Elvis

The thirtieth anniversary of Elvis' death was marked by a predictable buzz on the net with the usual confident assertions of his greatness. He changed things forever, we are told. I don't give him that much credit myself. There were many factors at work that brought about the decline into absurdity and banality popular music has wallowed in since the fifties... but I don't think that's what is meant. In one article it was said that he rescued music from the likes of Hugo Winterhalter and elevator music. What the writer doesn't realize is that Elvis and his successors made elevator music for juvenile delinquents. Same thing, different audience.
Another article pointed to Patti Page's hit song, "How much is that doggy in the window?" as a sign of how low music had sunk in the fifties. He clearly has never listened to Sarah Vaughan, Ella Fitzgerald who were just reaching the peak of their careers. In fact the fifties was a golden era of singing and Patti Page was one of the best. The fact that he doesn't realize this doesn't say much for his knowledge of music. And what's wrong with a cute little song about puppy dogs? I wonder what is wrong with a musical culture that can no longer produce songs to smile at. Maybe it's because the fan base doesn't know how to smile anymore. Maybe humour is another one of the many unfortunate casualties of the political correctness disease.
Previous to the fifties novelty bands were quite popular, for instance Spike Jones and his City Slickers. Any popular song, any performer was fair game for these guys. And they were damn good musicians, too. Although they were funny they were never vicious. On one song they took a swipe at Liberace. Liberace (pronounced liberatchy) was an unctious and effeminate piano player who had a TV show that was very popular with middle aged ladies. Elvis copied his outfits. Out of curiosity I recently played a youtube segment of one of his appearances, and you know what? He was pretty good and he had a great sense of humour.
Elvis wasn't the beginning of an era, he was the end of one. He marked the end of a century or more of great American song writing. From Stephen Foster to Johnny Mercer there had been a seemingly inexhaustible fountain of wonderful songs, lyrical, witty, sentimental, patriotic, religious, emanating from both black and white Americans, German Americans, Irish Americans, Yankees and Confederates, country folk, cowboys, Jews in the ghetto, and share croppers in the Delta. For a glorious fifty years it all came together and gave rise to probably the best and most sophisticated popular music ever. Who would have guessed it would all come crashing down half way through the century.
Music split in two. The good musicians like Ornette Coleman and Charles Mingus turned their backs on popular audiences. Essentially, they played for each other. They made interesting music but not music to dance to or sing along with. I guess they thought they were too good to lower themselves to that level. The other fork of the musical tree was thus left empty and a species of charlatan occupied the premises. Elvis showed the way and Colonel Parker was quick to come up with a business plan. It had nothing to do with music.