Classic Elvis – it’s great musicianship, you can dance to it, and it’s from when he was young and sexy. It’s very of its time, too. Makes you think back to life in the 1950′s. Though chances are, if you’re reading this, you haven’t been alive that long, but it makes you want to imagine it. And that’s where musical artifacts come in. You can listen to the voice of a dead man, preserved and unchanged through decades, still as vital as ever. What if stars’ voices died with them, when they died? What would be left of our recent history. How would we preserve and remember our cultural changes? We’d be lost. Without the ability to pull out and play an Elvis record, we would have no connection to that time. It would be lost, time out of mind, as the people who lived it became fewer and fewer. So try and appreciate what we’ve got and be glad we can preserve the dead.
Classic. Even if you’re not an Elvis fan, you have to agree. There’s lots of reasons not to like Elvis; his vulgarity, his despicable cultus, his wholehearted swandive into self-parody, the bad movies, the jumpsuits, etc. Some people even like to scapegoat him for co-opting black music for white consumption, which is unfair. That was just how the music industry worked in those days and it wasn’t his fault. But even people who are turned off by the whole Elvis mythos find it hard to deny the man’s charisma. It’s also hard to deny how flat-out good those early performances of his were. The moves, the swagger, the grin, that voice. When Elvis hit America, it was like nothing anyone had ever seen. Nobody moved like that. It’s true also, like some detractors say, that Elvis was a through and through a teen idol, that’s not exactly the grave insult they think it is. He was an entertainer who came of age at a time when entertainers were just that – he didn’t think of himself as an artist or a creator or a figure of great political import. He was there to sing and dance and make young girls squeal. Although that way of thinking may be the reason why his choice of material was ofttimes poor, it was the typical way of thinking for stars of his era. Before the sixties, actors and singers did the projects their managers told them to do and weren’t expected to have ideas of their own. At that time, the singer’s job was to interpret the songs he was given, and Elvis was great at that. Don’t forget what a great vocalist he was, when he had good material, and even when he didn’t. When you go back to those early hits of his, it’s impossible to deny they were great.
Remember when Elvis was shocking? He’s like the face of Americana now and to our jaded eyes there’s nothing remotely provocative about him. He’s as safe and familiar as a bowl of cornflakes. But in the fifties he outraged and terrified the nation with his sexy grin and lascivious leg wiggles. Back than any man who didn’t have starched pants and the regulation stick up his ass was a threat to society. The fifties were all about propriety and conformity and pretty pink colors. What was wrong with people back then, I don’t know. Maybe after the many traumatic evens of the thirties and forties everybody just wanted to feel safe. After all, the whole world had been turned upside down. You can’t really blame people for wanting to put a bland and pleasant face on life. Then this new thing called rock’n'roll came along. And scared the shit out of the older crowd. When Elvis asked his girl if the chairs in her parlor felt empty, everyone knew he wasn’t talking about the chairs in her parlor. It was rare enough to see a man displaying physical grace – everyone had a suit on starched so stiff they could barely walk. Overt physicality was permissible for dancers like Gene Kelly, but Kelly’s dancing was never sexualized. Acting sexy was ok for a few women, the Marilyn and Jayne types, but no man before Elvis acted sexy. Elvis moved sexy, the way a woman would, but of course in a very masculine way as well. That was unheard of. No wonder Ed Sullivan filmed him from the waist up. It wasn’t just the women who were sexually repressed – it takes two to tango, as they say. How much blame you can put on Elvis Presley for the sexual revolution that quickly followed his arrival I’m not sure, but he surely did help it along. Maybe we’ve come to associate Elvis and Marilyn Monroe with each other because at a very repressed time, they did more than anybody to show men and women how to be physical creatures.
It’s no secret I enjoy Elvis, to some people’s chagrin. No shame, no apologies. I get Elvis, but I’m not sure I get Elvis fans. Here’s a true story. There’s a nice little gift shop near where I live that sells a diverse variety of goodies, from jewelry and vintage clothes, to handmade soap to sports merchandise. There’s dozens of little booths that vendors rent or sublease, or whatever the term would be, and one of them (which I’ve often bought from) is devoted to Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe memorabilia. I’m not exactly sure why Elvis and Marilyn have posthumously been made a couple, but they always seem to go together. Perhaps because they were, in style and cultural impact, the most remembered icons of the 1950′s. Or because both led troubled, drug-addled lives and died young. I don’t think they knew each other or moved in the same circles in life, but who knows maybe they harbored a mutual respect towards one another. The point is, where there’s Elvis memorabilia, there’s Marilyn and vice-versa. So here I am, shopping for something emblazoned with the image of Marilyn Monroe, when I see my favorite booth being restocked, by middle-aged couple both in full icon regalia. He with jet black pompadour and massive muttonchops; she in tight sweater, platinum hair and much too much red lipstick. They were nice and seemingly normal in everything except appearance. He declared with all confidence that “nobody doesn’t like Elvis.” As somebody who threw herself a Lady Gaga dress-up birthday party, I have no place to judge people who still, after all those years and tawdry revelations, want nothing more that to look like The King. Not only do these people run a business devoted to selling Elvis and Marilyn branded crap, they also have to be Elvis and Marilyn. It doesn’t matter that these stars have been dead far longer than I’ve been alive. They still exert an inexorable pull that inspires worship and emulation, from beyond the grave. Truly, it’s as if the concept of material existence is immaterial. Elvis is alive. Inside of his fans, that is.
