Elvis Presley - The King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. You hear people say that, people deaf to Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard, Chuck Berry et al, assuming they have heard of them. The King, it’s something they've read in the papers. Clown Prince more like it.
Elvis was a country boy who wandered into Sam Phillips' Sun studios and sung a couple of songs he'd picked up from the poor blacks and whites around him. Sam liked his voice and he liked his style, he put some musicians round him and Elvis was on his way. He performed locally and wowed the girls with a naive sexual performance. Elvis the Pelvis. They stopped that.
The fakery started when Phillips sold Elvis’s contract to Colonel Tom Parker, he wasn’t a colonel, his name wasn't Parker, and he wasn't even an American. An illegal immigrant Parker dared not leave the USA, which is why Elvis did so little overseas touring. Nevertheless the fresh faced, sweet voiced boy became the biggest thing in popular music. But he was not Rock ‘n’ Roll.
Elvis made thirty terrible films and went to Vegas. He squeezed his bulk into tight white suits and sequins and performed nightly to hundreds of middle aged ladies. His repertoire was sentimental slush with a few oldies thrown in to show how dangerous he was. Spoiled he became a drug dependent dollop and died on the toilet eating a hamburger.
By then he was over the hill. It's said how one night when being driven home he saw a roadhouse holding an Elvis competition. He told his chauffeur to pull in and he would give the folks a surprise. He took part under another name and came third.
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