No city in the world, not Vienna, Los Angeles, St. Louis, New Orleans, Detroit, Chicago, New York, or Liverpool—and certainly not Nashville—has a prouder musical heritage than Memphis. From the Delta to Beale Street, more genres of music were born here than anywhere else. This is the home of the Blues, Delta Blues, Rhythm & Blues, Rockabilly, Rock & Roll, and Southern Gospel, not to mention being a bastion for Soul Music and the cradle for what became known around the world as the “Memphis Sound,” which brought artists from every ethnicity and region here to record songs that play on discs and radios constantly . . . decades after they were recorded . . .

From Sun Records and The Memphis Recording Service, out to the Overton Park Shell, back to Stax Recording Studio, down to American Sound Studio, along Beale Street, over to Hernando’s Hideaway, out to the Eagles Nest, then to Hi Records, and up to the Ellis Auditorium, as well as in many forgotten side-of-the-road, hole-in-the-wall juke joints and makeshift studios, some of the most legendary moments of music have occurred here in Memphis. The fusion of Black and White music began right here during the most racially turbulent times of the 20TH century, in the most racially violent region of the country, and ELVIS was the catalyst that forever broke down the musical barrier . . . which has since alienated him and ingratiated him to millions . . . Memphis was the center of the music universe and ELVIS became the cutting edge; the absolute limit and the end all . . . As ELVIS said many times when discussing the roots of his unprecedented success: “They were lookin’ for somethin’ different and I was just lucky enough to come along at the right time.”

From what I can tell, ELVIS absorbed all the music formats that were around him and created his own style by putting them all together all at once. He took on aspects of the caterwauling Delta Bluesmen that made crazy faces and parodied lyrics, while playing the guitar with their elbows and chins; he was certainly influenced by the raucous style of Race Music, and he had grown up listening to all the Hillbilly legends cutting loose, so he put his emphasis on developing a distinct style rather than working on his delivery of harmonies and melodies. That’s why ELVIS flunked music classes and got cut from the Glee Club. ELVIS deeply admired the slick polish of the Black and White Pop balladeers of the North—evidenced by his vast and eclectic record collection—and he secretly aspired to be Mario Lanza, which would become evident as the years went on . . .

ELVIS didn’t just listen to music; he absorbed it, and the musical evolution in the air that he breathed touched his instincts and set his drive in motion. With his energetic sound and soulful looks, he was perfectly cast to be the artist to fuse the disparate elements of the music industry and its audience. He was a true cultural pioneer and music innovator, with enough raw talent to become the only White artist whose covers of Black music consistently bested the originals . . . a trend that would continue for the rest of his career in all music fields . . .

Memphis was the hot bed for underground, bootleg cuts and every kind of music was available in the local record shops, because distributors came from all points on the compass to get exposure for their artists here. In those days there were only a few stations in the nation playing R&B for White audiences, and WHBQ in Memphis was about the only one in the South. There were very few crossover labels in the South, but Sun Records was about the biggest.

Sam Phillips was on the look out for anyone with talent, from any music field, but particularly—as he said so many times—“A Whiteboy with the Negro sound and feel.” In the meantime, the area was filled with talented Black performers and Sam began rounding them up for his stable. His forte` was developing talent that had been ignored by everyone else and creating new audiences. In fact, he even launched the nation’s first all-girls, all-the-time radio station here in Memphis, WHER. But mostly Sam ran the Memphis Recording Service, which was an audition booth where you paid a few bucks for the privilege of being heard by the master and got a demo to boot. If you were any good, he might sign you to his little yellow label with a sun rising on a rooster . . .

