Bibek Acharya
He may have been known as ‘The King’ of rock n’ roll to a certain generation, but there are still sides to Elvis Presley that don’t get nearly enough credit, no matter how many books, documentaries or godawful films are made about the man. Case in point, he may get tarred with the “never wrote his own stuff” brush, but for a pop singer who came to prominence in the pre-Beatles era, Elvis still had an unprecedented degree of creative control over his records. In some cases, they are produced in all but name.
This was especially apparent in that window of time between his film career stalling and fully retiring to Vegas act misery. Elvis in the late 1960s was an unheralded imperial phase for the man; he looked great, sounded even better, and was taking dramatic swings with his music and political statements. Seriously, go and watch the ’68 Comeback Special for an idea of how much of a dynamite live performer he was, then curse Colonel Parker for taking ten years of that away from us so we could have ‘Girls! Girls! Girls!’ instead.
Capitalising on the renewed interest in Elvis was a hell of a job. They couldn’t go straight back to the same stuff they were releasing in 1955, especially because Elvis himself was fascinated by the new rock n’ roll being released today. He wanted something that bridged the gap. Something mature but still fun. They found the perfect song in a single that had died a death the year before from another Memphis songwriter called Mark James. A little number called Suspicious Minds.
Now, the very fact that any version of a song as phenomenal as Suspicious Minds can flop shows that there’s something very wrong with society. It did fall into the hands of the world’s most famous man at the time, so swings and roundabouts. It was precisely what the King was looking for, and he raced into the studio with his team to record it. This is where Presley’s creativity comes to the fore.
The work he put in with his team was arguably what brought the song to life. That build from the simmering guitar and organ intro to the wild, orchestral freak-out it builds to is original for Elvis’ version, as are the skipping time signatures and, crucially, Elvis’ interplay with the backing singers brought in for the session. One of them, Donna Thatcher, would go on to pursue her own major career in music after the session.
At the time, Thatcher was a session singer trekking around the southern music scene, and she was brought in for this session along with Jeannie Greene and sisters Ginger and Mary Holladay. Talking to Rolling Stone, Thatcher said of the session “My back was turned to the door when Elvis walked in, and I knew he had walked in, he had that kind of charisma and a power about him.” The girls had to earn their spot on the record, though, with Presley personally presiding over each individual recording session with them and critiquing their performances. A process which Thatcher called “very intense”.
Adorably, the quartet kept their cool for the session, snapped a photo with Elvis, and then completely flipped their biscuits about it afterwards. “We went into the International House of Pancakes in Memphis and screamed bloody murder for about an hour, holding up that little Polaroid picture of us and Elvis together.” In 1970, Thatcher left the south for California though, meeting her future husband Keith Godchaux and, along with him, joining the Grateful Dead for one of the most critically and commercially successful periods in the band’s long history.
Not content with being the king of rock and roll, both these stories show that Elvis was also one hell of a talent scout and producer.
