The King is dead. Long live the King. Dead since 1977, life seems eternal for Elvis Presley in western pop culture. Two days ago, he would have celebrated his 75th birthday. Chances are you've heard all about it. "Elvis Presley, that rare breed of talent that comes along maybe three times a century...." At the risk of blasphemy, I find myself wondering what all the fuss is really about.
Let's start by acknowledging that Elvis was a groundbreaking performer who electrified and galvanized a hungry, bored, white American audience starting in 1956. He infused rock 'n roll songs with a style and energy not previously seen. His hip movements alone created such a stir that worried parents sought legislation to censor the King, adding to the legend. Aside from The Beatles, I can't think of another musical act that has seized the attention of teenage America which such sudden, pandemic enthusiasm.
For several years, we couldn't get enough of it. The King's fame survived a two year hiatus in the military and launched a successful acting career despite Elvis' limited talents as a thespian (here, I am defining success strictly on a box-office basis; the movies ranged in quality from mediocre to wretched). Once his four or five years as a chart-topping singer passed, he still managed an occasional second tier hit. Thanks to Las Vegas and two much publicized television specials, he managed to parlay his earlier fame into a state of tremendous financial security. And somehow, in spite of weight gain, a conspicuous tendency toward personal overindulgence and obscenely garish wardrobe choices, his hold over a large, loyal audience has continued to this day with no end in sight.
Why does the memory of Elvis have such staying power? As an artist, he never wrote a hit song (it is widely acknowledged that on the 8 songs where he is listed as co-writer, he made no contributions). His guitar skills were so modest that early in his career, he ditched the instrument. Even his breakout performances of rock songs such as "Hound Dog" are clearly derivative of performances by black artists that went unnoticed by white America. And young Elvis' incendiary performance style has nothing on Cab Calloway's wildest musical histrionics from the 30's.
But that's just it. In Elvis, America was exposed to something new, exciting and slightly terrifying---a white man playing black music without inhibition. And since so few had heard such music, and boy were we ready for something new, history was made. So to the musical geniuses that followed (Buddy Holly, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee Lewis and many more, guys who actually could write songs, play instruments, offer dazzling performances and expand the genre), as great as they all were, at the end of the day, Elvis stands alone as a cultural icon.
Of course we overlook his personal shortcomings. Most musicians have enough baggage to make a politician blush. But focusing strictly on Elvis' musical contributions, and comparing them with those of his contemporaries, is it unfair of me to suggest that his legacy is disproportionate to his body of work? Does it seem just that this performer is widely described as a talent so transcendent as to come along but three times in a century? For those who subscribe to this view, I respectfully beg to differ.
A short list of those whose contributions to music since the time of Elvis who, in my book, deserve equal or better recognition for their contributions to our musical heritage:
1. Bob Dylan
2. John Lennon
3. Paul McCartney
4. Bruce Springsteen
5. Jagger/Richards
6. U2
7. Buddy Holly
8. Jimi Hendrix
9. Clapton in all forms (solo, Cream, Derek & the Dominoes, etc)
10. Bob Marley
11. Paul Simon
12. Ray Charles
13. Fats Domino
14. Michael Jackson
You could even make a case that Elvis is not the most musically worthy or talented guy by the name of Elvis, because damn, Elvis Costello is outstanding! I could go on. I'll stop. I rest my case. May the King rest in peace.