It turned out to be a lucky break for ELVIS that Sam was absent the day that he came by to cut a couple of sides on his lunch break in August of 1953. Instead he performed for Marion Keisker, who was immediately won over by his charm and potential. ELVIS’ choice of music that day was “My Happiness,” by Ella Fitzgerald & The Song Spinners, and “That’s When Your Heartaches Begin,” by The Inkspots . . . it would seem that ELVIS was aware of Sam’s desire for race mixing music . . . After the session she began to heavily promote him to Sam as the singer with his ideal sound. Sam was in the booth for ELVIS’ second recording session. He told ELVIS that Marion had mentioned him, but he left him with no clue as to his impression of his ability. After that session, Marion Keisker again played ELVIS up to Sam as the Whiteboy with the Negro sound and feel that he was looking for and when Sam couldn’t find the vocalist that sang the demo of “Without You,” he called for ELVIS . . . and the rest . . . well you know . . . All of his life ELVIS paid tribute to Marion Keisker by saying, “If it wasn’t for that lady, I’d still be drivin’ a truck.”

It seems that ELVIS and Sam were sent in two different directions in order to provide the other with what they needed when they met. I can’t say if their meeting was destined, but it was certainly kismet . . . Sam was looking for something and ELVIS wanted to find it . . .

In 1953, R&B records sold 15 million copies, which was more than the entire record industry had sold the year before. With the advent of television, radio had to change its format to be more music driven and phased out theatrical radio programs, as they could no longer compete with TV shows for sponsors or audiences. The end result of this was an increase of record sales right across the board and the growth of music-only radio station formats. Television definitely wasn’t aimed at Black audiences, since comparatively few Black families owned a set, so White deejays nationwide began pandering to their audience by playing Black R&B music or the pale White cover versions during television’s primetime hours. More and more White audiences were tuning into these broadcasts, particularly in the South where television was slow to catch on and the music was spreading like wildfire. The color lines of music were being broken down by proxy, in effect, as Black artists added cream to their act, so it was palatable to White audiences, and White artists sprinkled cocoa on their Milquetoast —also to sate White audiences; nobody was vying for presence in the Black market.

Soon a powerful new consumer market emerged—teens . . . The children that had grown up during The Depression and fought a World War in their youth wanted to give their kids the easy life . . . Bless their souls . . . For the first time, working class American teens didn’t hand over their part time paychecks to help the family—at least not all of it . . . Life in the suburbs created a need for less-than-cheap, beneath menial, labor force that was perfect for teenyboppers. Folks no longer had their kin about them, so babysitters were needed. People weren’t having a half dozen kids or more, so lawns needed mowing, gutters needed cleaning, yards needed raking and sometimes snow needed to be shoveled . . . Plus kids got an allowance for doing chores around the house that were traditionally expected of them to earn their keep . . .

All of this disposable income supported diverse industries; fast food restaurants were born, soft drinks became the predominant American beverage, and automobile sales nearly doubled when kids got their own cars. When the youth of America spent seven billion dollars on records in 1956 and tripled the industry, Rock & Roll was here to stay and stations that didn’t play it were gonsville . . . They were a mighty consumer lobby and they demanded music with rhythm, so that’s what the establishment gave them. They were not possessed of the old prejudices and would buy any record from any artist, just as long as it was good. Soon, Black recording artists made their way onto the national scene and took their place in the pantheon of stars as never before . . .

Memphis’ own W.C Handy began flatting the third and seventh notes of Tin Pan Alley scores around the turn-of-the century and called it “The Blues.” The tunes featured Ragtime piano and raunchy horn riffs. Despite the often-bawdy lyrics, the vocals were performed with the same emotional dynamic of a spiritual, so the renditions were dramatic. The major difference between Blues and Jazz was the meter of the song. Jazz was urban and up-tempo; sharps made it brighter and it was arranged to be blaring. The Blues was played true to its Southern roots and its phrases drawled and wailed; it was subtle and engulfed the listener in its euphoric aura. Jazz tunes were about spooning with your girl and riding around town in sharp britches; it was music for dandies at swank watering holes to cut-a-rug to. The Blues was about hard times and hard drinking; of being hard done by, by life and luck, and done over by your cheating lady and backstabbing best friend; of being broke and roaming about and of loving a woman enough to kill her if you couldn’t have her—the music was sultry and inspired couples to dirty dance in sweltering dives.

