Elvis Blog Archives — May 2009
Entry #61: Posted May 7, 2009 Those devoted Elvis fans who adhere to a perpetually positive image of the King probably are not going to like this week’s blog. I’m actually going to give my personal Top 10 Least Favorite Elvis Recordings. But c’mon now. Among the hundreds of songs that Elvis recorded, aren’t there at least a handful that you can’t stand listening to? I mean, there are plenty of tunes in his movie soundtrack albums alone that must make even the loyalist Elvis fan cringe. So let’s have some fun comparing my list of Elvis’s worst recordings with your own. In making my own choices, I first eliminated from consideration all the novelty tunes from his movies. That group includes the likes of “Fort Lauderdale Chamber of Commerce,” “Look Out Broadway,” “Old MacDonald,” “Yoga Is As Yoga Does,” and “He’s Your Uncle Not Your Dad.” Bad as they are, these songs are basically dialogue spinoffs and were never intended to be considered as pop recordings. However, the majority of Elvis’s movie songs are eligible for any fan’s lists of most and least favorite Presley songs. Remember, some of Elvis’s best recordings were movie soundtrack songs, like “Love Me Tender,” “Teddy Bear,” “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” and “Return to Sender.” So, just as several movie songs were on my list of favorite Elvis recordings last week, several others are on my list of my least favorite Elvis recordings this week. Before starting my list, let me give the criteria I used in choosing the songs on it. In general, it’s just a matter of personal taste. I simply don’t like the sound of these recordings. The underlying reason differs, however. It’s not always that Elvis did a poor job on the tune, although that is the case on some of them. With others, the song itself is so bad that it would have been a loser no matter who recorded it. The list is in descending order, from my tenth least favorite Elvis recording down to my least, least favorite. 10. “Love Me” OK, I know this one is considered by many to be one of Elvis’s classic recordings. His delivery on the original 1956 recording is fine, but the syrupy lyrics and rhythm of the song make my hand automatically punch the CD advance button as soon as I hear the opening notes. And I’m not the only one who considers this song a loser. Composers Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller have claimed “Love Me” was the worst song they ever wrote. 9. “Fountain of Love” The fault for this one from the “Pot Luck” LP is shared by Elvis and the song’s writers, Bill Giant and Jeff Lewis. No real man (which Elvis certainly was) should be singing lyrics like, “One thought of you, my heart begins yearning. I feel it turn to a fountain of love.” Maybe Lewis is to blame for the song’s girly-man lyrics, as it was the only Elvis song he co-wrote. As for Elvis, he lost me whenever he went into that high-pitched voice, like he did on “Fountain of Love.” 8. “Blue Christmas” Here’s another one of Elvis’s legendary recordings that I never liked. Elvis’s version is considered a Christmas classic, though I’ve never understood why. I blame the Jordanaires for the irritating sound on Elvis’s recording. Their vacillating “o-o-o-os” on the recordings are like fingernails on a blackboard to me. Elvis redeemed himself by singing a beautiful version of “Blue Christmas” on his ’68 Comeback Special. 7. “Fairytale” This one’s all on Elvis. The Pointer Sisters had a hit with their beautiful rendition of the song in 1974. Where was Elvis’s beautiful voice in 1975 when he recorded it? He put way too much volume into the lyrics, like someone who had a couple of drinks to bolster his confidence before taking the mike at a karaoke party. Unfortunately, that was the case with many of his recordings in the final couple years of his life. 6. “It’s Only Love” First of all, the song itself has neither spirit nor a pleasant melody, which is puzzling, considering it was co-written by Mark James, who gave Elvis “Suspicious Minds,” “Moody Blue,” and “Raised on Rock.” But it’s mostly Elvis’s delivery that makes this song difficult to listen to. You can hear the strain in his voice from beginning to end. Elvis certainly could sing a wide range of songs, but this one was beyond him. 5. “Ask Me” This one was released as a single, so someone must have thought it was a good recording. Originally, though, there must have been some concern about it, as Elvis’s May 1963 recording of the song was deemed unusable. He went back into the studio to try it again in January 1964, and it was that version that was eventually released. Again, it’s the high voice, nearing falsetto level in places, that runs counter to my image of Elvis as a hard-driving rock singer. 