 |
|
|
|
||
|
<% dim printurl
printurl = Request.ServerVariables("URL")%>
|
|
August
16, 2002, 9:00 a.m. By Kevin Cherry |
|
nless
you believe he's still alive — at the local Food Lion, or on board
a UFO — this week marks the 25th anniversary of the death of Elvis
Presley, America's greatest rock star. That a techno remix of "A
Little Less Conversation" — a song that wasn't a hit for the
King while alive — sits atop charts around the world is testament
to Presley's unique power.
On the surface, Elvis shouldn't have been the biggest rock star of the '50s and '60s. Chuck Berry wrote better songs. Roy Orbison had a better voice. Jerry Lee Lewis played his instrument better. But from the start, it was clear Elvis had something — something no one else did. His first producer, the legendary Sam Phillips of Sun Records, knew it, as did RCA Records, which signed him away from Sun shortly after his recording career began. "Heartbreak Hotel," his first single for RCA, would be a career-topping pinnacle for most other artists. Instead, Elvis made it the first of his many number-one hits.
Phillips is often quoted as saying that if he found a white man who sounded black, he "could make a million dollars." Unfortunately most people think that summarizes Elvis: A white boy who stole black sounds. It's true, of course, that Elvis was greatly influenced by "black" music — the blues, R&B, and gospel. But he was equally influenced by orchestra, pop music, and country. As biographer Peter Guralnick noted, Elvis's version of Arthur Crudup's "That's All Right" doesn't sound like Crudup's version at all — in fact, "it really doesn't sound like anything else." Or as soul singer Jackie Wilson put it: "A lot of people have accused Elvis of stealing the black man's music, when in fact almost every black solo entertainer copied stage mannerisms from Elvis — had always wanted to be like Elvis."
The genesis of Presley's revolution can be found on The Essential '50s Masters, a five-disc set released in 1992. On it, Elvis transforms the rockabilly standards he was raised on into something entirely different before your very ears. "That don't move me," he proclaims before reinventing pop music as we know it. The other volumes in the Essential Masters series — two from the 1960s, one from the 1970s— are equally worthwhile purchases, but their price makes it a bit difficult for all but the diehard fans to justify the purchase.
The best affordable overview of Elvis's career may well be the three-CD set released in 1999, Artist of the Century. It captures the best of Elvis's early years, movie songs, the Hawaiian special, the Vegas years, and the gospel years. (Not that it's perfect: Among other classics, "Crying in the Chapel," a number-three hit in 1965, is nowhere to be found.) Track-by-track liner notes provide the historical context, and quotes from rockers and fans around the world pay homage to the man who changed radio.
In 1958, Elvis — the all-American rock star — joined the Army. Material recorded before he left allowed his career to continue. His number-one rock-star status was threatened briefly by Jerry Lee Lewis, but the Killer quickly ruined his career by marrying his 14-year-old cousin. And when Elvis was released from the Army, he picked up his career where he left off.
Presley's manager, Tom Parker (who was not really a colonel), believed that Elvis's career in rock would be fleeting. Therefore, he sent Presley to Hollywood, as earlier pop stars, like Bing Crosby, had done. Unfortunately, the King — a decent, though unremarkable, actor — never found a movie that really cemented his stardom, although he made more than 30 of them. Elvis himself lamented the formulaic scripts he received: "Same story, different location." He was known to complain that he felt like "a goddamn idiot" in some of the films. That said, a few of the soundtracks are outstanding, and some of the songs from the movies — like "Jailhouse Rock" and "Hard-Headed Woman" — are among his biggest hits. (I'd like to give you a best Elvis movie, but it's awfully hard. Instead, I'll just say that my favorite is Viva Las Vegas, thanks to Ann Margaret.)
Then came the downward spiral. Elvis all but took up residence in Las Vegas, a city that is known to feed the worst vices of the men and women who go there. His weight ballooned, as did his drug use. Occasional recording sessions still provided worthy material — a cover of Dusty Springfield's "You Don't Have to Say You Love Me," "The Wonder of You," for instance — but it came less and less frequently. Onstage, Elvis could still belt his own hits out, but the heart of his concerts came from new material which he appropriated, such as "My Way" and gospel and patriotic standards. The best representation of this period is, of course, the Aloha from Hawaii television special.
But that marked the near-end of Elvis's career. He became increasingly reclusive, especially after a string of hospitalizations in 1975. He still toured, but as footage from a June, 1977, CBS taping shows, his health had deteriorated dramatically. On August 16, 1977, Elvis Presley died, on the floor of his Graceland mansion. The official website states that he died of "heart failure," but later autopsy results show what many must have expected: an overdose of cocaine and barbiturates.
While the last images most people have of Elvis are a bloated man in ridiculous outfits, his handlers have done an admirable job of preserving — and, in some cases, reclaiming — his legacy. Apart from the constant reissues of material in generous packaging and upgraded quality, www.elvis.com is perhaps the most informative website of any rock star, living or dead. Hoping to imitate the success of the Beatles's 1 collection, in late September, record stores will have Elvis 30 #1 Hits, which will provide the first one-disc overview of Presley's biggest hits. (That's not to say his best songs, some of which were never released as singles. Also note that the title is slightly misleading: Not all of the songs were number-one hits in America.)
Elvis started a musical revolution, but the cultural revolution he set off — the gyrating hips on Ed Sullivan, for instance — is tame compared to the antics of Eminem. While he was widely considered a rebel, he was never as rebellious as some of his early rock counterparts (Jerry Lee Lewis). He was always a family man, always patriotic, and always devoted to the gospel songs he loved. He just never grew up; his life was always a fantasy. And for that reason, Bill Buckley's fictional Elvis in the Morning is among the most accurate portrayals of the King. If you feel the need to see Elvis live, get the1968 Elvis! television special. But if you want to remember just what made him the most influential rocker of all time, get out an old 45 of "Heartbreak Hotel," put it on, and close your eyes. Just try to imagine what music would be like without him — not a pretty thought, is it?
— Kevin Cherry is a writer in Virginia.