“Only Elvis (battery-acid) Makes Me (Maine) Laugh” 'killfile' Video by @mrjyn
And then there was that, and more than that there could not be, but less would not have been enough.
Joe Guerico conducted the Hilton Las Vegas Orchestra, and was presently riding with the King on tour--a commodious spectacle.
Maestro was a bizarre, pant-suited, Jipster, weighed
down with thick, ropy chains dangling freely down his open-shirted
chest, alternating from Orthodox Jewry to unorthodox jewelry--the first
blinged out Hebrew (never mind), to tour with the Greatest Rock 'n'
Roll Icon of the 20th Century, whose sheer visibility made it impossible
for him to tone down the gold.
When did Elvis Presley first go to Spain?
Elvis Presley has NBtS.
What does it matter?
As soon as you learn Elvis was not allowed to leave the United States we will have less work to do together.
NBtS Lyrics
I
Well, I've never been to Spain But I kinda like the music Say the ladies are insane there And they sure know how to use it They don't abuse it Never gonna lose it I can't refuse it
II
Well, I've never been to England But I kinda like the Beatles Well, I headed for Las Vegas Only made it out to Needles Can you feel it? Must be real, it Feels so good Oh, it feels so good Related
In the final verse, he observes that while he has "never been to heaven," he has "been to Oklahoma," where he was told he was born, implying a kinship between the two places.
III
Well, I've never been to heaven But I've been to Oklahoma Oh, they tell me I was born there But I really don't remember He originally wrote, "... in Oklahoma, born in a coma,"
However, it was considered inappropriate; thus, the lyrics were changed to "not Arizona".In Oklahoma, not Arizona
What does it matter?
-----Billboard-----
first goosebumps horripilate atop softest, quivering horseflesh--downy, dermal, frisson pockmark frotage.
blonde, painted, scintillate papillae, epiderm consistency, as undulate, oxygen narcosis spongedivers were skandalopetra.
Vernean Sea Armor against euphoric fates await, listing drifts, push-pulling in time, synchronic krill kills, among John Ford, sub-sapping reefs, perfectly paired in orange grove hues, faraway, log cabins hewn of fine, maroon Redwood, introduced a tangy cure, insistent on repetitive presentment, nobly ringed aged thing to inveterate bettors of oblong tracks, in stands--heart between hands--service praised, glasses raised: pour la delicieux des Viand de Mirepoix en Eau de Vie Danflou et Roux Sangre Truffe Blanc du Ecrevisse La Louisiane, de l recipe par Toulouse Lautrec avec le Postprandial Specialte, c'est le Coleur de rainbow pour un Pousse en Coquetier, dans le CREATIF.raised again--to gentlemen before roasting spit, swallowed whole seems unbefit, but waste not striving like Jonah 🐳 in the whale rode in. unknown to lovers, telescopist father and son, pair of barn owls in illumined hayloft window, vista encompassing too quick tree fowl, evenligt orbs of smokey hue as help, whose absence was guarantor of doubled dinner due them from bonus round of eyes not made to see through pitch.
Conducting some of the most complex, and by nature of Rock 'n' Roll, portable Rock Charts of his composition--this was not just a mitzvah for Guerico (and ensemble), it was crowning live performance, diamond crowned jewelry which by assessment of a band's members, so dense as to be of note by the least concerned, gravitas preceded them, and then was instantly dwarfed by the only frontman who could: Elvis exclusive 'Gets' got Elvis as much as he could haul around with cushy lives of quiet renown from Music Row, speaking of bucolic, found gospel groups who'd retired-out, or quit (they thought), behind-console, Nashville sessioneer, cosmopolitan Studio System cats making musical topiary worthy of Versailles, but without the immodest demeanor of its queen: legendary musicians ' musician, Chester Atkins, equal to brimming over with musicians rolled in clover and every stripe of song composer, from soft-spoken wordsmith with knack of writing women characters as filthy whores, appraised from count in scraggly drunk, escaped home, self-appraisal this time true, a bent for soft tearjerkers and subtly suggestive men with hearts offset by first stab at writing Rock Songs under pseudonym F. You--first published a lucky homer over the wall smash hit for a regional band no one ever heard: refined, and quiet, stoic command, their 'first favored, most proficiently played,' could fill a lead sheet of diverse accomplishment, God-given life of profession capable of untouchable juggernauts, whose preference, eschewing rehearsal, reveled chagrin of producers and singers in Adrenalin wash, outpacing engineer's Nashville Numbers, over-shoulder, hint intro, like going to war with extra sleep.
sessioner in quiet awe of presentation diamond, navigating caravan--the man who exhorted live performance, unredoubtable instigation to others, insurmountable, the man you grew up with on TV's Ozzie and Harriet, Rick Nelson's right guitar slinger, first, James Burton. Who was / IS James Burton? Are you familiar with the opening Intro Guitar part of that hit single ...? That's who J. B. is!
the caliber and mark of James Burton, Bob Moore, Chester Atkins, Hargus Pig, and hundreds of unnamed Nashville haints who haunt the major label repositories, of their catalogue would they not have been acquired or on loan to the Country Music Hall of Fame downtown for everyone to marvel at the specific -- some would say ephemera of Low Art (and as with the whiff of elitism they enjoy, we revel in our lack of representation of another club which we are happily chained, unconstrained and and a little insane to call a career for a lifetime, preferring the more anonymous and low stature of the catch and catch can lifestyle by which we have come to set our watch (which we don't wear).The respectability of the Performing Arts, those precious, formal representations of the Classics: Dance, Opera, Symphonic Performance, and the Thespian's meat of Dramatic Stage Acting has its place and has even welcomed of late the crossing of boundaries from one to the other only recently and its successes are a tour de force of pure musicianship and love of music, the majority of these early forays into a blending, however, would be better left to the studio vault where they were made.