4. “Startin’ Tonight” I’ve got to call out Lenore Rosenblatt and Victor Millrose for writing this turkey. Elvis himself must have cringed when he heard the demo of this one destined for the Girl Happy soundtrack. It was supposed to be a hard rocker, but instead the lyrics are an embarrassment to Elvis. Example: “Doncha worry if ya land in jail; I’ll forge your mail if ya can’t make bail tonight.” Nuff said. 3. “She Thinks I Still Care” This country song was a hit for George Jones in 1962. For some reason, when Elvis recorded it at Graceland in 1976, he decided to give it a hitch-and-go blues interpretation that totally destroyed the original beauty of the song. In that period Elvis did the same thing to other country songs, like “He’ll Have to Go” and “I’ll Hold You in My Heart.” Elvis would have been better served to sing these songs in the country fashion for which they were intended. 2. “Hey Little Girl” From Harum Scarum, this one is absolutely the worst soundtrack recording of Elvis’s career. It’s the work of Joy Byers, who wrote much better songs for Elvis, including “It Hurts Me” and “Let Yourself Go.” Again, it was designed as a rocker to fit Elvis's style. But the lyrics are inane and the rhythm is AWOL. No self-respecting pop singer would ever have recorded this one. If there was ever a time Elvis should have stood up and said “No,” it should have been when he first heard the demo for “Hey Little Girl.” 1. “Where Do You Come From” Elvis’s beautiful voice was never more evident than on the many ballads he recorded during the 1960s. For some reason he changed his style on “Where Do You Come From.” On it he sounds like he's pretending to be an opera singer trying to sing a pop ballad. His voice slowly pitches up and down in a decidedly unmusical fashion. I’ve resisted listening to this recording ever since it was first released as a single in 1963. The song only spent one week on Billboard’s Top 100, where it peaked at #99. It was the worst performance of any Presley recording to actually reach the chart. But get this! “Where Do You Come From” was still credited with selling over a million copies. The reason—“Return to Sender” on the flip side was the real hit, selling over two million copies. Under some ridiculous accounting system, “Where Do You Come From” was credited with half the total sales, and my least favorite Elvis recording ever wound up with gold record status. Unbelievable! — Alan Hanson
Entry #62: Posted May 14, 2009 I’ve read hundreds of press reports in local newspapers about Elvis’s appearances in dozens of communities in the 1950s. Most of the articles fit into two basic categories: the interview and the day-after concert review. Early in his career, Elvis often gave interviews to individual journalists and disc jockeys prior to doing his show. As his popularity exploded, the growing demand for interviews forced him to adopt the single press conference format in each town. There was a pattern to most of the newspaper articles that resulted from these interviews. They usually included a description of Elvis—how good-looking he was, what he was wearing, etc. The writer then commented on Elvis’s demeanor, particularly how respectful he was—using “sir” and “ma’m” all the time. The bulk of the article, however, was usually a recounting of the questions asked and Elvis’s responses, both of which were repeated over and over from town to town. Once in great while, however, I’ve come across a really unique and well-written newspaper article by a reporter who had the opportunity to interview Elvis. This week I’d like to share one of those articles with you. It was written by a young reporter (an assumption from Elvis’s continually calling her “honey” instead of “ma’m") for the Waco News Tribune. Bea Ramirez interviewed Elvis just before he took the stage in Waco on April 17, 1956. For starters, the interview was unique in that it took place in Elvis’s Cadillac moments before he went on stage. What made Miss Ramirez’s article special, however, was her ability to capture the wonder and insecurity in Elvis, who only recently had found himself caught up in a whirlwind of adulation and controversy. Elvis Gives Out With Crazy Cool Interview By Bea Ramirez Shortly before he was to go on stage at the Heart O’ Texas Coliseum, Elvis Presley, the 21-year-old king of the nation’s rock ’n’ roll set, sat in a darkened Cadillac limousine for an interview—well hidden from the sight of nearly 4,000 screaming, squealing teen-agers who were on hand to welcome him Tuesday night. All the hep cats were there and not enough fuzz (cops). Out in the stands and on the floor, his audience of idolizing teen-agers did all but hiss and boo to rid the stage of a group of other hillbilly entertainers and bring Presley out behind the microphone that he handles more like a limp blonde than a mechanical gadget. Still Elvis made them wait … and he stared out at them, half scared and half unbelieving. Then with some sort of spasmodic movement, he turned to talk about himself. “What do you want to know about me, honey?” “Elvis, have you any idea at all about just what it was that started the girls going crazy over you?” “No, I don’t. I guess it’s just