I consider myself a proud member of the human race. Listen to it. It’s beautiful. The song tells a story. It’s a rare popular song in ¾ waltz time. The lyrics are crystal clear. Much like early Elton John, Billy Joel just sounded better when he was younger. They have a crispness to their voices, like Al Pacino in the first Godfather. Before all their vocal cords – and fingers – expanded like Italian sausages and you get things like “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” the “Circle of Life,” and Any Given Sunday.

But even “Piano Man” has a dark side, and, once you hear it, it cannot be unheard. It swallows the song whole. Therefore, if you truly love that song and want to continue loving it, please stop reading. I won’t judge. Maybe you can read this magazine that someone bought me as a joke from the supermarket check-out line.

The Ongoing Love indeed.

Going back to the game, this was the first time my son heard “Piano Man.” While he watched everyone – including myself – singing along, he looked up and asked the question.

“Dad, who’s the piano man?”

“The piano man is Billy Joel.”

“Who’s Billy Joel?”

I laughed. “Oh, he’s the guy who sings the song.”

My son thought about it for a second. “Hmm.”

It was my son’s innocent question that hit me like a thunderbolt, and I knew immediately and instinctively what his “Hmm.” meant. He grasped what I only first realized in that awful moment: that Billy Joel is a deranged psychopath.

Think about it. Billy Joel wrote a song in which the chorus is sung by a group of people, and the chorus is actually a tribute to the title character, the Piano Man, and that Piano Man is the same guy who wrote the song!

Here’s the best analogy I can come up with. There’s a famous old tune called “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” People sing it as a group to honor a particular person, like at a birthday dinner or a retirement celebration. But imagine for a moment that the person who wrote that song was named Frank. And imagine further that the original version of the song was not “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” but “For FRANK’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” That didn’t happen, did it? No. Because only a psychopath would write that song. Even if Frank tried, his friends would have made sure that no matter how awesome Frank was at doing stuff (we agree you’re the best, Frank), they wouldn’t let him write a song honoring himself, especially when the song is intended to be sung by a group of other people (sing “us” a song). Because that’s just crazy.

But that’s precisely what Billy Joel did. Where were Billy Joel’s friends?

Most people would say I’m overthinking this. That “Piano Man” is a nice song about nice people in a nice place. They will also argue – correctly – that all songs are fundamentally about the songwriter. Such is the nature of art. Van Gogh’s Irises is about irises, sure, but it’s really about Van Gogh. Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony is about Beethoven, and that’s okay.

But “Piano Man” is not just a manifestation of the songwriter’s subjective personality and perspective in the context of the applicable art form. The point of “Piano Man” is to tell an actual autobiographical story about the songwriter, the main point of which is so that a group of people – us – can pay homage to him. To honor him. For BILL’s a jolly good fellow.

If Hitler played the piano, the first song he would write would be “Piano Man.”

Don’t believe me? For goodness sake, just listen to the words. Indeed, every lyric supports this reading. Let’s start at the beginning.

It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday

The regular crowd shuffles in

There’s an old man sitting next to me

Makin’ love to his tonic and gin.

I have no problem with this line, by the way. It’s the best in the whole song, and I’m savvy enough to not take it literally, because that would be disgusting. This line also marks the last in the song that doesn’t reveal part of Billy Joel’s profound personality disorder. The rest all do. It starts off low key.

He says “Son, can you play me a memory?”

[huh?]

I’m not really sure how it goes

But it’s sad and it’s sweet and I knew it complete

When I wore a younger man’s clothes.”

The old man makes what seems like an impossible request. “You’ve never met me, but sing me a song from my own subjective memory.” Instead of Billy Joel politely informing the old man that he’s not a wizard or a magician, guess what? The next line goes right into the chorus. Sing us a song, you’re the Piano Man.

The implication here is clear. That Billy Joel was somehow able to come through and deliver on the old man’s impossible ask, which performance led directly to the group tribute. This is Billy Joel winking at us, telling the audience in no uncertain terms that he basically just performed a minor miracle.

This opening verse is just a taste, and a subtle one at that. By the end, you will feel the anvil land on your head as you behold the on-the-nose madness of this song. Next verse:

Now John at the bar is a friend of mine

He gets me my drinks for free

And he’s quick with a joke or to light up your smoke

But there’s someplace that he’d rather be.

This is the first clue that the place itself might not be all that it’s cracked up to be. That’s it’s not a good place, but a bad place.

He said, “Bill, I believe this is killing me!”

As a smile ran away from his face

“Well I’m sure that I could be a movie star

If I could get out of this place.”

Lots to unpack here. First of all, what precipitated John’s random outburst? In the blink of an eye, he went from being his normal friendly self to contemplating his own death. Not only that, he refers to his dream as literally being a “movie star?” A “movie star,” John? Is John a 9-year old girl? What adult male with a job tells another adult male with a job that he aspires to be, not an artist, not an actor, not a performer, but a “movie star?”

But this so-called “John” serves a more important purpose in Billy Joel’s story. John complains that he needs to “get out of this place,” but guess what? He never does. We never hear about John making something of himself, of John living out his dream. Nope. Getting out of this place is reserved for one man and one man only. And his name is Billy Joel.

By now, we start to see the contours of the real story. These players are not based on actual memories. They are not even real people. They are characters in the psychodrama playing out in Billy Joel’s head. Even though the Billy Joel who wrote “Piano Man” was not yet the famous icon he eventually became, clearly he had the ego even then to believe it was his destiny. He knows that he used to be a regular guy with an ordinary job, but in his mind, he has never not been the star who sells out Madison Square Garden every time he rolls out of bed. The third verse confirms the immeasurable distance between Billy Joel and the other souls in that establishment.

Now Paul is a real estate novelist

[not a real job, Billy Joel, sorry]

Who never had time for a wife

And he’s talkin’ with Davy

Who’s still in the Navy

[made up and made up]

And probably will be for life.

[even our honorable servicemen are losers]

And the waitress is practicing politics

[in other words, talking bullshit because she’s just a waitress]

As the businessmen slowly get stoned

[even the successful people are junkies]

Yes, they’re sharing a drink they call loneliness

But it’s better than drinkin’ alone.

There you have it, folks. These people are nobodies. They are worse than nobodies. They are a collection of lonely losers. They are so different from the musical colossus that is Billy Joel that they might as well be a different species altogether. Did Billy Joel use the same restroom as these people or did his excretions ascend straight up to Valhalla? By what cruel comical injustice was Billy Joel forced to exist side-by-side with these cretins? It boggles the mind.

Billy Joel does not identify with these people. He has nothing but contempt for them. He sees them only in the context of his own immeasurable talent, success, and standing. Each chorus only hammers home the point. Then he shoves a lavish piano solo down our throats in case we didn’t understand.

If “Piano Man” wasn’t a song, but just words, the words would go something like this:

“I used to have a shitty job in a shitty place. All the people there – the staff, the employees, the management – were a bunch of losers. Stone. Cold. Losers.

But I will give them credit for one thing. I will grant them this:

They knew I was better than them.”

Lest there be any doubt, Billy Joel throws all nuance out the window with the final verse.

It’s a pretty good crowd for a Saturday

And the manager gives me a smile

’Cause he knows that it’s me they’ve been coming to see

To forget about life for a while.

And the piano sounds like a carnival

And the microphone smells like a beer

And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar

And say “Man, what are you doing here?”

THE END.

“Man, what are you doing here, Billy Joel?” Yeah, what was I doing there? I’m Billy Joel.

Those are the actual lyrics. Let them sink in. My work is done here, and I’m sorry.

And for that reason, fuck you, Billy Joel, you fucking deranged psychopath.