Steve Hochman on January 14th, 2016

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It was the exact right tribute: simple, dignified, personal but not too personal, a touch of that English reserve, perhaps a bit ironic given how much both the tributor and tributee were known for glammed-out excess in their ’70s salad years. But it was also likely just what the recipient would have wanted, had he been around to witness it rather than having passed away on Sunday.

Elton John, sitting at his red piano, light glinting off the many sparkles on his coat, turned very matter-of-fact as he addressed the fans midway through a special, relatively intimate concert at the Wiltern Theatre on Wednesday. He told of a time, more than 45 years ago, when early in his career he needed to find people who could help him realize artistic ambitions he had for new songs he’d written, songs that had some classical flair mixed in with the pop, rock and country influences. He didn’t know where to turn.

Then he heard a song on the radio, “Space Oddity.” That had what he was searching for. So he sought out the song’s producer, Gus Dudgeon, and its arranger/orchestrator, Paul Buckmaster. And with that a team was formed that shaped the sound of John’s music as he ascended to the strata of popdom with what became era-defining songs.

“I have David Bowie to thank for that,” he said, plainly but very clearly gratefully. “So I’d like to dedicate this to the Starman himself.”

And with that, he launched into an extended solo piano fantasia that led into his own sad saga of ill-fated astronautics, “Rocket Man.” (John reportedly performed the Bowie song itself the previous night in a taping of a satellite radio special before a small audience in the same venue.)

Of course, long gone are the flamboyance, decadence, even outrage of the days when John and Bowie ruled both pop charts and pop culture. Rather than flowing feathers and outlandish glasses, now there are the relatively moderate sequins and red-framed shades. But much of the set John does these days celebrates that era, starting Wednesday as he has in recent times with the ominous, “A Clockwork Orange”-evoking majesty of the instrumental “Funeral for a Friend” and its propulsive medley partner “Love Lies Bleeding.”

The wonderfully sprawling 1973 album “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” which also opens with that medley, was the dominant source (the title song, “Bennie and the Jets,” “Your Sister Can’t Twist (But She Can Rock ’n’ Roll),” “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting”), surrounded by earlier songs in which John and lyricist Bernie Taupin explored a sort of Anglo-fied, romanticized Americana (“Levon,” “Burn Down the Mission,” “Tiny Dancer,” “Your Song”) and chestnuts from the subsequent rush of chart domination (“The Bitch is Back,” “I’m Still Standing,” “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me,” Philadelphia Freedom”). John paid homage to Taupin, noting that they’ve now been a team for 49 years, and his band is still anchored by drummer Nigel Olson, part of it since 1969, and guitarist Davey Johnstone, whose sharp, bright sound has been a signature of the John aesthetic for nearly as long.

But the show, Sir Elton puckishly playful throughout, wasn’t all about the past. Also being celebrated this night, with tickets mostly sold via John’s fan club or distributed through a radio station promotion, was a new album, “Wonderful Crazy Night,” due for Feb. 5 release. Five of its songs were scattered through the set, mostly upbeat (“They’re all bedwetters,” he quipped of the buoyant tone on the T-Bone Burnett-produced album) and fitting very nicely along the old faves. The title song and “Looking Up” have a real catchy, bouncy immediacy, while “Blue Wonderful,” a sunny love note to a free spirit (perhaps his hubby David Furnish, whom he thanked for his patience and support) tied in well with some similarly toned early material.

And youth was served, literally, in the form of three guest duet partners: Canadian teen Shawn Mendez (“If I were 50 years younger, I’d still be a year older than him,” John lamented) on “Tiny Dancer,” Demi Lovato taking the Kiki Dee slot on “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” and Fall Out Boy’s Patrick Stump, faring the best of them, on the punchy “Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting.”

The real takeaway from the night, though, was that even more than a pop presence, personality and purveyor of dozens of essential songs, he wants to be known as a piano player. “Levon” and “Burn Down the Mission” in particular have been reconstructed to give him considerable room to show off his chops, and chop he did, pounding on the keys of that crimson grand (the visual icon of his Vegas show “The Million Dollar Piano,” which starts a new run next week) with the joyful spirit of Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis, flurries of gospel-New Orleans-rock ’n’ roll release.

As he thumped the final chord of the “Mission” jam, he bounced up from his bench, with a kid-like grin and his eyes — even behind the tinted lenses — out-sparkling his jacket. As images to retain from the evening go, that one, too, is exactly right.