something God gave me. I believe that, you know. Know what I mean, honey? And I am grateful. Only I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’ll go out like a light, just like I came on. Know what I mean, honey?” Presley has a way with that “honey” business. When he talks, he looks straight ahead, or sort of dreamy like in no direction at all. Then he turns with that “know what I mean, honey?” His face is close, real close. Right in your face—almost. “When do you start making your first movie, Elvis?” (Everybody calls him Elvis.) “Oh, early in June, I think, because … ” At this point he stopped talking and stared ahead into the crowd. He squinted his eyes, jerked up a pencil (which had no lead) and began scribbling on the dash of the car. Then he turned and said: “Huh, did you say something?” “Elvis, when you start acting, will you keep the sideburns?” (The sideburns come down below his ears.) “Oh, I don’t know, it depends on what type part they put me in. You know, I’m supposed to do ‘Billy the Kid’ pretty soon.” “But Elvis, ‘Billy the Kid’ has been done to the ground.” “Yeah, I know, but this time it will be different.” The way he says “different” it really will be. “Elvis, will you sing in your first movie?” “No, honey, sure won’t. Going to be in it with Katharine Hepburn and Burt Lancaster, and I won’t sing. I don’t want to, I want to be an actor.” Then he turns and stares into the crowd again, listens to one of the other entertainers singing and grins slowly. “But Elvis, have you thought how unhappy all these girls are going to be if you stop singing?” “Huh, what was that? Oh, I’ll never stop singing, honey, never.” He was beginning to make me wonder if I knew what I was talking about, so I changed the subject: “Elvis, I hear you walk in your sleep.” “Well, I have nightmares.” “What kind?” “I dream I’m about to fight somebody or about to be in a car wreck or that I’m breaking things. Know what I mean, honey?” (I don’t have any idea what he means.) “Where are you from?” “From Memphis, Tenn.” “Oh, yes, that’s where all the hill-billy singers come from, isn’t it?” “Maybe so, but I’m no hill-billy singer.” “Well, have you typed yourself … I mean your type of singing?” “No, I don’t dare.” “Why?” “Cause I’m scared, know what I mean, honey? Real scared.” “What of?” “I don’t know … I don’t know. Know what I mean, honey?” “At this point I thanked him for his time and started to make a beeline for the door. He grabbed my hand, sat there looking sleepy-eyed into my face and fanned his long lashes while he said: “Write me up good, will you honey?” And he drove out to meet the hysterical adoration of young girls and boys whose emotions he has found are easy to stir up with a song.
Entry #63: Posted May 21, 2009 “Just a hunk of rhymin’ love”—That was the headline over a brief wire report in my local newspaper one day last week. The story told of a poem about Elvis Presley written by Irish singer and musician Bono. The poem, entitled “Elvis: American David,” was written back in 1995. It’s in the news these days because, according to the wire report, “The U2 frontman is reading [the] original poem honoring America’s original rocker as part of the BBC’s poetry season.” Although I had never heard of Bono’s Elvis poem before reading about it in the newspaper, it evidently has been around since Bono recorded it near the end of an interview over a decade ago. The article says it was reprinted in an Elvis fan magazine a couple of years later. Bono (born Paul David Hewson in Dublin, Ireland, in1960) is best known as the lead vocalist and lyricist for the Irish rock band U2. Personally, I’ve never gotten into U2’s music, but I have appreciated Bono’s outspoken praise of Elvis’s musical influence through the years. In a 2004 essay in Rolling Stone, Bono recalled his first contact with Elvis at a young age. “I was barely conscious when I saw the ’68 comeback special, at eight years old—which was probably an advantage. I hadn’t the critical faculties to divide the different Elvises into different categories or sort through the contradictions. Pretty much everything I want from guitar, bass and drums was present: a performer annoyed by the distance from his audience; a persona that made a prism of fame’s wide-angle lens; a sexuality matched only by a thirst for God’s instruction.” When it comes to Elvis’s influence on rock music today, Bono is a voice in the wilderness of young rockers who fail to see or acknowledge the connection. “Elvis changed everything—musically, sexually, politically,” he noted in his essay. “In Elvis, you had the whole lot; it’s all there in that elastic voice and body. As he changed shape, so did the world. He was a Fifties-style icon who was what the Sixties were capable of, and then suddenly not … In Elvis, you have the blueprint for rock & roll: the highness—the gospel highs. The mud—the Delta mud, the blues. Sexual liberation. Controversy. Changing the way people feel about the world. It’s all there