Elvis' Graceland moved me in unexpected ways

Graceland is supposed to be fun. I left in a melancholy daze.

I wasn’t interested in Elvis Presley until I took my mom to Graceland this summer. Now, I can’t stop thinking about him.

I expected Graceland to be light and interesting in the same way as Detroit’s Motown Museum, which introduces visitors to a storied era of music history through a backdrop of upbeat sounds and colorful memorabilia. It’s fun. Engaging. You have a chance to sing. You leave with soaring spirits.

Graceland shares some of those elements — but you approach them under a brooding shadow of tragedy.

Your awareness of the darkness may vary. It first hit me when I realized how young Elvis was throughout Graceland’s presentation. He is frozen in time as a lean, handsome, fun-loving guy, brimming with patriotism and the world’s coolest car collection. There’s a video of Elvis diving into his swimming pool. More videos of him clowning around outside. Portraits of an idyllic family.

The more I saw, the more this idealized version of Elvis felt deeply unsettling. I knew the unacknowledged ending. It was like I had stepped into a tour of the late-1950s led by Charles Dickens’ ghosts of Christmas past, present and yet to come. The John Stamos-narrated mansion tour provides intimate access to a calculated version of Elvis’ life — and then crash lands you into reality at the gravesites of Elvis and his family members, including daughter Lisa Marie Presley (last seen on the tour as a smiling toddler), outside in the Meditation Garden.

Please exit through the gift shop!

Visiting Graceland is supposed to be fun. I left in a melancholy daze.

Elvis shared only a fraction of his talent

I’ve been listening to a lot of Elvis music since taking that tour. My overriding sense of his catalogue is that I want more.

Not more volume. Elvis recorded over 700 songs. But relatively few of them reflect a level of artistry that made him The King. There’s the early stuff everyone knows, including “Heartbreak Hotel,” “Jailhouse Rock” and “Can’t Help Falling in Love” and then there’s the late stuff, including “Suspicious Minds” and “If I Can Dream.”

For an artist who changed everything, Elvis spent shockingly little time making innovative music. He peaked at age 23, staged a comeback between 33 and 35, went into steep decline and died at 42, leaving us with only a fraction of his potential — and yet it was enough to endure.

I’m obsessed with this artist who became imprisoned and isolated by unimaginable fame and lost touch with his true self — similar to other singers, from Michael Jackson to Britney Spears. Elvis altered the course of music with a career amounting to two brief bursts of greatness.

The career math is shocking

Elvis spent about 15% of his life making groundbreaking music.

It might even be an exaggeration to say he had two bursts of greatness. You could argue it was really just one — 1954 to 1958.

Elvis exploded almost overnight in 1954 by fusing gospel, blues, country and hillbilly. The resulting cocktail resembled sounds popular among Black artists and audiences, leading to appropriation criticism.

Historical accounts suggest Elvis’ musical choices were sincere, not cynical (though his first producer, Sam Phillips, was more motivated by the marketing potential of introducing Black music to White audiences). Elvis stitched together genres he loved, relying heavily on music from Black churches and nightclubs, and blending it into something unique. He cranked out hit after hit, first at Phillips’ independent Sun Records label in Memphis and then moving to RCA in 1956.

Then Elvis got drafted into the Army in 1958. He was stationed in Germany and abstained from recording music while in the military. Then he returned in 1960 and … made movies?

Look, lots of people love Elvis’ movies. But, while he is in the conversation for greatest musician of all time, approximately zero people would argue he is the greatest actor of all time.

Elvis’ Hollywood career includes 31 feature films, only two of which are critically acclaimed (“King Creole” and “Flaming Star”). The rest are formulaic musicals propped up by soundtracks engineered to satisfy commercial rather than creative interests.

Elvis walked away from movies in 1968, put on a Comeback Special that is still considered one of the greatest live performances in rock history and recorded a few more exceptional songs. “Suspicious Minds,” perhaps his best recording, was released in 1969 and became his last No. 1 hit.

Elvis launched a Las Vegas residency in July 1969 and performed more than 600 shows there through 1976. The residency started out hot but descended into monotony as he stopped challenging himself, slipped into delusion, suffered from mounting health problems and became increasingly dependent on painkillers.

By the end, Elvis was physically unable to perform full-fledged concerts. He forgot words to songs and seemed disoriented on stage. He died in 1977.

Even Elvis’ mortality couldn’t constrain his talent

Even at Elvis’ worst, you can see what might have been — if only he had kept his focus on music and stayed healthy.

Consider his last public performance. Elvis’ June 26, 1977 concert in Indianapolis is a notorious shitshow just seven weeks before his death.

I’ve heard and read about how bad it was. That’s why, when I stumbled onto this video of “Unchained Melody” from that show, it blew me away. The video starts with Elvis admitting he doesn’t know all the chords and asking some befuddled guy to hold his microphone. It ends with him singing the absolute shit out of that song.

Elvis is at death’s door. His singing transcends his frailty and shattered life. Chills.

Step into the lie

Photo by emrecan arık on Unsplash

Elvis in the 1970s started singing “My Way,” made famous by Frank Sinatra. In Elvis’ version, he hits the notes with abandon, as if he’s convincing himself of its personal resonance. That guy who gave up groundbreaking music to star in mediocre films and rot away in a never-ending two-show-per-night Vegas grind?

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall

Elvis obsessed over control, over himself and others, even as he ceded his agency to fame, drugs and his exploitative manager. He projected a lie. But unlike Michael Jackson, a fellow icon who followed a similar path and became a monster, Elvis seems to have maintained a kind and generous spirit throughout his self-destructive descent. That makes his story even sadder.

Graceland invites us into the lie but can’t control it any better than Elvis did. No matter how much time you spend among smiling photos and material wealth, the grave awaits. Beyond that, the veneer of dignity is lost.

Elvis is remembered as much for inanity as for innovation. He’s become a punchline. While we speak of the Beatles, Bob Dylan and other acts of his era with reverence, Elvis’ legacy has been reduced to kitschy souvenirs.

He died young, yet lived long enough to become a caricature. Consider his famous visit to the White House to meet Richard Nixon in 1970. The story is hilarious — so long as you don’t think too hard about it.

Elvis was addicted to massive quantities of prescription drugs, yet flew to Washington and asked Nixon to deputize him to combat drug abuse. He was already detached from reality at age 35, a shell of his spirited youth. Nixon humored his delusion in hopes of boosting poll numbers.

I didn’t know any of this a few weeks ago. I’ve been going down one rabbit hole after another, all because Graceland made me feel something. But … what, exactly?

Pity. Vulnerability. Helplessness. In this Dickensian tour, it’s easy to imagine an alternate history in which Elvis ignores Hollywood, escapes Vegas and receives help with his addiction. The possibilities feel tangible as you retrace the footsteps of his once-vibrant life.

Maybe that’s the psychology behind our love of “A Christmas Carol.” We like to imagine we would make the most of second chances to live richer, fuller lives if only we could see ourselves from another angle. Reality works differently. We usually reject others’ perspectives.

Elvis didn’t want some spirit to guide him toward another life. He enjoyed being The King and all that it entailed. Like Elvis, we make our choices, justify our mistakes and leave loved ones to tell our stories through rosier filters. We do it our way.

Elvis lived a life too iconic to be relatable. He suffered a death that was all too human.