Elvis Presley: Uncomfortable Icon

Thirty-two years ago this week, a singer died at his palatial home after spending most of his life as a performer who never understood the greed and ignorance of the industry which used him and barely comprehended his talent.
That is the melodramatic way to read the fall of Elvis Presley. In other quarters, it would sound like this: a dumb kid with a glorious voice and a wonderful ability to interpret any song he chose to sing became fat, drug-addicted and died in his bathroom from a combination of bad dietary and pharmaceutical habits which enlarged and damaged his already too-broken heart.
Yes, it is cold to read it that way on the page. But both interpretations contain their own truth. For those people who will spend this August 16th waiting in line to get into Graceland – memorabilia collectors, impersonators, desperate housewives and the just plain curious – the latter paragraph is blasphemy. They need their Elvis, no matter how distant and messed up the life they honour. They need their memories massaged and whatever love they can find restored.
And what is not to love? Elvis was a true performer; a man who loved to be out in front of the audience doing what he came to see as the most natural and untainted act of his overexposed life: singing. And he was born to sing. Listening to Elvis: 30 #1 Hits, it is hard not to have your ears seduced by this release of his chart-topping hits, even if you are like many critics of a particular generation and have never bothered to pick up a Presley recording in your entire life. Yes, he only (co-)wrote two songs (and was much more interested in gospel – his first love – as a musical idiom) but what he chose to cover became classics: Heartbreak Hotel, Don’t Be Cruel, Are You Lonesome Tonight?, All Shook Up, Love Me Tender, Suspicious Minds… The list feels endless and cannot be completely comprehensive.
As well, like any performer worth watching, Elvis knew his audience. His moves may not have been choreographed, but they came from a history of culture clashing as American as it was raw and unsettling. And this is where Elvis becomes a problematic figure. He reinterpreted and remade the moves, attitudes and behaviour of singers and music from different genres into something palatable for both white teenagers and the blue-rinse set.
Not that this was a plan. Again, it must be reiterated that Presley’s approach to music and performance did not come out of a meeting of business executives. His very presence as a performer in 1950s America altered the culture in such a way that the aftershocks still echo throughout the nation and beyond. When he was seen as a danger to the morals of youth, he was a gift. After his stint in the army, he returned to music, including more lamentable films and overlong touring schedules to his life. This turned him into another celebrity casualty. He became an uncomfortable image of all that America can do to those who do not conform while creating their art. He was tamed for all to enjoy.
The last thing that can be said about Elvis is the first thing that should be thought about him: it is impossible to imagine music from the last fifty years – roughly the moment when he joined RCA and became a commercial recording star – without his shimmering presence. Keep this in mind when you think about what it cost him. It is the true tragedy of the Presley story: he was never allowed to escape his own legend.