today is the 25th anniversary of elvis's death on the pot that mournful day as punk was exploding all across the western world. in reading the trashy beach novel which is '24 hour party people' tony wilson describes the moment he found out - of another generation and too northern for sex pistols nihilism, he was moved, felt an era end.
interested then, the rolling stone article about how no one really gives a shit about elvis anymore. ya, i read mystery train but i'd be inclined to agree with those 18-year-old kids they profiled, and Public Enemy who seemed to think the King's legacy had no personal effect on them. likewise, my elvis was bob dylan or the psychedelic furs, sonic youth or the clash. maybe dylan has some of the elvis in him in tha he owed a larger debt to the tradition from which he came, he became a name through the old tradition of playing covers and paying your dues. but he evolved quickly where elvis became a pacified, pastel clad sinatra with only a truck driver's grace and little more. he wasn't even sexy like brando in streetcar, just a lumpen moving the shellac-ed hair about a stage. don't get me started on the comeback special.
on an unrelated note, i wanted to hate spoon but find that their blend of strokes rave ups and vaguely smarty lyrics shrouded in dumb sideliners making you not really sure - are these guys geniuses or just savants?- which is sometimes my favorite rock query. the iggy pop conundrum.