Review of
Elvis In
Concert at
the
International
Hotel in
August 1969,
originally
published by
Rolling
Stone
magazine on
February
21, 1970.
Elvis was
Supernatural,
his own
resurrection,
at the
Showroom
International
in Las Vegas
last August.
Everyone
complained
that Las
Vegas was a
bad choice,
but you only
have to look
at the old
colour
publicity
photos of
Elvis to
know why it
was the only
possible
place for
him to make
his debut
after nine
years of
hibernation:
The iconic,
frontal
image,
completely
symmetrical,
stares out
of the
glossy blue
background.
The glaring
eyes, the
surly mouth,
the texture
of the face
completely
airbrushed
out, the
hair jet
black with
blue
metallic
streaks �
these are
superhuman
attributes.
It is the
disembodied
face of
Krishna,
Christ, Mao,
where the
image
dominates
the reality.
The
adherence to
this formula
has been so
dogmatic
that until
recently you
were in
danger of a
lawsuit from
the Colonel
if you used
a photo of
Elvis that
was not the
officially-sanctioned
publicity
handout.
Elvis
Presley
International
Hotel 1969
As you drove
in from the
airport, the
giant neon
billboard
for the
Showroom
Internationale
flashed
'Elvis In
Person' in
20-foot
letters of
solid light.
In person,
in the
flesh; the
word, the
voice, the
image, made
flesh. The
distinction
has to be
made, for
Elvis has
been
invisible
for nine
years.
Like the
Temptation
of Saint
Anthony, Las
Vegas
bristles
with
absurdities;
it reeks of
unreality.
Its
suddenness
in the
desert is a
thirst-demented
prospector's
hallucination;
the neon
totems on
the Strip
pumping
liquid light
into the
brain like
pulsating
neurons, the
endless
chrome
dispensers
of fate in
the casinos,
and the
total
absence of
time (there
are no
clocks in
Las Vegas).
Even the
room you are
staying in
is wildly
improbable;
the colour
TV on its
Renaissance
stand, an
octagonal
quattrocento
breakfast
table under
a fake
Renoir. From
a distance
of five feet
everything
seems to be
made of some
incredibly
ancient
worm-eaten
wood. In
fact, it's
not even
wood.
It's just
the ultimate
transubstantiation,
some
synthetic
substance
that can be
excreted
into any
conceivable
shape. It's
obvious �
Las Vegas is
the only
place for
the
materialization
of a
Hollywood
divinity,
the re-entry
of the
celluloid
image into
the real
world.
Even Elvis
seemed to
find his
reincarnation
hard to
believe.
Mumbling, "Whass
that, whass
that?" He
suddenly
interrupted
one of his
long
monologues
like a speed
flash � "Oh,
it's okay,
its me, it's
me!" And it
was hard to
believe as
the curtain
finally went
up for the
third time
on Elvis.
His head
hung down,
legs braced
for his
defiant
stance and
an acoustic
guitar
symbolically
slung around
his neck.
Elvis
Presley
International
Hotel 1969
Waaal, It's
one for the
money, two
for the
show,
Three to get
ready, now
go cat go...
Wham! Right
into 'Blue
Suede Shoes'
before you
have time to
take in the
whole scene.
You are out
of control,
breathlessly
slippin' and
slidin'
backward,
faster and
faster into
the past. An
incredible
rush, and it
flashes at
you all the
faster
because
Elvis is
singing it
at almost
twice the
speed of the
old single,
so that it
lasts in all
about a
minute and a
quarter. As
soon as it's
over he
tears into
another hard
rocker from
his first
RCA album:
Well, said I
got a woman
way 'cross
town
She's good
to me, oh
yeah...
and the
Sweet
Inspirations
echo "she's
good to me,"
pumping back
that gospel
rhythm like
a piston.
He pauses a
moment and
for the
first time
you can take
everything
in. Elvis is
wearing a
blue karate
jump suit
with a long
karate belt.
His
bellbottoms
have bright
red satin
vents and
he's wearing
a red and
white scarf
around his
neck. His
black
pointed
boots have
studs on the
toes and
heels. His
hair is cut
in a short
Beatle
fringe at
the front
but he's
still
wearing the
Presley
sideburns.
Behind him
is a
six-piece
band from
Memphis and
behind them
a
twenty-five
piece
orchestra
silhouetted
by glowing
backdrop
lighting
that oozes
through a
syrupy range
of
chartreuse,
cerise and
aquamarine.