with Elvis.” In the Rolling Stone essay, Bono went on to tell of U2's trip to Memphis to record at Sun Studio, which he termed “the scene of rock & roll’s big bang.” There he tried to reproduce the “leanness but not the meanness” that he had heard in Elvis’s Sun sides. “The King didn’t know he was King yet,” Bono sensed. “It’s haunted, hunted, spooky music. Elvis doesn’t know where the train will take him, and that’s why we want to be passengers.” Although Bono saw the Vegas period as “underrated,” he lamented Elvis’s loss of control during those years. He closed his essay as follows: “Why is it that we want our idols to die on a cross of their own making, and if they don’t, we want our money back? But you know, Elvis ate America before America ate him.” That last observation brings us back to Bono’s poem, written nine years before his 2004 Rolling Stone essay. “Elvis ate America before America ate him” is a line from “Elvis: American David.” The 661-word poem is certainly not Shakespearean stuff, but it obviously came from the heart. Every one of its 108 single line stanzas begins with the word “elvis.” It’s a mish-mash of biographical statements; Elvis song titles and lyrics; and expressions of Presley’s continuing influence on culture and rock music. Occasionally, lines rhyme, such as in: “elvis wore a gold nudie suit and trained his lip to curl. elvis was macho, but could sing like a girl.” But most lines simply stand by themselves, as if entries on a long list of observations about Elvis that came to Bono through the years. He uses some lines to simply state his opinions about Elvis’s career. A few examples follow: “elvis was the most famous singer in the world since king david.” “elvis the movie star made three good movies: viva las vegas, flaming star, and jailhouse rock.” “elvis sang black except in lower registers where he was a student of dean martin.” The poem also contains many testimonials about Elvis’s legacy. Such as: “elvis delivered the world from crooning.” “elvis invented the beatles.” “elvis the hillbilly brought rhythm to the white race, blues to pop, and rock’n’roll to where ever rock’n’roll is.” The most interesting passages in Bono’s poem, however, involve figurative images—metaphors and contradictions that capture the essence of Elvis. Below are just of few of the poem’s thought-provoking lines. “elvis lived on his own street.” “elvis is alive, we’re dead.” “elvis woke up to whispers.” “elvis had an acute intelligence disguised as talent.” “elvis called God every morning then left the phone off the hook.” A set of three lines in the middle of Bono’s poem, however, caught my attention the most. They reveal the main contradiction of Elvis’s life—how he could hurt those closest to him, while, at the same time, warm the hearts of millions of people he never knew. Those lines read: “elvis broke priscilla’s heart.” “elvis broke lisa marie’s heart.” “elvis woke up my heart.” Bono's poem will never qualify as a classic, but as a high-profile and respected advocate of Elvis Presley’s legacy, Bono deserves the appreciation of all Elvis fans. When he speaks of Elvis’s continuing influence, it can’t help but cause many in the music business’s younger generation, who have never felt a connection with Elvis, to at least sit up and take notice. Bono closed his “Elvis: American David” with the following three lines. “elvis forgive us. elvis pray for us. elvis aaron presley (1935-1977)”
Entry #64: Posted May 21, 2009 In its March 7, 1960, issue, Billboard reported the following: “RCA Victor has devised a most elaborate piece of distributive machinery for handling what is expected to be a smash hit—but the record hasn’t been recorded yet. Moreover, there is reason to believe that the song hasn’t even been chosen. The disk in question is the first by Elvis Presley since his return to the United States.” Billboard also reported that RCA predicted the unnamed, unrecorded Presley single would sell about two million copies, but the company “conservatively” decided on an initial pressing of one million copies. One million copies—instant Gold Record status—a phantom record to be manufactured and distributed to a public expected to buy it no matter what it sounded like. In 1960 such a circumstance in the recording industry was unheard of. Up until then, when recording companies released single disks—even by the most popular artists—success depended on two conditions. First, getting radio stations to play the single on the air, and second, hoping the tune caught on with the public. With Elvis’s first single release of 1960, RCA simply assumed both would happen and prepared to press a million copies. To understand how Elvis Presley could rate such royal treatment, you have to go back two years, to March 24, 1958, when Elvis was inducted into the U.S. Army. Many civic and religious leaders, along with a whole host of parents of teenage girls, were relieved that Presley’s corrupting influence on American culture was