Billy Joel is no stranger to staying out of the public eye.

Ever since the early 90s, Joel has remained relatively reclusive (as reclusive as one can be in New York City) in hopes to try and do what so many of his characters dreamt of: give up life the American way and start a family.

This hope of a real life Brenda and Eddie relationship comes with Joel’s decision to stop releasing music. His last album to date, River of Dreams, was released in 1993, with no plans to put out any new material in the near future. 

Joel’s personal life has been one of many internal struggles, the ghosts of which still haunt him to this day. He grew up in lower class Long Island, had a famous drinking spell throughout his recording and touring career through the 2000s, and has experienced several failed relationships (and one failed marriage) throughout his time in the spotlight. “It’s a cliche,” he told Chuck Klosterman for The New York Times. 

“Life is a theatrical play, and it’s all tragedy, and even though you can enjoy the comedic, ironic elements… life will always come up and whap you on the head.”

Perhaps then, Billy Joel may have found some dark humor in the way that the world came to a standstill in March of 2020. Everyone around him in Manhattan locked themselves away from each other, as he did, experiencing what he described in “Summer Highland Falls:” “Not the best of times- but they’re the only times I’ve ever known.”

It’s interesting how many of Joel’s songs seem cathartic when heard by a world that has experienced COVID-19. A staple of his catalog is how he gives voice to blue collar workers and everyday people as they experience hardships and changes in their lives, with songs that don’t so much offer solutions, but empathy and understanding. “Allentown” is sung from the perspective of a steel worker in the eponymous city as he watches its decline, “The Downeaster Alexa” is about a fisherman struggling to make ends meet as nature pushes the fish further away from the shore, and his most famous song, “Piano Man” is narrated by a lounge musician providing distraction from the drabness of the working life.

Despite Joel’s multi-million dollar wealth, he has always held himself as relatable and down-to-Earth in a way many of his contemporaries couldn’t be, and the messages he puts in his songs have remained uplifting generations later. “Some people… think I’ll write an album about being sad,” Joel said. “But that’s not what my music is about. There have been times when I’ve done that, but I’m not going to do it again.”

What he is doing instead is touring.

On Sept.10, 2021, Joel made his return to Cincinnati by playing a show at Great American Ball Park, one of the first major recording artists to make a live performance since the beginning of the pandemic. Armed with an accolade-laden backing band, his trusty grand piano and a fly swatter (more on that later), Joel played to a stadium bursting at the seams with fans, ranging from those born in the last decade to some older than him.

At roughly 8:30 p.m., the stadium lights abruptly went off, and those watching from the higher levels could spot a flashlight escorting the Innocent Man to center stage. As soon as a spotlight illuminated Joel sitting on his stool, he and his band immediately launched into “Movin’ Out,” and those who hadn’t yet taken their seats ran through the aisles as best as the crowds could allow. Joel didn’t waste his time after the song’s close, giving the audience a quick “good evening,” before moving on to his next track.

After the hard-hitting synthesizers came to a screeching halt at the end of “Pressure,” Joel turned to the audience and began his banter, which many attendees pointed out was the same as previous shows. This is true for most legacy acts, but Joel openly acknowledged it within the first 15 minutes of the concert. “So, I’ve got nothing new for you; you’ve seen all this s***,” Joel said. “But we know how to play it by now.”

Joel then took his audience on a scenic tour of his hits, following “Pressure” with “The Entertainer,” “Allentown,” “The River of Dreams,” and “She’s Always a Woman” to name a few. 

Throughout the breaks in between songs, Joel would pick up an ornately decorated fly swatter placed on top of his piano to combat the many bugs that circled his head, visible on the large video panels flanking either side of the stage. “They’re attracted to the light,” he said offhandedly at one point, acknowledging the absurdity of the situation, but that this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

Three times throughout the set, Joel actually asked the crowd what song they’d want to hear next, naming two songs and basing the decision on the volume of cheers each song received. “Vienna,” “Say Goodbye to Hollywood” and “The Downeaster Alexa” won the polls, each flashing decadent projections onto the screens to accompany Joel’s piano and (surprisingly intact) vocal range.

About halfway through the show, Joel waited for the audience to calm down after “Only the Good Die Young,” and the fun sarcasm left his face and voice as he addressed the crowd. “I suppose I don’t have to remind you that 20 years ago was 9/11,” Joel said, before dedicating “New York State of Mind” to the victims of the attack. Audience members visibly held back tears as they sang along with a volume rivaling the chorus of “Piano Man.”

Joel also dedicated two more songs in the set, performing the classic Rolling Stones songs “Brown Sugar” and “Honky Tonk Women,” saying after the former “this one’s for Charlie,” a reference to the Stones’ drummer Charlie Watts’ unfortunate passing weeks before.

After an hour and a half, while his band let the final chord of “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” ring out, Joel donned the infamous harmonica to close with “Piano Man.” Accompanied by the 36,000 in attendance, the song pierced through the still bustling roads of downtown Cincinnati, and, when the band stopped to let the audience sing the chorus, those voices were the only sounds that could be heard, as if the whole city was in the mood for a melody along with them. Thanking the crowd, Joel stepped offstage to roaring applause, which lasted for four minutes after the end of the song.

But the concert wasn’t over yet. A Fender Stratocaster strapped to his back, Joel emerged from behind the curtain and entered into his monstrous encore set. Song after song, no breaks, the high energy hits that had gone missing from the first set were given life after all.

“We Didn’t Start the Fire,” which left audience members breathless and voiceless after shouting along, became “Uptown Girl,” which morphed into “It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me,” “Big Shot,” Led Zeppelin’s “Rock and Roll,” and finally, “You May Be Right.” This nostalgic medley of sounds and styles, ranging from Frankie Valli’s falsetto and Eddie Cochran’s swagger to the trademark barks and wails of Mick Jagger and Robert Plant, left Joel sweating and the audience’s ear drums beating.

Ultimately, the audience left the concert feeling a sense of camaraderie. Those living in Cincinnati are no strangers to half-full stadiums, so to not only have a sold out show in town, but to have it coming out of a global pandemic seemed to bring the audience together in a way not many shows of that size can. 

Regardless of setting, the true caliber of the show came from Joel’s songs. Whether or not they were given lukewarm reviews by critics, Joel is a headliner of the American songbook. His characters are unavoidable, his situations are nothing but relatable, and his fans hope he continues to serenade for as long as he can.