It’s just a few piano chords. You know them instantly. Before Elton John even opens his mouth, that specific, melancholic melody for candle in the wind pulls a certain lever in your chest. Most songs are just songs, but this one is a time capsule. It’s also a bit of a shapeshifter.
Honestly, it’s rare for a single piece of music to define two completely different decades for two completely different icons. We’re talking about Marilyn Monroe and Princess Diana—two women who, on the surface, had nothing in common besides a predatory relationship with the paparazzi and a tragic, premature end.
The 1973 Original: A Letter to Norma Jean
Back in 1973, Elton John and his long-time lyricist Bernie Taupin weren't trying to write a global anthem for grief. They were just looking at the wreckage of Hollywood. The song appeared on the seminal album Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. While the world saw Marilyn Monroe, Bernie Taupin saw Norma Jean Baker.
"I would have liked to have known you, but I was just a kid," Elton sings. It’s a gut punch of a line because it’s so relatable. We all have that one person we feel we "know" through a screen, yet we realize we’re just another stranger staring at a flicker of light.
The metaphor of a candle in the wind wasn't actually Bernie's original invention, though he’s the one who made it immortal in pop culture. He actually picked up the phrase from someone talking about Janis Joplin. It describes that fragile, volatile state of fame where the very thing that makes you bright—your vulnerability—is exactly what makes it so easy for the world to blow you out.
Musically, the '73 version is a power ballad, but it’s got a bit of grit. It’s a rock song. It’s got that mid-70s production value that feels warm and lived-in. It peaked at number 11 in the UK, which is decent, but it didn't scream "biggest song of all time" yet. It was a fan favorite, sure. A staple of the live sets. But it hadn't become a historical monument.
That 1997 Moment at Westminster Abbey
Everything changed on August 31, 1997. When Princess Diana died in that tunnel in Paris, the world stopped spinning for a second. Elton was a close friend of hers. They’d had their ups and downs, famously falling out over a book project before reconciling just months before her death at Gianni Versace’s funeral.
The story goes that Elton called Bernie and asked him to rewrite the lyrics. He didn't want to sing about "Norma Jean" at Diana’s funeral. It would have been weird. Wrong.
Bernie rewrote the lyrics in about two hours. He swapped "Goodbye Norma Jean" for "Goodbye England's Rose."
When Elton sat down at that piano in Westminster Abbey, the tension was unbearable. You can see it in the footage—the slight tremor, the way he stares straight ahead, refusing to look at the royal family or the coffin. He knew he couldn't mess this up. If he broke down, the whole thing would collapse.
He didn't break. He delivered a performance that felt like a collective exhale for a billion people watching.
The Statistics Are Actually Ridiculous
Sometimes we use the word "hit" too lightly. Candle in the Wind 1997 isn't just a hit. It’s a statistical anomaly.
- It sold 33 million copies.
- It stayed at number one in the UK for five weeks.
- In the US, it topped the Billboard Hot 100 for 14 weeks.
- It is technically the second best-selling physical single of all time, trailing only Bing Crosby’s "White Christmas" (and even that’s debated because of how sales were tracked in the 1940s).
What’s crazy is that Elton has basically never performed the 1997 version again. He told the public he would only do it if Diana’s sons, William and Harry, specifically asked him to. He wanted it to remain a "one-time" tribute, a moment frozen in the Abbey. When you see him in concert now, he always reverts to the 1973 lyrics. It’s his way of keeping the two tributes separate. One is for the fans; one was for a friend.
Why Does It Still Work?
You might think a song written for a 1950s film star and then rewritten for a 1990s royal would feel dated. It doesn't.
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The core of candle in the wind is about the loneliness of being observed. We live in a world of social media now where everyone is, in some small way, a candle in the wind. We all have "private lives" that are actually public. We all struggle with the "whispers" that Bernie wrote about.
There’s a nuance here that people miss: the song is also an indictment of us, the audience.
"They set you on the treadmill / And they made you change your name."
That’s not just about the studio bosses or the royal handlers. It’s about the public demand for a certain version of a person. We wanted Marilyn to be the blonde bombshell. We wanted Diana to be the People’s Princess. We rarely cared about the actual human beings behind the titles until they were gone.
Technical Brilliance in Simplicity
If you analyze the music, it’s surprisingly straightforward. It’s in the key of E major. The chord progression follows a very traditional pop-rock structure. But Elton’s piano playing is what carries the emotional weight.
He uses a lot of "suspended" chords. These are chords that feel like they’re hanging in mid-air, waiting to resolve. It creates a sense of anxiety and yearning. It’s the musical equivalent of a sob caught in your throat.
And then there's the vocal. Elton’s voice in 1973 was higher, more nasal, very "rock star." By 1997, his voice had deepened into a rich baritone due to years of touring and throat surgery. That deeper register added a gravity to the 1997 version that the original lacked. It sounded like an elder statesman of music laying a peer to rest.
Common Misconceptions About the Song
People get things wrong about this track all the time.
First off, many think the song was written for Diana. Nope. It was 24 years old by the time she passed. It was just a very lucky (or unlucky) coincidence that the lyrics fit her life so perfectly with just a few tweaks.
Secondly, people often confuse the "live" version from Australia in 1986 with the funeral version. In '86, Elton did a massive tour with a full orchestra. The version of candle in the wind from that tour actually gave the song a huge second life and is often the one you hear on classic rock radio. It’s grand, sweeping, and epic. But it’s still the Marilyn version.
Lastly, there’s a rumor that Elton hated the song. That’s not true. He has described it as one of the most important things he’s ever done. However, he does find the 1997 version difficult to listen to because it brings back the raw trauma of that week in London.
The Legacy of England’s Rose
The 1997 single raised over £38 million for the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fund. It wasn't a cash grab. Elton and the record label waived all their rights to the profits.
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It changed how we mourn. Before that, funerals were mostly private or very stiff affairs. Elton bringing a pop sensibility to Westminster Abbey bridged a gap between the "old world" of the monarchy and the "new world" of celebrity culture.
How to Appreciate the Song Today
If you want to really "get" the song, don't just put on a Greatest Hits compilation.
- Listen to the 1973 studio version first. Pay attention to the drums and the backing vocals. It’s a song about the cruelty of the 1950s film industry.
- Watch the 1986 Central Park or Sydney versions. See how it evolved into a stadium anthem.
- Watch the 1997 funeral footage. But do it sparingly. It’s heavy.
Next Steps for Music Lovers:
To truly understand the DNA of this track, listen to "Empty Garden (Hey Hey Johnny)," Elton’s tribute to John Lennon. You’ll hear the same DNA—the same raw, confused grief of a man trying to make sense of a world that kills its icons. After that, look up the original 1974 7-inch vinyl artwork; it captures the "Old Hollywood" vibe that Bernie Taupin was so obsessed with during the writing process.
The song remains a masterpiece because it reminds us that fame is a fragile thing. We like to think stars are immortal, but they’re just wax and wick, flickering until the air gets too thin.