To his right
are the
Sweet
Inspirations,
a soul group
that
preceded him
with some
insipid
versions of
show tunes.
Behind them,
Elvis' own
back-up
group, the
Imperials,
neatly
dressed in
blazers.
Elvis
speaks.
"Viva Las
Vegas", he
says,
laughing;
"no, man,
that's one
man, that's
one number I
ain't gonna
do" �
unexpectedly
revealing
his attitude
to the
twelve years
of schlock
movies.
"Welcome to
the Showroom
Internationale,
ladies and
gentlemen.
This is
somethin'
else, ain't
it? Lookin'
'round at
all them
decorations,
funky angels
hangin' from
the ceilin'...
tell ya
there ain't
nothin' like
a funky
angel, boy."
Presiding
over the
gigantic
dining room
and its
2,000 paying
guests are a
giant
20-foot pair
of papier
mach�
statues
representing
Marie
Antoinette
and Louis
XIV, holding
a lace
handkerchief
the size of
a
tablecloth,
and from the
ceiling hang
a pair of
gargantuan
cherubs
exchanging a
length of
cream satin
material.
Above the
stage
there's a
dumpy coat
of arms,
strictly
from Walt
Disney.
Funky.
"Well, here
we go
again," says
Elvis as he
leans into a
classic
Presley
contraposto.
He's putting
himself on.
Elvis
imitating
Elvis. He
holds it
until
everybody
catches on
and laughs.
"uhuhmmmmmmmm,
uhuhmmmmmmmm,
uhuhmmmmmmmm..."
"Here it
comes," he
says in a
tiny mocking
voice,
interrupting
himself like
a
self-contained
Laugh-In. He
goes into
the classic
Elvis
warm-up, a
deep,
guttural,
purring,
humming of
soft
internal
combustion,
reviving up
as he
lurches into
epileptic
rhythms of
'All Shook
Up'. It
really blows
your mind to
see Elvis
doing his
imitation
Elvis. He is
very good at
it; he looks
like he's
been
rehearsing
the part for
13 years,
and it's
probably got
a lot of
laughs all
these years
from his
buddies up
at
Graceland,
sitting
around
drinking
Pepsis on
nights when
everyone got
tired of
playing pool
and watching
color
television.
Elvis' back
band is
tight and
probably a
lot better
as musicians
than Bill
Black and
Scotty
Moore, who
played on
Elvis' early
disks, but
the sound is
bland and
professional.
The
arrangements,
too, are
more
stylized
than the
originals.
The
drumming,
for
instance, is
very
syncopated,
especially
in the fast
numbers,
imitating
the
percussive
hiccuping
quality of
Elvis' voice
in songs
like 'All
Shook Up'
("I'm in
love" � boom
boom boom).
The
stylization
has the
effect of
putting the
music in
parentheses,
quoting it,
putting it
in
perspective,
putting it
on. Elvis
introduces
the lead
guitarist
jokingly as
B. B. King
or Lightnin'
Hopkins and
his licks
are very
tasteful
1969 blues
licks.
Elvis
singing 'All
Shook Up' is
a put-on
too, of
course, but
it's a
serious
put-on; he's
putting on a
whole era,
he's putting
on the '50s.
He's the
medium and
this ritual
is so
drenched in
memory, time
and
remoteness
that his act
is a violent
manipulation
of the
audience's
heads. The
memory
floats back
to the first
time
everyone
heard 'Hound
Dog' and the
details of
that day,
that
afternoon,
come
flashing up
like a rainy
windshield.
And Elvis is
the man who
knocked out
a whole
generation,
a whole
civilization.
Elvis, with
his unfunky
(yet
mechanical,
alienated)
bump-grinding,
was still
too much
Body (too
soon) for
the
strained,
collapsing
psyches of
the
Omnipotent
Administrators
and
Ultrafeminines...
So Elvis
Presley
came,
strumming a
weird guitar
and wagging
his tail
across the
continent,
ripping off
fame and
fortune as
he scrunched
his way,
and, like a
latter-day
Johnny
Appleseed,
sowing seeds
of new
rhythm and
style in the
white souls
of white
youth of
America,
whose inner
hunger and
need was no
longer
satisfied
with
antiseptic
white shoes
and whiter
songs of Pat
Boone. "You
can do
anything,"
sang Elvis
to Pat
Boone's
white shoes
"but don't
you step on
my blue
suede
shoes!" -
Eldridge
Cleaver,
Soul on Ice
See, in this
corner there
was Ike
'Nukeler'
Eisenhower,
and over in
that corner
was Elvis
the Pelvis.