In the Delta region of Mississippi, the Blues was played Hillbilly style, on guitar, harmonica, banjo and bass fiddle. They created a distinct style of music known as Delta Blues. Later when violins and mandolins were added to these arrangements, Blue Grass Music took root, and when the string driven combos of the Delta came north and played with the bluesy Beale Street groups, while doing shows out at the Overton Park Shell, their efforts produced Rhythm & Blues—when White artists blended the Blues with C&W they got Honky Tonk. Any Bop song with risqué` lyrics that glorified good times with hard liquor and bad women was called Race Music . . . or worse . . . When the lyrics were cleaned up and the songs were given to White performers to cover, they became Pop Tunes—or worse . . . Black artists that sang White porch ballads were referred to as, “Ebony Singers,” and their music was called, “Sepia Tunes.”

In the Jazz Age, regional artists made the sound over to suit their style and audience. On the East and West coasts the vocalists were highlighted, whereas in the Mid-West and the Mid-South the emphasis was on the instruments, so the arrangements were scored around the alternating solos. Up North Jazz was played by orchestras, and when they added swing to the rhythm sections of these numbers a Big Band sound resulted. When Jazz traveled down the Mississippi River into New Orleans, their Mardi Gras Parade version became known as Dixieland and when it crossed over south-of-the-border and mixed with Calypso rhythms, Mariachi bands were formed . . .

ELVIS and his band played Rhythm & Blues with a skeletal Hillbilly arrangement, and though it could trace its roots to what was known as Country Stomp and was later called Rockabilly, there was a unique feel to these records that was later identified as Rock & Roll . . . The same song played on different instruments often creates a new music format, because of the fresh attitude of the performance. Soon the bass fiddle was replaced with a bass guitar and later the Beatles took the process a step further and became the first Metal band, when they played the rhythm on an electric guitar rather than an acoustic guitar, which had been the arrangement featured in Skiffle bands— the precursor of what we know today as Grunge . . .

The ancient philosophy that shall ever be followed by all new wavers is to play songs louder, faster and harder than those who came before. To say that ELVIS stole his style from the pervading musical trends by expanding on it, until it became his own, is like saying that Glenn Miller stole his style from John Phillip Sousa or that Led Zeppelin stole their style from the Rolling Stones who no doubt stole their style from Buddy Holly who was just knocking off Hank Williams. Just because he was a Whiteboy that sounded Black doesn’t mean that Vanilla Ice was stealing ELVIS’ style . . . not hardly . . . Innovation is merely doing what has been done before in your own way. Each artist combines elements of everything they like and create their own style through their interpretation of it—if it’s from your heart then it belongs to you. When ELVIS first went into the Memphis Recording Service, Marion Keisker wanted to know who he sounded like when he sang. ELVIS told her: “I don’t sound like nobody.” And he didn’t . . .

As with all inventions many people lay claim to being the “Architect of Rock & Roll,” as we know it today. The Boswell Sisters recorded a song called “Rock and Roll,” in 1934— although it did neither. In various musical genres the term began appearing in the titles and in the lyrics of songs that decidedly didn’t rock—though some did roll . . . Either word in a song, “rock” or “roll,” or the phrase “rock and roll,” was an urban euphemism for having sex and didn’t refer to a musical category. In the early days, songs like “Sh-Boom,” by The Crewcuts, or “Sixteen Tons,” by Tennessee Ernie Ford, were considered to be Rock & Roll songs, as were the terrible covers of Race Music being done by White artists. When “That’s All Right Mama,” was first released in the summer of 1954, it was alternately called Country Bop; Western Swing; Rhythm and Bop; Cat Music; Hillbilly Boogie, and occasionally Rhythm & Blues . . . it’s obvious that all who heard it thought it different enough to be classified in a category by itself. In fact, before ELVIS was called “THE KING OF ROCK & ROLL,” he was referred to in print as “The King of Country Bop” and “The King of Western Swing.” The world fittingly settled on “THE KING.” Pop Music stations wouldn’t play his records after 5 a.m., because they were considered too countrified; the C&W stations wouldn’t play them because they thought it was jungle music, and R&B stations didn’t want to give airplay to a Whiteboy that they perceived was trying to pass, so it’s clear that his early Sun releases were quite anomalous to the ears of the beholders. In order to get C&W airplay, Sam had to deny there was percussion on the records, even though drummer Jimmie Lott can be heard clearly keeping time on the floor of the studio on many of them. Sam sold the Hillbilly deejays the story that the clicking was created by an echo coming off of the bass fiddle, and some bought it, even though the echo was playing a completely different riff. This is how part of Sam’s legend got started, for being a mad studio genius who applied secret production formulas and used mystery machines on his tracks.

