Saturday, November 21, 2020

Crash-Course, No. 19: The King, the Colonel & the Comeback

Yes, but also no.
[Ed. - This is the first of several rewrites I’ll be posting in order to salvage this project. It originally went up as a post tied to a playlist, only I shoved Elvis Presley together with Julie London (sure), and The Kinks (why not?), so it was too much and too little at the same time; a unique feat, even for me. At any rate, I’m going back to posting on just one artist/band at a time and carrying forward the format that always worked so well for this site’s One Hit No More Project…gods only know why this didn’t come to me sooner. And this is the one time I’ll mention it. Now…The King.]

I can’t fucking believe I thought I’d just casually climb the mountain of iconography around The King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. In practical terms, most people of a certain age (and maybe beyond) have absorbed the key highlights through cultural osmosis – e.g., “the pelvis,” “Hound Dog” (or “Heartbreak Hotel” (quietly brilliant lyrics, btw), “Love Me Tender,” and “Jailhouse Rock,” which still fucking rips), the movies, the cultural appropriation, the Vegas residencies, the thing with Dick Nixon, Fat Elvis….where he (reportedly) died, the fact that - wait, hear me out - Elvis did not die, etc. So, rather than climb that mountain, I wanted to focus on a some things I’ve learned outside that top-line stuff, and also how Elvis reclaimed his career…if only until his pill addiction carried away both it and him.

Ed Ward’s The History of Rock & Roll, 1920-1965 (yes, no typo) has some…just fantastic, touching snippets on Elvis as he tried to break in to the business. In Ward’s telling, Elvis had a reputation for flamboyant style – i.e., he wanted to stand out – but he also talks about how, after his first pay-to-play recording, he checked back every day to see if anything happened. Sam Phillips (who got hella lucky as an amateur producer; also, you’ve probably had some personal experience with his later investments) took some time to like what he heard, there were some snafus between Perkins and his secretary, etc. Other charming details included Elvis’ devotion to his mom, and how shyly he approached…the young Priscilla Beaulieu, later Priscilla Presley, and their subsequent several years of “living in sin” while Beaulieu was still a teenager. They met during Elvis’ stretch in Germany serving in the U.S. Army - she was the daughter of an Air Force colonel (who disapproved of the relationship) - and that wasn’t the only meaningful encounter from those years: a sergeant Elvis served with introduced him to amphetamines, which Elvis liked enough to become “practically evangelical about their benefits.” Still, he focused on being a regular soldier during his time in the Army, which provides a good way to introduce another key player in the story: Colonel Tom Parker.

I’ve heard whispers against “The Colonel” about as often as I’ve heard anything about Elvis. A closer reading of their relationship - though by no means a definitive one - paints a picture where the lines and colors bleed together quite a bit. If you’ve never read about Parker’s past, I recommend it, because it’s a trip - e.g., a Dutch citizen, possibly with a murder rap in his past, he basically fled to the States under alias; a resume heavy with the word “carnival”; joining then going AWOL from the U.S. Army and the resulting dishonorable discharge that would later mean Elvis never played outside the U.S. (with a couple toe-dips into Canada, but only Canada). All in all, he tracks as a common type in early rock history – e.g., an opportunist with a good ear for a tune and a keen eye on the bottom line. While there’s no question Parker was controlling and that he made a killing off of Elvis - his later contracts landed him a 50/50 partnership with anything Elvis did - Presley defended the business side of their arrangement nearly till the end. Their biggest battles came later, and involved fights over creative control and Elvis’ problems with pills and binge-eating.

Parker made the call to have Elvis enlist and serve as a regular solider, as opposed to serving in the Special Services where he could have continued performing. Parker gambled on that “see, he’s just like us” angle to soften objections to Elvis’ music and performances. Wiser still, he had the foresight to have Elvis record a bunch of singles that he could dribble out during his stint in the Army, with an eye to keep fans' interest running hot and feeding his label, RCA Victor, sellable singles. It was a good call, in other words. His decision to tie Elvis to the movie business, on the other hand…

When Elvis returned States-side just as big as he left them, Parker landed on the idea of putting Elvis in the movies - and Elvis liked the idea going in (he saw a more dramatic, serious career...which just makes you sad). Parker envisioned a marketing model where one product served the other - e.g., “the films would promote album releases, while album releases would promote the films”; the album releases, meanwhile, would fulfill Elvis’ obligations to RCA. Though a fine idea on paper, Parker screwed up negotiations on the front-end, signing long-term contracts that gave both Elvis and him a steady income, but that he couldn’t squeeze for more value no matter how well (or badly) any given movie performed. With that avenue closed, he scraped for profits by pinching pennies on the other end:

“To further cheapen the process, producer Hal Wallis decided to shorten filming schedules, almost abandoning rehearsals and retakes. He stopped shooting on location and centered all his activities in the studio. Wallis also resorted to smaller studios, dropping experienced crews. Scenes were limited to long shots, medium shots and close-ups to speed up the process.”