Man, it was
a massacre.
After a
pause to
catch his
breath,
Elvis
modestly
mumbles,
"This is my
first
personal
appearance
in nine
years."
Thunderous
applause,
and from the
balcony a
couple of
kids are
shouting,
"Dynamite,
baby, too
much." But
the audience
is
super-straight,
mostly
middle-aged
people with
children and
affluent old
Elvis fans
in their
late
thirties,
their
ducktails
trimmed into
neat
executive
crewcuts,
their
leather
jackets
turned in
for
seersucker
suits.
The silicone
couples in
their
After-Six
tuxedos and
dynel wigs
would not
admit it but
what they
were paying
$15 a plate
for is a
Resurrection.
They have
embalmed him
like the
queen bee �
with love,
money,
energy, and
in return he
performs the
precious
ritual.
Elvis ambles
over to get
a glass of "wa-uh."
"It's so dry
here in Las
Vegas, seems
as if I'm
gonna have a
little
trouble with
my thang �
[laughter]...
you know, my
throat. This
stuff here
is called
Gatorade,
'cause it
aids you
gator. Just
do a little
commercial
here: 'Use
this here
Gatorade and
you...' but
really it's
meant to be
ten times
better than
water. ..
'n' boy, it
sure looks
to me like
it's already
bin used!"
That looks
pretty lame
in cold
print, but
it was a
different
thing when
it was said
with that
Elvis drawl,
everything
mumbled out
of the side
of his mouth
so that
every line
is thrown
away as
casually as
spittin'
tobacco. His
Memphis
buddies
would laugh
at a line
like that
and they
probably
have,
yukking it
up
backstage.
Later, in
the casino,
Tony Secunda
was talking
about the
scene in the
dressing
room: "All
his buddies
were there,
it was a
very tense
situation,
glances,
messages
flashing
around the
room; you
could feel
the
electricity.
It was
embarrassing,
you know,
they laugh
at
absolutely
everything
he says. I
said to
Elvis, 'You
probably
know each
other so
well, all
you need is
a look and
you know.'
He said,
'Sometimes
you don't
even need
that.' It's
a scary
scene." You
wonder what
he's been
doing all
these years
behind the
electronic
gates at
Graceland
and when you
find out,
the
revelations
are about as
inspiring as
a rerun of
The Beverly
Hillbillies.
"This next
song is one
of the first
things I
recorded for
RCA back in
nineteen
hundred and
twenty-seven..."
Into 'Love
Me Tender'.
Really heavy
string
arrangement,
and in the
background
the
schmaltzy
lighting is
having an
orgasm. It's
a tearjerker
alright, but
Elvis does
it with
style, Sweet
Inspirations
cooing, the
majestic
sweeping
strings, and
Elvis' deep
crooning
voice washes
over the
room like a
Technicolor
wave, and
the audience
is swept up
on the
shores of
Memory Lane
as
helplessly
as an old
hula hoop on
Miami Beach.
Elvis, the
ballad
singer, has
always been
at home with
sentimentality;
he can carry
it. He has
pulled off
some really
heavy
tearjerkers
beautifully
that would
have crushed
a lesser
crooner
under the
sheer weight
of goo. It's
just the
white
version of
the kind of
thing Levi
of the Four
Tops gets
into when
he's being
"real
sincere".
As Elvis
gets ready
for the next
number, his
hips begin
shaking,
"Down, boy!"
and his hand
is strumming
the guitar
like an
invisible
machine gun.
"Had a
little
trouble with
that when I
was over
there in the
army. They
give me a
rifle and
right away
I'd be goin'
pow! Pow!
Pow! � yes
sir" He lays
into
'Jailhouse
Rock'; after
two verses
he switches
into 'Don't
Be Cruel',
then
'Heartbreak
Hotel'.
He's
panting,
really out
of breath as
he winds up
'Heart-
break
Hotel'.
"Tell ya,
body, mind,
everything's
goin', man.
Deteriorating
right here
on the
stage...
that's what
it's about
come to for
sure. Anyway
I'd like to
dedicate
this special
song
here..." He
crouches
over in that
raunchy
Presley
starting
position,
neck of his
guitar
practically
touching the
floor.
Everyone
cracks up.
"See, I
looked her
square in
the eye,
'cause that
was all she
had, one big
square eye.
I said
'baby,' she
said
'mmmmmmm.'
She was a
weird kinda
girl. She
had on a
guitar too
and we were
both going
'hmmmmmnnm.'
