Elvis Presley: G.I. Blues

ELVIS PRESLEY: G.I. BLUES (1960)

1) Tonight Is So Right For Love; 2) Whatʼs She Really Like; 3) Frankfort Special; 4) Wooden Heart; 5) G.I. Blues; 6) Pocketful Of Rainbows; 7) Shoppinʼ Around; 8) Big Boots; 9) Didjaʼ Ever; 10) Blue Suede Shoes; 11) Doinʼ The Best I Can; 12) Tonightʼs All Right For Love.

General verdict: One of those odd cases when the Army actually makes a muppet of a man rather than the other way around. (Then again, maybe thereʼs nothing really odd about that).

Let me kick this off with a fun bit of personal trivia: this new version of ʽBlue Suede Shoesʼ was the first one Iʼd heard, since, for some reason, it was included on my extensive (French, I think) compilation of Elvisʼ greatest hits instead of the original — by mistake, probably, but the result is that I have always been more partial to this version, by way of nostalgia. It is fascinating, though, to play the 1956 and 1961 versions back-to-back: there is no better way to see how sloppy, wild youthful exuberance gives way to slightly more restrained and assured professionalism. On the original, Elvisʼ voice is deeper and more intimidating, yet it also sounds like he is literally jumping at your throat with each line, possessed by that crazy rockʼnʼroll power to the point of barely holding it together. Come 1961, his delivery is calmer, more natural, maybe a bit more homely, without any crazy ad-libbing — you can actually picture him sitting down for this one rather than jumping up and down the microphone stand. In terms of actual musical backing, though, the second version has a much better pronounced and fun acoustic rhythm track, and the guitar solos (I assume thatʼs Tiny Timbrell; Scotty is only credited for lead guitar here on ʽShoppinʼ Aroundʼ) seem more expressively melodic and complex, while still having a decent rockʼnʼroll vibe to them.

In the end, I have to forfeit my childhood experience and concede that the original version is the one to be enshrined if we agree to put inspiration above professionalism, but at the very least, this re-recording clearly proves that, even with a maturity adjustment check, post-army Elvis still understood the art of rockʼnʼroll better than most of his contemporaries, and had anything but forgotten what it is like to get a good groove going. Alas, if only the same could be said about the rest of this album!

One has only to take a look at the list of songwriters engaged in creating the soundtrack to Elvisʼ first post-army movie to see whatʼs wrong. Abner Silver, the author of ʽBashful Babyʼ and ʽOn The Beach At Bali-Baliʼ. Sid Tepper, the author of ʽRed Roses For A Blue Ladyʼ, the Guy Lombardo hit. Sid Wayne and Sherman Edwards, the authors of ʽSee You In Septemberʼ. Ben Weisman, probably the most talented of the lot (it was he who wrote ʽCrawfishʼ, after all), but also as far from rockʼnʼroll as possible — basically, just all sorts of nice Brooklyn-born Tin Pan Alley songwriters, whose task was to assemble an «easy-listening» set for Elvis. Nine out of eleven songs on this record are locked in this mode, the only two exceptions being the above­mentioned re-recording of ʽBlue Suede Shoesʼ and Aaron Schroederʼs ʽShoppinʼ Aroundʼ, a song that would have been considered thoroughly third-rate on any of Elvisʼ pre-war, uh, I mean, pre-army records, but here it is a goddamn highlight. (You might probably know ʽShoppinʼ Aroundʼ as the Bonzo Dog Bandʼs ʽDeath Cab For Cutieʼ if you are a Magical Mystery Tour fan).

If we agree to drop the «TRAITOR!» attitude and give the Tin Pan Alley spirit a chance, then this setlist isnʼt that bad — after all, you cannot go completely wrong with seasoned pros, and there are only two songs here that genuinely make me want to cringe: ʽDidjaʼ Everʼ, because it places Elvis squarely into ʽItsy-Bitsy Spiderʼ mode, and ʽWooden Heartʼ, adapted from a German folk song and sung in a style with which Elvis himself is clearly uncomfortable. (Iʼd definitely take Marlene Dietrichʼs recording of ʽMuss I Dennʼ over Elvisʼ performance any time — she gives the song, like everything she ever sang, a much more ironic reading). Taken together, they give the album a kiddie feeling that absolutely goes against the interpretation of Elvisʼ early Sixtiesʼ career as «maturation» — if anything, this gives the impression of falling into infantilism.

Marginally better is ʽFrankfort Specialʼ, a choo-choo train song whose intro bears a superficially pleasant, but disappointing resemblance to ʽMystery Trainʼ — unfortunately, Elvisʼ call-and-response session with the Jordanaires here sounds way too cuddly and clean-cut. Of the ballads, ʽPocketful Of Rainbowsʼ also deserves special mention with its seductively winding vocal melody; but while ʽTonight Is So Right For Loveʼ proves that Elvis can sing a reworked Jacques Offenbach as efficiently as he can sing ʽO Sole Mioʼ, this serenading style in general has always been and will always remain cheap in essence.

Granted, the whole thing is but a soundtrack, but let us not forget that there was much greatness to be found on Elvisʼ soundtracks from the previous decade, and nobody in his right mind would want to deny the status of a classic Elvis album for something like King Creole. In comparison, G.I. Blues holds the dubious distinction of being the first openly bad Elvis album — nowhere near as bad as some things that were yet to come, of course, but the very first Elvis album where it clearly looked as if the man was being eaten up alive by the commercial machine. At least on Elvis Is Back! we had this variety of styles and attitudes that suggested experimentation and looking for new paths of development. This, on the other hand, is almost pure show-business, with the rebels being thrown an occasional bone (ʽBlue Suede Shoesʼ) and the rest of the world now allowed to gloat at how politeness, cleanliness, and overall gentlemanly behavior have finally tamed the Beast and introduced it to respectable society.