This Elvis song is of interest mostly for being basically the same song as the Rolling Stones’ Fool To Cry. Now, obviously, Elvis’s song came first. Did the Glimmer Twins consciously draw inspiration from a mid-level latter-day Elvis single, or was it coincidental? I would imagine that by 1969, when Don’t Cry Daddy was released, the Glimmers would have long stopped paying attention to what Elvis was up to, and even if they were paying attention it’s unlikely that this particular offering would have made them dash to the nearest record shop. I think it’s probably a coincidence they both have songs with slightly creepy ‘daddy’ refrains. Both songs, if you haven’t noticed, are at a cheesiness level most often associated with Velveeta products. I would not say either one is a very good song, but which is the worse? I’m going to declare Elvis the winner here. Because we expect a high degree of cheesiness from him – bad taste was kind of his trademark. But The Stones really should know better than to take something musically wonderful and ruin it with cringe-inducingly bad lyrics.
Awww, very nice clip. I think it’s evident why Elvis got so big with the teenyboppers. Teenyboppers love that good-looking, weak-in-the-brains type. You gotta admit, he was quite the hot piece back in his heyday. Of course then somebody pipes up with the argument that he was nothing but a hot piece with good hair, and then there’s a debate about his musical merits. Well, I’ve had it defending my taste for Elvis. I just got busted for having a Katy Perry song on my iPod (I swear I don’t know how it got on there). Compared to that humiliation, liking Elvis is small potatoes.
Again with my embarrassing propensity for Elvis, you say! And again my defense is; Elvis wasn’t always as lame as he was when he took up sparkly-jumpsuit-wearing, Elvis was not the evil mastermind of a plot to rip off black musical culture and sell it to whitey for a dime, and besides if you listen closely you’ll find he was rather a good singer. To naught, because in most minds the musical legacy of Elvis can never be separated from the kitsch-parade monstrosity of the Graceland industry. I like to think of Elvis as a musical idiot savant who knew not what the changes wrought. He was, with his simple mind and terrible, terrible taste, living (then dead) proof that you can’t take the proletariat out of the boy, no matter how much cash you give him. Which is why he inspires such revulsion in folks who fancy themselves a touch above the common Twinkie- eating proles who enjoy velvet paintings and other stereotypical iconography of unsophisticated bad taste. All of which has not one iota to do with music. So, I point to the music. It is good.
Watch it and weep. What happened to Elvis? He’s so tacky and he’s so drugged he can barely stand. He used to be cool, yes he did. Some people can survive massive fame with their sanity intact, but it seems Elvis was not one of them. Elvis had no mind of his own, really. He just wanted money and food and pills and girls in white panties, all of which he got plenty of, at the cost of any shred of dignity he may ever have had. The whole Elvis cult is very weird and alien to me, very uniquely lower American and frankly a bit offputting, yet I find myself frequently defending him. There are Elvis Fans and there are Elvis fans. The hardcore Elvis Fans are most likely insane in the brain, but there are some of us who merely enjoy some of his music and that’s an embattled position. I’m always arguing that if you look past the horrendously bad taste swirling around the icon, you find a rather good singer lurking underneath. Especially in the early years. Liking Elvis shouldn’t have to be a deep dark secret. It’s ok. Burning Love is a good song. The jumpsuit may be bad, but the song is good. Really.
One song three versions. Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly and Elvis; between the three of them, pretty much all the best 50′s music is covered. All the versions are similar (Presley’s is just a jam), but I’m going to say Chuck Berry’s original is the best.
Besame Mucho is one of the most frequently recorded, and hence most recognizable songs in the world. If you’re wondering, Cesaria Evora’s version is of course the best. The Beatles also recorded a version – in English – back in the early days. Actually it was one of their earliest recordings, and they used it to audition for Decca. It never made it onto any albums, but you can hear it on the Anthology. There’s also an Elvis version.
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