e pluribus Elvis

Today marks the twenty-ninth anniversary of Elvis Aaron Presley’s death. On August 16, 1977, the King’s heart, weakened by years of drug abuse and too many deep-fried sandwiches, gave out as he squatted on the toilet in his palatial estate; an absurd yet mythic death for an absurd yet mythic figure.

It is Elvis’s role as a mythic figure that fascinates me. It is a tragic tale of celebrity and success, ruin and rebirth set against the backdrop of the American Century and the concurrent rise of mass consumer culture. A talented poor boy makes it big, only to fall prey to his own voracious appetites, the destructive counsel of self-interested handlers, and a hunger for wholeness that could not be sated by conspicuous consumption. Elvis’s story serves as the Platonic form embodying the distorted sense of perception which accompanies the loftiest peaks of celebrity status and amassed wealth. Its shadows can be glimpsed everywhere these days, from Michael Jackson’s sad antics to Madonna’s delusions about her current relevance.

I wonder how things would have turned out for the King he hadn’t spent over a decade tied up (thanks to his predatory manager, Tom Parker) making progressively awful films with even worse musical numbers. Set free from the stifling confines of his marketing-dictated persona and given access to some the first-rate songwriters and innovative musicians of the sixties, who knows what direction his career could have taken?

While he had no particular love for the Beatles (and bitched about their “anti-American” attitudes to Richard Nixon), Elvis saw Welsh crooner Tom Jones and Brill Building alumnus Neil Diamond as his rivals in the mid-to-late 60’s, suggesting grand pop inclinations consistent with his marvelous post-Hollywood output (“Suspicious Minds”, “Burning Love”). Despite being the seminal figure in the creation of rock’n’roll, Elvis never inextricably locked himself into the genre that way other early rock’n’roll and rockabilly artists did, preferring to see himself part of the broader tradition of pop vocalists.

Ok, enough with my rambling musings and popcult philosophizing, it’s time for today’s tracks.

Elvis Presley - Blue Moon of Kentucky (from The Sun Sessions, 1987) – The b-side to Elvis’s 1954 single, “That’s All Right”, and my personal favorite Elvis track. It’s a revved up cover of a 1947 bluegrass song by Bill Monroe and The Blue Grass Boys. Monroe was so impressed by this rendition that he went back to the studio to record an uptempo version more in line with this one.

Elvis Presley – The Fort Lauderdale Chamber of Commerce (from the Girl Happy soundtrack, 1965) – There were plenty of musical stinkers in Elvis’s films – “Song of the Shrimp”, “Do the Clam”, “Dominic the Impotent Bull” – but this is the one that induces me to curl up in a fetal position on the living room rug. Its faux-Latin/calypso/island mélange has the ethnic sincerity of a cocktail menu at a suburban Polynesian restaurant, and the “chorus” flows like a barrel of bricks emptied down a stairwell. The line “Any male in Fort Lauderdale/who is not pursuing a cute female/will automatically land in jail” is remarkably prescient considering the current backlash against homosexuals in this country. For the record, the number one song of 1965 (the year this song was released) was “Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones -- something to keep in mind while listening to his little gem.

The Dead Milkmen – Going to Graceland (from Bucky Fellini, 1987) – We round out our Elvis tribute with an irreverently silly take on the Cult of the King by Philadelphia’s famed snot rockers. Black velvet painting and thirty dollar commemorative keychain not required.

P.S. If you see happen to see the King shopping for mayonnaise at the Tupelo Piggly Wiggly, please give him my regards.