1) Girl Happy; 2) Spring Fever; 3) Fort
Lauderdale Chamber Of Commerce; 4) Startinʼ Tonight; 5) Wolf Call; 6) Do Not
Disturb; 7) Cross My Heart And Hope To Die; 8) The Meanest Girl In Town; 9) Do
The Clam; 10) Puppet On A String; 11) Iʼve Got To Find My Baby; 12) Youʼll Be
Gone.
General verdict: If thatʼs a «girl happy» look on the front cover, then this album is a masterpiece.
The «big» number on this soundtrack is ʽPuppet On
A Stringʼ, both the centerpiece of the movie (the song where the guy gets the
girl) and the main single from the LP, with ʽWooden Heartʼ reused as the B-side
by subconscious association (Elvis The Puppeteer). Tepper and Bennett really
went all out on this one, trying to make it as suave as possible, but I think
somebody ought to conduct a class sometime on the comparative virtues of this song
and ʽHere, There And Everywhereʼ to illustrate the difference between «corny
suave» and «magic suave». I guess that ultimately it still boils down to the
fact that ʽPuppet On A Stringʼ, down at the core, is a very trivial and generic
country shuffle, smoothed and silkened out with glossy production. Even the Jordanaires
sound like hired guns whose only purpose is to put the baby to sleep.
At least Doc Pomus is back as main songwriter
on the title track, whose fast tempo and rousing catchy chorus are easily the
most memorable thing about this soundtrack — if you can get past the
stereotypical gigolo lyrics, somehow unaccompanied by even the slightest hints
of genuine sexual passion (Iʼm pretty sure that by that time Elvisʼ «girl-happy»
period was long gone by), then I guess itʼs an okay enough composition and recording,
though it never truly lives up to the potential of its twangy opening guitar
line (played by new electric guitar player Tommy Tedesco, Duane Eddy-style).
Everything else is business and usual — rewrites
and/or embarrassments. The lowest point is probably ʽFort Lauderdale Chamber Of
Commerceʼ, sleazy to the core ("Girls on the beaches commit a sin / They
donʼt show yards and yards of skin" is one of the worst lyrical lines ever
submitted to the artist) and arranged as a relaxing Caribbean ballad to boot. But
there is also ʽDo The Clamʼ, sanitizing Bo Diddleyʼs style for diabetic
consumption; ʽCross My Heart And Hope To Dieʼ, another ridiculous mash-up of ʽToo
Muchʼ and ʽStuck On Youʼ; and ʽWolf Callʼ, whose attempt at a mating call is
neither subtle nor dangerous, just dumb. "Now donʼt tell me you donʼt fall
/ For that wolf call" is definitely
the perfect way to net a womanʼs attention.
Perhaps the worst thing about it all is the
sequencing. About 50% of the songs present Elvis as a sweet, gentle,
exquisitely caring crooner-serenader, whereas the other 50% have him as an
absolutely cringe-inducing sleazebag who has recently been kicked out of the
first grade of the local pickup school. Naturally, there is no lack of «two-faced»
pop artists alternating between «womanizing» and «romantic» moods as if
changing shirts, but you can just get away with it if you really put your heart
and mind into both modes — Girl Happy
is an embodiment how you can do both of these things really badly at the same time, and when you interweave them the way
we have it here, oh boy... hard to believe, really, that many girls could still
be falling all over Elvis in this incarnation, but then, the world has always
been a weird place.
It seems that you've decided to get through the amazing soundtrack career of Elvis in order to be able to return finally to the "Godspeed You! Black Emperor" side projects. I wonder if you have another blog where you review the Elvis movies (or do you just read the movie descriptions on Wikipedia or IMDb?)
ReplyDelete"You'll Be Gone" was a bold experiment (and a Presley co-write, too!). You must be a glutton for punishment to get to such highlights this way, though ...
ReplyDeleteI don't know if this trend will continue, but you can guess George's rating of an Elvis LP via each cover photo (starting with Blue Hawaii). If Elvis has a semi smile or more, it will be fine or better. If Elvis is longing or sad, run away.
ReplyDeleteScrolling up and down the last four album covers you can see a subtle sequential degeneration of meaning in those retail Elvis eyes. It's fascinating how industry-driven creative and marketing decisions can create a kind of unconscious art of their own.
ReplyDeleteGirl Happy is the sad culmination. He finally looks dead thud numb, like a portrait of a propped up Elvis marionette (speaking of puppets on strings). Inert.
Now that I think of it, replace the title with HELP! and you'd have a different sort of masterpiece from 1965.