I’ve written here about Elvis Presley whenever the opportunity presented itself, such as the seventieth anniversary of Elvis’s birth last January (my post was “Have you heard the news?”). Most recently, in “The annotated Elvis” I compiled a short list of a few of Elvis’s greatest recordings occasioned by John’s post “In which I poach on my partner’s territory.”
One of these days I’ll take a stab at writing up an account of Elvis Presley’s dramatic 1969 recording sessions at the American Sound Studios in Memphis. They produced the most incredibly rich, moving material of his career, including “Suspicious Minds,” “Long Black Limousine,” “Only the Strong Survive,” “Kentucky Rain,” and “Stranger In My Own Home Town.” Catching up on everything he’d missed over the previous several years, Elvis ranged over the gamut of American popular music — country, rock, pop, soul, gospel and the bathetic pop ballads he loved as well. The American Sound Studios sessions are now documented on the magnificent two-disc set “Suspicious Minds.”
I always agonize about indulging my love for pop music here, but am almost always gratified by the responses these music posts elicit from readers. In my “Annotated Elvis” I had included the song “Suspicious Minds” and linked to the two-disc set. Mark Bauer wrote a message I now think of every time I listen to the 1969 recordings:
Read your blog today, and clicked on “Suspicious Minds.” I looked at the CD on Amazon, and clicked on more details to see the list of songs. As I read, the tears started to flow.
My mom died is 1969 of uterine cancer at 40 years old. The five siblings in our family ranged from 4 to 19; I was nine. The song “Don’t Cry Daddy” was played occasionally on Country Radio at the time. My Dad was not a quiet person by any means, but he wasn’t a person who wore his feelings on his sleeve either. I noticed that when this song was on the radio, he would not talk during the song. I think that gave him a lot of strength to keep moving on, and stay himself, and to not give in to self pity.
Thanks for accidentally writing something that reminded me today of my departed and loved father.