So anyway I
said 'baby'
'n she said
'deeper,
baby,
deeper.' I
got up real
close to her
face 'n I
was goin' �
[croaks] �
'uhnnn,
uhnnn, uh
nnn.' See
she split
'cause she
thought I
was a frog.
Anyway my
legs were
gettin'
tired in
this
position so
she asks me
'hmmmmmmm?'
[croaks into
the mike].
See, she had
on a
microphone
too. So I
cleared my
throat�[clears
his throat
over the
P.A.];
that's
another
thing you
don't do
over the
microphone..."
It's like an
old radio
show with
one of those
purple
people-eater
lead-ins.
Super teen
humor � "So
I went up to
this green
thing with
four red
eyeballs and
nine hairy
legs..."
Elvis
continues:
"So I said
'YOU!' blew
her hair
straight
back, man. I
said:
"YOU...
ain't nothin'
but a houn'
dog..."
'Can't Stop
Loving You'
is his next
number. The
band pauses
while he
chokes up
"those happy
hours" like
an ancient
whisper, and
lines like
"I live my
life in
dreams of
yester...
daaay" come
out, like
some other
songs in the
show, as
more than a
little
symbolic.
"One of the
first
records I
ever
recorded...
I did about
five records
before
anyone
realized who
I was. One
of them is
pretty
raunchy...
my nose was
runnin', my
eyes, my
ears...
[grunts].
Well, here
we go, I
guess..."
�and then he
stops
abruptly in
a dazed way
as if he
were pretty
stoned on
something
himself. "We
already did
this song,
right?" The
song is
'Mystery
Train',
country
blues, one
of the old
Sun
releases, a
muted
trumpet
honks:
"Train comin'
roun' the
bend."
Just about
the time
that train
is comin'
'round the
bend right
there into
"I'm the
king of the
jungle, they
call me
tiger"
boom/boom/boom/boom/boom.
A strobe
flashes in
time to the
syncopated
drum-bass-tambourine
on Elvis
leaping
about the
stage.
"Like to
tell you a
little about
myself. I
started
out... in
childhood. I
started out
when I was
in high
school, wen
into a
record
company one
day, made a
record and
when the
record came
out a lot of
people liked
it and you
could hear
folks around
town saying
'Is he, is
he?' and I'm
goin 'Am I,
am I?'...
[whew out of
breath]...
Elvis
deteriorating
at the
Showroom
Internationale
in Las Vegas
. . where
was I?...
oh, anyway,
made a
record, got
kind: big in
my home
town, few
people got
to know who
I was that's
double ya,
yew zee,
was. See, so
I started
down in the
wuz [he
really must
be
stoned]...
ah shucks,
what I mean
to tell ya
is I was
playing
around these
nightclubs,
alleys 'n
things; did
that for
about a year
and a half,
then I ran
into Colonel
Sanders�Parker,
Parker and
he arranged
to get me
some [blows
his nose]
Kleenex...
he arranged
to get me...
whew. I'm
telling
you... shot
to hell,
this no;
can't even
finish a
sentence
straight...
anyway there
was a lot of
controversy
at that time
about my
moving
around on
stage so
I... cleared
my throat
again,
looked at
nor watch
and ring and
the guy
said... the
guy said?...
the guy said
nothin'...
I'm the guy!
I'm telling
you, you
better get
this
together,
boy, or this
is gonna be
the last
time they
let you up
on a stage.
"So, as I
said, I went
up to New
York, did
the Jackie
Gleason Show
three times
� whew, sure
has been a
long long
time �
anyway, did
that couple
of times...
had pretty;
long hair
for that
time, and I
tell you it
got pretty
weird. They
used to see
me comin'
down the
street and
they'd say
'Hot dang,
let's get
him, he's a
squirrel,
get him, he
just come
down outta
the
trees'...
Well,
anyway, did
the Ed's
Sullivan
Show. They
just shot me
from the
waist up.
Ed' standing
there in the
wings saying
'Sonofabitch!
Sonofabitch!'
I didn't
know what he
was saying
so I'd say,
Thank you
very much,
Mr.
Sullivan.'
"Next thing,
they dressed
me up in a
tuxedo and
had me
singing to a
dog on a
stool; you
know I'm
singing to
this dog 'n
the dog is
going "Whooooogh!'
and I'm
going 'Whoooooghl'
Then I got
into the
movies. King
Creole,
Jailhouse
Rock, Love
Me Tender,
Loving You,
loving
her... So
I'd done
four movies
and I was
feeling
pretty good
with myself,
had a pair
of
sunglasses
and was
sitting
there in my
Cadillac
going: I'm a
movie star,
hot damn!'
and the
driver's
going,
'Whew, watch
that
squirrel,
man, he's
just out of
the trees.'