Priscilla might have chopped instead of hopped one of E's own Karate Guys, who got away with the King's Queen, which Elvis did, in fact, for quite a long while, obsess (like Lenny Bruce did over Law Books).
Elvis obsessed over the very real, never about to happen (hence the book by the first two Guys -- bodyguard defectors with as title of their written for pay tell-all of the secrets of the King, Elvis, What Happened? An interlocutory title they say almost killed the King.
And now he planned to kill the motherfucker who stole Priscilla from him himself --with the help of a huge assortment of lackeys (including Marty) -- at beastly Las Vegas honorariums and Teutonic, shyster con grifts, representing himself a non-com, lamming, rube-hustler (he quit Eddie Arnold as manager once he smelled the porky goodness of the roasted recently Wiener schnitzel down the road, enough to whet chops, coif hops, and enlist dusky Wops in the service of Operation StoneOps, unsuitably working gormless charm whose harmless charmers it were if seen.
Parker's mandated $1 million greenback paydays, which when 50% was ablated, left a flighty dose of a pleasant 1960s stack of $500,000 to Elvis -- Kingwise!
multiply by 100 % for inflation, and by 10 for the number of sequential bombs, astonishingly which Elvis does not show an excessive amount of disdain for in their re-watching.
he did, in fact, pay his manager, colonel Tom Parker, the foremost compensation all told areas of his Brobdingnagian enterprise, up to something north of half earned AND WOULD EARN till THE DAY one or the opposite DIED
I finally perceive Elvis's Coccoon of Safety,where guarded from responsibility at any price, the man whose only and final steerage, it turns out relieves one of worry, woe, and inventive nisus, which others profess loudly to plan as if in a war to do it, crowing only what they suppose is the issue.
The colonel, and therefore the King, each would never apprehend what it truly was which they were doing, but, in very real terms, were -- and by all accounts as we revisit a partnership based on one (of the two men's) trust, and one's avarice, one's uncareful relinquishment of all responsibility never knowing how to recognize it for that, and one, perhaps both, with bragging rights which remain, never having been braggadocio, and even understatement.
But.
it is all attributable to the excessive quantity of narcotics which were provided to the King, and Ann Margret's ass, which occupied his off- Set and LA Mansion time.wherever he and his Guys, and monkey named Scatter, were, uninterrupted in lively playtime reverie which some of his guys, incidentally, had shared the first time they knew each other at school.
extracurricular sturm und drang came howling through Graceland.
that childhood would have the grace to not sink-in until, well, when once it woodenly landed, astray, in brambles, of Graceland bounds, close to Italian Restaurant Coletta's, Home of Memphis's notable BBQ dish and proximate to Elvis's Malt Shop, a search which found them ...
the what to call this thing?
Never needing twisted arms, but only to follow behind his boys and pop-in lollipops, gratis fir der kinder, while mentally assembling lettuce and radishes for his luncheon with Kraftmensch, whom later changed their name to the duo Sturm und Drang, that is to the degree to which outside authority by saving self, devoid or tempered by rationalism—nor by pursuit of noble deeds, suggested the true motives, albeit, perhaps, from revenge or greed.
light opera, albeit intensely tumid and too real for him, but possibly smacking of inauthentic bragging to the redneck family from Mississippi, it being in THEIR appraisal, a dash too much lavender (cape), to far a pinch too much mace (kettledrum to tightly tuned), and for most (or many until much later), handing it to the homosexuals as always, for instant appreciation, like for Garland, Streisand, Cher, and although to much less of an appreciable degree owing mainly for the majority of even homosexuals whose locus was in the Deep South, where coming out to anyone could be a ticket to the morgue.
but I guarantee you a round trip hop and some Rough Trade from Louisville to Monroe to seething Panama City, that there was a whole lotta alternative Christian sex going on which may have helped, not even to say Elvis was at all or in any way one of them, just to say -- he was not one of anyone).
to flee uncolored by anything but purple stars in their eyes, whose raison d'etre it was in which a man became famous for saying this phrase every night of a live Elvis Concert:
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Elvis has left the building!"
The man HAD TO SAY it TO LET THE Bouffant
LADIES AND their REDNECK HUSBANDs /
ELVIS IMPERSONATORS / REGULARS WHO DARED TO leave their NOISOME
SEATS from perspiration /
The
KING
IS ALREADY AT THE HOTEL!
Bouffant
LADIES AND their REDNECK HUSBANDs / ELVIS IMPERSONATORS / REGULARS WHO DARED TO leave their NOISOME SEATS from perspiration /The
KING
IS ALREADY AT THE HOTEL!