Not surprisingly, all that showed up in all facets of the work:

“As the decade wore on, the quality of the soundtrack songs grew ‘progressively worse.’ Julie Parrish, who appeared in Paradise, Hawaiian Style (1966), says that he disliked many of the songs chosen for his films. The Jordanaires' Gordon Stoker describes how Presley would retreat from the studio microphone: ‘The material was so bad that he felt like he couldn't sing it.’"

As the quality of…just all of it turned to shit, it dragged down Elvis’ career. Moreover, it was something that he wasn't doing that hurt him just as badly: Elvis’ last live performance after his return from the Army happened on March 25, 1961, a benefit concert for funds to build USS Arizona Memorial. He didn’t play single live show until the one that gave his career for a second act.

I’ve always liked the idea of the ’68 Comeback, but without ever fully appreciating all that he had to come back from. A stray line from Best Classic Bands'look back at the special framed it smartly:

“By 1968, though, rock and roll had moved from the British Invasion through folk-rock into psychedelia and progressive rock—and all of that in just the past four years!”

The full story of Singer Presents…Elvis, the show’s official name due to the Singer Sewing Company sponsoring the thing is worth the read, but a couple key details fit in with this story. First, Parker originally pitched the idea as a Christmas special, notably one with business tie-ins to his familiar movie/album business model. Once NBC’s creative people got involved - e.g., Bob Finkel and Steve Binder - they found Elvis ready, even enthusiastic, about performing new material “different from anything he had previously done.” Moreover, “he had no interest in Parker’s opinion of the project.” Bit by bit, the special slipped out of Parker’s hands - e.g., natural banter between Elvis and his band replaced the scripted banter (wtf?) originally planned, and the planned monologue at the end gave way to the special’s iconic song, “If I Can Dream” - and it improved for it each step of the way.

There are some eye-catching notes on the recording of the special - e.g., Parker was supposed to find and fly-in the audience, only to completely drop the ball, getting Elvis in and out the leather jacket he wore between the first and second recording sessions (which involved hair dryers, and cleaning from either the copious sweating or, in one telling, “Steve Binder claimed that Presley's outfit needed cleaning not just because he perspired, but because he had ejaculated while performing.”) - but, when Singer Presents…Elvis aired in December 1968, it was a massive success. 42 million households tuned in to watch it, knocking Laugh-In out of the No. 1 spot, it returned Elvis to live performances for the next five years or thereabouts, and it lead to, for me, his best period. He followed up the special with the album, From Elvis in Memphis, a damned solid album built around the iconic song from his late career, “Suspicious Minds.” To lift another phrase from the Best Classic Bands article:

“This was so masterful a record that a single hearing could leave a listener thinking he had just heard the greatest moment in Presley’s career.”

About the Sampler
Given all the above, it should come as no surprise that I went with material from either side of the movie career that made Elvis a has-been before his time. And, some exceptions aside – e.g., “Jailhouse Rock” and “A Little Less Conversation” – I generally looked past Elvis’ most famous material, at least where the pre-Army stuff is concerned. That said, I have some favorites from his earliest period that made the cut - e.g., “Mystery Train,” “Shake, Rattle & Roll” (which has a cultural history that goes back at least a decade before Elvis), and raw(er) recordings of “That’s All Right,” “Blue Moon” - plus some popular numbers like “Love Me” and “A Mess of Blues.” After that, it’s a lot of post-’68 Comeback material. First, I went…a little nuts on From Elvis in Memphis, and mostly because I hadn’t listened to that one yet. To flag some of those songs (but not all of them), I included “Long Black Limousine,” “Only the Strong Survive,” “Power of My Love” and a couple I have no business loving as much as I do, “In the Ghetto” and “Don’t Cry Daddy.” After that, I reconnected with another favorite album, 1970s Almost in Love, and pulled in “Long Legged Girl (With the Short Dress On)” and a delightful and timely fuck you (to the Southern states), “Clean Up Your Own Backyard.” Finally, I…just can’t bring myself to go deep (or anywhere) on Elvis’ gospel catalog, of which there is a lot, but I did include one straight-up gospel number, “(There’ll Be) Peace in the Valley (for Me).”

Think that’s ample for this chapter. I had fun with it, hope you did too.

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