finally coming to an end. Surely the Elvis fad would die after two years of exile in the army. There were two factors in play, however, that Presley’s detractors didn’t count on. First, through his 1950s movies and personal appearances, Elvis had built an enormous loyal fan base. They were mainly young teenagers, and, as older teenagers, they would be waiting for him when he came home from the army. The second factor was the marketing brilliance of Colonel Parker. He kept his boy’s name alive in the music business by periodically releasing Elvis records during his two years in the service. Most of the singles from this period came from recording sessions in February and June 1958. However, there were no movies or appearances on stage or TV during Elvis’s stint in the army. Colonel Parker correctly surmised that keeping his boy out of sight for those two years would heighten public anticipation when Elvis returned to the entertainment spotlight in 1960. Putting the hottest property in the history of show business under wraps for two years was a risky strategy, but that it worked in Presley’s case is just another example of Tom Parker’s genius in guiding Elvis’s career in its formative years. After Elvis was discharged from the army on March 5, 1960, his show business career immediately began clicking on all cylinders. That same month a TV appearance on Frank Sinatra’s special was filmed, and two months later he was in Hollywood filming a new movie, G.I. Blues. The first order of business, however, was to get some new recordings on the market. Elvis hadn’t been in a recording studio for 21 months, and the cupboard was bare at RCA. The main objective was to produce the phantom single that Billboard had reported on in its March 7 issue. RCA had prepared well in advance for the new single, whatever it might be. A record number—7740—had been assigned to the disk while Elvis was still in the army, and Billboard reported that sales quotas for each of RCA’s 21 major distributors were already set. Quotas for some leading markets were: New York, 72,000; Chicago, 56,000; Detroit, 42,000; San Francisco, 38,000. “The initial pressing of a million surprises no one,” Billboard reported, “considering the hoop-la expected to accompany the disk. Soon after Presley became established as a phenom three years ago, his standard first pressing was 1,300,000 copies. Shortly before his Army induction, when Elvis platters settled down to an average sale of 1,300,000, initial pressings were proportionally cut to 700,000.” The phantom record’s picture sleeves were also ready to go, as Ernst Jorgensen explained in his 1998 book, Elvis Presley: A Life in Music. “RCA had already printed generic sleeves for the new 45 with two pre-army photos and a hole in the center so record-buyers could read the label; the only legend on the cover itself read ‘Elvis’ 1st New Recording for His 50,000,000 Fans All Over the World,’ just in case Elvis decided to substitute a different song at the last minute.” Although in early 1960 no one knew the title of the new single, Billboard speculated on the nature of the tune in its March 7 article. “The big question unanswered by the detailed plans was ‘What kind of tune will Presley’s first be?’ Admirers of the Elvis Presley-Tom Parker genius for doing the unexpected were up a tree trying to outguess the pair. But one Mid-western distrib took a safe and sound position: ‘I’ll bet you it’ll be a rock tune on one side and a slow one on the other.’” The distributor was right on. “Stuck on You,” a rocker, was chosen for the A side, and a ballad, “Fame and Fortune,” was selected for the slip side. Elvis recorded both in the early morning hours of March 21, 1960, at RCA’s Studio B in Nashville. The master was rushed to RCA’s pressing plant, and a million copies were churned out. The records were sleeved, boxed, and rushed to distributors. Incredibly, Elvis’s new single began showing up on record store racks barely a week after it was recorded. On March 30, 1960, Variety reviewed the new record as follows. “Elvis Presley’s ‘Stuck on You’ takes over where he left off before the Army hitch, despite the intervening furor over rock ’n’ roll. It’s a swinging natural that won’t be stopped anywhere on the spinning circuit.” Today “Stuck on You” is recognized as one of Elvis’s biggest hits of the 1960s. Within a month of its release in late March 1960, it sat atop Billboard’s Top 100 chart and stayed there for four weeks. Forgotten is the significance of the record, that it was a million-seller, a Gold Record, before anyone even knew the song’s title, much less heard it. Like no other song he ever recorded, “Stuck on You” testifies to Elvis Presley’s enduring and overwhelming popularity—that he could be exiled from the entertainment world’s spotlight for two years and return every bit as popular as when he left it. Can you think of any other recording artist that could have done the same? I can’t. — Alan Hanson Go to Blog Archives 2009
|