I was livin'
it up pretty
good there
for a while
and then I
got drafted,
and shafted
and
everything
else. One
thing I
found out,
though, is
that guys
really miss
their
parents in
the army,
they're
always going
around
calling each
other
'mother.'
When I got
out I did a
few more
movies, and
a few more
movies, and
I got into a
rut, you
know there's
this big rut
just the
other side
of Hollywood
Boulevard...
Pow!... you
know they
let me do my
thang here
for a while
and then
they'll put
me away for
another nine
years..."
Elvis straps
on an
electric
guitar,
tunes it,
pretends not
to be able
to play it
and then
gets into
the classic
second and
third string
rhythm
progression,
dum-de-dum-de-dum-de-dum...
We're goin'
up, we're
goin'
down...
Elvis sings
Jimmy Reed!
He does it
very funky,
just playing
with the
band a tight
down-home
blues. Next
he does a
country
number,
'Detroit
City', and
then Del
Shannon's
hit,
'Runaway'.
The last
part of the
show
consists of
very heavy
production
numbers
beginning
with the Bee
Gees'
mournful
metaphysical
ballad,
'Words'.
Then the,
lights die
down, the
strings
pick, the
piano
tinkles like
an ice
cube...
Yesterday,
all my
troubles
seemed so
far away;
Now ft looks
as though
they're here
to stay...
Elvis sings
Paul the way
Paul would
sing Elvis.
Suddenly,
I'm not half
the stud I
used to
be...
The
orchestra is
welling up
with emotion
like a giant
Welk, the
Sweet
Inspirations
are drifting
up, scaling
the heavenly
stairs like
an angel
choir at the
end of one
of those
Bible
spectaculars,
"oooh, oooh,
oooh," and
Elvis
singing "I
believe in
yesterday"
like a true
confession.
I can't
stand it,
it's the end
of the
world.
Still, this
is only the
beginning
because the
next song
is:
Na na na
nanana na,
nanana na,
hey Jude...
By this time
the chicks
at the front
tables in
their giant
bouffants
are getting
really out
of hand,
reaching up
to grab him.
He leans
over and
gives each
of them a
kiss. They
throw their
table
napkins up
to him, and
he wipes his
face, under
his armpits,
and throws
them back.
He even
blows his
nose on one
of them and
hands it
back to a
squealing
middle-aged
fan who
holds it
reverently
like a piece
of the true
cross. You
can see he
digs it too,
he really
appreciates
that people
still dig
him that
much. These
are chicks
that really
went ape for
the Pelvis
way back
then,
flipped
their wig,
baby, for an
itsy bitsy
piece of his
gold lam�
threads.
Kind of
grungy
nowhere
chicks who'd
write those
dumb letters
to Elvis all
made up of
the titles
of his hits:
Big Hunk o'
Love,
I want you,
I need you,
I love you.
Alt shook up
over you so
Don't be
cruel Just
because...
Treat me
nice I beg
of you. Let
me be your
teddy bear.
Don't let
this be a
one- sided
love affair.
There' d
just be one
broken heart
for sale.
Signed,
Loving You
Next he does
his mini
soap opera,
'In the
Ghetto', and
follows it
with his new
single,
'Suspicious
Minds', a
heavy
production
number. When
he gets to
the line
"caught in a
trap, I
can't walk
out," he
crouches on
the ground
and leaps up
like a
'possum,
springing a
bear trap.
The line has
a pretty
symbolic
sound.
As an encore
he does his
1962 hit
'Can't Help
Falling in
Love'.
"You've been
a beautiful
audience,
ladies and
gentlemen,
you've made
it all
worthwhile."
Wise men say
only fools
rush in
But I, but
I, but I,
can't help
falling in
love with
you.
Shall I go,
would it be
a sin?
But I can't
help falling
in love with
you.
Like a river
flows slowly
to the sea,
Darling so
it goes,
some things
were meant
to be.
Take my
hand, take
my whole
life too
For I can't
help falling
in love with
you.
As we are
walking out
into the
casino, a
balding man
with a beer
belly is
handing out
thirteen-year-old
colour
photos of
Elvis.
Someone
says, "Hey
man, you
know who
that is?
It's Colonel
Parker."
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