ELVIS didn’t set out to be a revolutionary artist. He had gone into the studio and played the style of music that he had been known for since he first sang on the Mississippi Slim Radio Show in Tupelo when he was 8 years old. When he was 10 years old, he had taken Second Prize at the Mississippi Alabama Fair and Dairy Show, for standing on a chair and warbling through “Old Shep,” and had made a minor reputation for himself in Tupelo and Memphis, by bringing tears to the eyes of students and teachers with his sentimental renderings of old Southern Folk tunes. On the many alternate Sun takes, you can hear that ELVIS wanted to be a crooner very badly—and unfortunately he was . . . He may have enjoyed R&B music and all that, but he longed to be a Pop singer like Dean Martin. He revered Gospel groups and idolized Gospel singers like Jake Hess, James Blackwood, and a man that he had met backstage as a teen during an all night Gospel sing at the Ellis Auditorium; J.D Sumner . . . the man with the world’s lowest voice . . .

Sam wanted a Whiteboy with the sound and feel of a Negro and ELVIS gave him a hillbilly plucking out “Mona Lisa” on the guitar that he had bought from the Tupelo Hardware Company ten years before. After months of time in the studio and no master cut to show for it, ELVIS was mortified that he was going to fail. Sam had been patient and generous and supportive, but sooner or later ELVIS had to either make something happen or pack it in. This was the first time ELVIS would have to summon forth all the “Powers of Marvel” to catapult his career out of the depths and soar as high as his dreams could take him . . . it would not be the last time . . .

One fateful night, after another half dozen uninspired takes of “I Love You Because,” came the bolt from the blue . . . ELVIS began frenetically bouncing around the studio while he was singing and playing an R&B cut by Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup— just letting off some pent up steam in-between takes of his next torch song . . . Half playing the fool ELVIS sang in an unnaturally high falsetto and strummed a jumped up riff on his banged-up guitar. Scotty and Bill immediately picked up on what ELVIS was doing and in a few bars they were cooking with nitro . . . sadly this all took place during a break and Sam wasn’t in the booth to record the most fabled moment in music history . . . By the time he returned, the boys were in full swing and the studio was filled with the magical sound of an artistic epiphany making itself heard. Sam stopped them long enough to restart them and five takes later a master was pressed . . . Sam then had them apply their new formula to songs from every category and thus a new musical genre was born . . .

This all took place a year before “Maybelline” by Chuck Berry, and “Bo Diddley” by Bo Diddley came out. Bill Haley’s “Rock Around the Clock,” was recorded in April 1954, but didn’t become a national hit until it played at the end of the movie Blackboard Jungle, a year-and-a-half later, at a time when ELVIS was about to sign with RCA, so he wouldn’t have heard it before he started his recording career. Little Richard, didn’t release “Tutti Frutti” until 1955, and shouldn’t even be considered a pioneer of Rock & Roll, because his Boogie Woogie music only rolled; it never rocked—he was just a jumped up version of Jelly Roll Morton . . . When these songs and artists were first emerging onto the national scene, ELVIS had been the biggest underground star in the country for a year and he already had several records out, including “Good Rockin’ Tonight,” “Baby Let’s Play House,” and “Mystery Train.” CNN ended this long debate in 2003 when their panel of renowned experts chose “That’s All Right Mama,” by ELVIS PRESLEY, to top their list of “Songs That Changed the World.”