Cover from the album "From Elvis in Memphis"

The Review :
- Elvis and Memphis have changed, along with everything else. Country music has been polysyllabized, and rhythm and blues, which was once just that, has  long since dropped the blues from its make-up. When Elvis was in high school he could have heard Muddy Waters' "Long Distance Call" or "Honey Bee" as  popular new releases, Sonny Boy Williamson's "Don't Start Me to Talkin" came out at just about the same time as Elvis' own first song. Sam Phillips, Elvis' discoverer, had in the course of just a few years recorded Howlin' Wolf, Bobby Bland, little Junior Parker, Johnny Ace and B.B. King, all for the first time. Some records has been leased; others had appeared on his own Sun label. There was a relaxed interplay - musical and probably social - between white and black that was the product as much naivete as of conscious commercial exploitation.
When Elvis first recorded fifteen years ago there was no name for the kind of music he was playing. It was just the sort of thing you heard at roadhouses and country fairs all through Mississippi, Arkansas and Tennessee. Country singers like Sonny Burgess were known for raucous blues like "Red Headed Woman" and Harmonica Frank, The Great Medical Menagerist recorded by Phillips, was popular for his blues and novelty numbers. All of this was at Elvis' fingertips, and he couls sing Arthur Crudup's "That's All Right" as naturally as "Isle of broken Dreams" or "My Happiness" (the song he originally paid to record for his mothers birthday).

Elvis' first commercial release, Crudup's blues backed by Bill Monroe bluegrass tune, changes everything. For one thing, it changed Sun Records. From a white-owned Blues label which might have given the Chess brothers (to whom much of Phillips' material was leased) stiff competition Sun became first the harbinger and then the king of the new rockabilly sound. It's generally been assumed that the phenomenal commercial success of this music reflected a correspondent deterioration in quality, but I think that it in reality no such decline took place. In just three years Phillips put together a list that could rival that of another recording company in any other field. There was room for the talents of artists as diverese as Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, Roy Orbison, Charlie Rich, Billy Riley, Warren Smith, Johnny Cash, and Elvis himself, and really the only conclusion to which we are led is that Phillips was a man of exceptional and wide-ranging musical taste who possessed extraordinary abilities as a producer.

The new album is great. I think it is flatly and unequivocally the equal of anything he has ever done. If it were made up only of its weakest elements it wouls still be a good record and one that would fulfill in many ways all the expectations we might have of Elvis.

"In the Ghetto",a hit big enough to substantiate Elvis' continued popularity, is for all its lush orchestration convincingly sung and pjhrased with sensitivity. It substantiates as well the whole liberal complex we grafted onto Elvis in adopting him for our hero, and despite a message fuzzy enough to allow the song considerable C&W popularity it gives us a statement as explicit as any we are ever likely to get. "Only The Strong Survive", while a little stiff and thightly sung, is a creditable soul offering, and even "Any Day Now" is palatable enough in this vein. Finally "Gentle On My Mind" offers us Elvis in the new mod buckskin image of country music, as he triumphs forcefully over the banality of the lyrics with the willingness to use dramatics, even at the risk of seeming melodramatic, and all this on a song that has previously been the property of singers like Glen Campbell and Bobby Goldsboro.

 All of this is merely confirmation of what we already knew about Elvis, through. What is new, and what is obvious from the first notes of the record, is the evident passion which Elvis has invested in this music and at the same time the risk he has taken in doing so. From the hoarse shout that opens the album to the hit song that closes it, it seems clear- as indeed it was clear on the TV special - that Elvis is trying, and trying very hard, to please us. he needs to have our attention, and it comes as something of a shock to discover that a hero whom we had set up to feel only existential scorn, a hero who was characterized by a frozen sneer and a look of sullen discontent should need us in the end. It is his involvement after all which comes as the surprise.

 But it is "Long Black Limousine" and "I'll Hold You in My Heart" whick mark the high point og the album and indeed may mark the high point of Elvis' career to date. "Long Black Limousine" is the almostquintessential C&W ballad, whose melody bears traces of such mournful standards as "Old Shep" and "Green, Green Grass of Home". It tells the classic story of the country girl who goes to the city in search of riches, only to be corrupted by city ways:
 

Ordinarily songs like this will be treated as a kind of grim cautionary tale, delivered in a flat unadorned voice with simple sentimental country backing. Here the accompaniment is ornamented with bells, horns, and female choir, but it is Elvis' voice upon which the words depend for their dramatic effect. In a departure quite uncharacteristic of country music, there is a feirce, almost shocked indignation in the voice, and the passionate intensity of Elvis' voice transforms a fairly ordinary song into a vehicle for savage social protest.

And yet it's still not the same. There is that unavoidable tightness in his voice. For a moment we lose sight in "I'll Hold You In My Heart", but it's a function of knowledge as much as anything else. you can't recapture the innocent ease of those first sides, you can't recall the easy innocence of adulthood, whether for listener or for singer. What is so striking about the Sun sides, even today, fifteen years after their first release, is the freshness of style, their cleaness and enthusiasm. there is a total lack of pretentiousness in Scotty Moore's crisp lead guitar and in the easy swing of the combo. The sound is without affectation or clutter, and the songs - about equally didived between blues and country and mostly available on two RCA albums, A Date With Elvis (LPS 2011) and For LP Fans Only (LSP 1990) - are all of them timeless. most of all the voice, free of the mannerisms with which it has inevitably become infected, is joyously full of confidence and youthful vitality.

 The first arrangement of "That's All Right", it is said, was worked out during a coffeebreak between takes of a ballad called "Without You". Really, all the early songs sound like some kind of inspired accident. It's as if some musicians got together and fooled arund to make music for themselves, and the result somehow found its way onto record. There's the unexpected falsetto and chuckle with which Little Junior Parker's "Mystery Train" trails off, the bubbly beginning to "Baby Let's Play House", and the too-perfect, beautiful slow take of Kokomo Arnold's "Milkcow Blues" when Elvis says, "Hold it, fellas. That don't move me. Let's get real, real gone for a change."