I first heard Billy Joel as a kid on a remote island among the windswept pines and prehistoric landscape at Georgian Bay. My mother had bought the Piano Man cassette tape in Midland, Ontario (the nearest town of consequence), and even at 12 or 13, I was hooked. Something about his voice, the musicianship, and the way the stories unfolded stuck with me. A few years later, with my first real girlfriend, I remember driving downtown in my first car, windows cracked, The Stranger playing on the stereo. Joel’s music was vibrant, mature, and songs like "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" and "Vienna" transported me to places far from late-'70s Toronto. It made me feel like a worldly adult, even though I wasn't!
So watching Billy Joel: And So It Goes, now streaming on HBO, felt like revisiting not just the artist, but certain aspects of my past.
Part One offers a candid, absorbing portrait of an artist who has long resisted being pinned down. From the outset, Joel speaks with unexpected frankness—about his failures, regrets, and the winding road that led to his breakout moment. There's no self-mythologizing here. He simply tells the story as he remembers it, and the result is compelling.
The documentary avoids the typical jukebox treatment. Yes, the songs are there—"Piano Man," "Just the Way You Are," "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant"—but what stands out is how deep it goes. Joel recounts his early bands (The Hassles, Attila), a disastrous record deal, and the years spent clawing toward recognition. At times, the level of detail verges on exhaustive. Recording sessions, band tensions, label negotiations—it’s all laid bare. We see not just the music, but the grind - and the grit - behind it.
One of the more striking moments involves Joel’s decision to turn down George Martin, the legendary producer behind The Beatles. Martin was interested in producing The Stranger, but only if Joel agreed to use session musicians. Joel declined, choosing instead to stick with his touring band. It was a gamble—but one that paid off. The album became a career-defining hit and solidified Joel’s confidence in his own creative instincts.
The film also explains how "Piano Man" came from actually working in a cheesy piano bar because his record company wasn't paying the bills. "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" is based on high school acquaintances who peaked before their time. And several tunes refer to his first wife and no-nonsense business manager, Elizabeth Weber. Joel's songs come from good and not-so-great experiences. They’re not carefully crafted tales in the style of, say, Gordon Lightfoot—they’re drawn directly from life.
More than anything, And So It Goes spotlights Joel’s songwriting brilliance. Early demo tapes, scratchy rehearsal footage, and his own commentary reveal the care behind the craft. His melodies may sound effortless, but they come from discipline and precision. Interviews with Paul McCartney and Bruce Springsteen reinforce the point—not with flattery, but with genuine respect.
This first installment doesn’t try to smooth over the rough edges. Joel talks about his suicide attempt, romantic trials, and a devastating betrayal by a trusted manager. But the film never veers into melodrama. It simply presents the facts, letting viewers draw their own conclusions.
And So It Goes isn’t a glossy retrospective. It’s a close-up of a driven, self-critical artist navigating his way through a turbulent industry—and life. With Part Two still to come, Part One already stands as one of the most thoughtful and unfiltered music documentaries in recent years. It’s not just about the hits—it’s about the person who wrote them, and the circumstances and people who helped them become part of our cultural canon.
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