
I’ve long believed that From Elvis In Memphis is one of the Top Ten greatest rock albums of all time, indeed one of the greatest works of American popular music, period. It outstrips even some of Elvis’s 1950s hits. I’d damn sure rather listen to “Wearin’ That Loved On Look” or “Long Black Limousine” than “Love Me Tender.” It’s an astonishing album; it combines soul, country, gospel, blues and rock ’n’ roll into a churning, hip-shaking, foot-tapping blend that’s about as uniquely American as it’s possible to be, and that’s before you add Elvis’s sublime, breathtakingly powerful vocal performance into the mix. But it was more than just a one-time achievement, a brief flare before an eight-year descent into darkness, as the mythology has it. No, he never equaled it again; even Back In Memphis, which featured tracks from the same sessions, is in some ways a pale shadow of its big brother. But. But. From Elvis In Memphis was absolutely the sound of Elvis beginning a creative resurgence, after the miasma of the Hollywood years. And if you listen to the 1970s studio albums, the way I’ve been doing the past few weeks, you realize that he managed to bring a surprising amount of energy and commitment into the studio all the way into 1975, if not until the absolute end of his life.
It wasn’t until the 1970s that Elvis really started making albums that worked as albums; in the ’50s, RCA pumped out collections of singles, B-sides and filler, as was industry standard. And in the ’60s, his discography consisted primarily of movie soundtracks – albums, yes, but neither the product of a focused artistic strategy or made under conditions that inspired Elvis to do his best. So 1969 was, in effect, the beginning of his career as an album artist – it took him five to seven years to make a move other pop/rock musicians had begun making at the beginning of the 1960s.
But albums like Elvis Now, Today, and particularly the trilogy of Raised On Rock, Good Times and Promised Land, all recorded at a few marathon sessions in 1973 (at the Stax studio, among other places) but released one a year through 1975, are powerful slabs of Elvisiana. For a guy who didn’t write lyrics and whose guitar and piano playing was far from virtuosic, he really put his stamp on a song. There are some genuinely weird moments from this period - Elvis Country (I’m 10,000 Years Old), with its snippets of the title spiritual serving as bridges between versions of “Funny How Time Slips Away,” “The Fool,” “I Really Don’t Want To Know,” etc., is probably the weirdest album, but 1973’s Elvis has some head-spinning tracks, too, particularly the album-closing blast through Bob Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right.”

I'm not joking or crazy when I say that if I had to choose, right now and irrevocably, I would happily spend the rest of my life listening to 1969-77 Elvis even if it meant I could never hear 1953-1957 Elvis again.
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