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Across town, not far from Sun Studio, a younger set of fans gather at a bar called Last Place On Earth. For $7, the bill promises another breed of multi-media experience. The main draw for those who actually know it’s Elvis’ birthday is a short film titled Elvis Meets the Beatles. But for many in the crowd, the anniversary of the King’s death–August 16–upstages E-Day on the list of rock and roll holidays.

"Everyone’s on vacation in August, so more people come," explains Mic Walker, a Last Place On Earth regular and tour guide at Sun Studio. Of all the sideburns shielding cheeks this night in Memphis, Walker’s are maybe the largest. He explains that the distance between the base of each chop and his mouth is equal to the length of one razor blade. In beard lingo, Walker’s look might be described as an inverted goatee. All chops, no tee.

Walker mingles among other indie music scene loyalists. As Müller, a German singer/songwriter who transplanted to Memphis a year ago, begins playing yet another Bob Dylan cover, Walker perks up.

"He takes Dylan songs, changes the lyrics, and sings with an accent," says Walker. "I don’t know, I just find that hilarious."

Others find it annoying. But in a backhanded, tone-deaf kind of way, Müller’s presence on stage offers an odd tribute to the King. Elvis wanted the kingdom of rock to become a sprawling and varied territory–a place big enough to accommodate all comers.

It’s true that at Graceland, Elvis didn’t always embrace variety. There was a six-month period where he ordered his cooks to prepare meatloaf every day. But down in the basement, with his hi-fi, three TVs, and a blue and yellow lightening bolt painted on the wall, Elvis devoured an array of musical styles. As the voice of Priscilla Presley informs headset-clad tourgoers at Graceland, "He really did appreciate other people’s talents."

The King may have appreciated the success and songwriting skills of bands like The Beatles, but he certainly wasn’t very chatty when the British rock gods met the King in 1965. The Fab Four managed to arrange the meeting at Elvis’ apartment in Bel Air. They showed up with their instruments hoping to jam with the King. It didn’t happen.

"He just kind laid there on the couch watching TV. He didn’t say much," says Walker, whose work at Sun Studio requires a flash card command of obscure rock history. "He had a Fender bass guitar in his lap and he just sat there picking at it. He just kind of ignored them."

The short film, Elvis Meets the Beatles, allegedly recreates this gathering of modern rock almighties. Unfortunately, the filmmakers could not figure out how to free their finished product from a computer editing system in time to show the piece on Elvis’ birthday.

The crowd at Last Place On Earth doesn’t seem to mind the last minute cancellation. On stage, the star of the film jams with his punk band Vegas Thunder. He’s a young, paunchy, Elvis-the-fat-years replica. He looks like he could be Elvis’ son. Call him Little E, the imaginary child celebrity washout who bounced from boarding school to speed addiction.

In the crowd listening to Little E wail is an attractive blond woman named Tasha Reynolds. She claims to be a Priscilla Presley look-a-like. Or at least, that’s what some people say.

"I was working at this mall in Los Angeles," says Reynolds, "and this guy would come by the store and yell, ‘Hey Priscilla! Hey Priscilla.’ It was the funniest thing."

Later, when the conversation changes to the significance of Elvis’ birth, Reynolds argues that the beginning of a person’s life should be marked by the day they are conceived.

"Because that’s when it really begins. We are all really nine months older than we say we are," insists Reynolds, smiling and moving her hand across her belly. "Before I had my daughter, I could feel her moving inside me."

This most basic movement of life may be what Elvis was tapping when he first walked out on stage and allowed his lips to quiver, his legs to quake, and his hips to swivel with delicious force. What he did was unprecedented. It hadn’t been conceived by many Americans before he became a star. Elvis taught white America how to party from the waist down–in public.

Before he was born, Elvis shared his mother’s womb with a twin. Jesse Garon Presley was delivered stillborn, while his brother seemed to possess an untamed life force. As bandmate D.J. Fontana remembers in Last Train to Memphis, "Elvis was one of those guys that had a lot of energy. A superhyper guy–superhyper."

His fans watched this energy flare up on stage, on the Hollywood screen and then on stage again during his 1970s comeback shows in Las Vegas. Before his death in 1977, Elvis’ energy began to dwindle. On his birthday in 1975, he reportedly told friends that he was "fat and 40" and didn’t want to see anybody.

That day, Elvis took refuge at Graceland, the colonial mansion he bought when he was 22. Since then, the home has provided a constant backdrop for his life as a celebrity. That life continues, moving inside every rock 'n' roll fan. It takes shape as sideburns on men’s faces and as an excuse to trek to Graceland once a year. The draw to this place is great because Graceland is a building Elvis never left.

First Published: January 12, 2000 • Metro Pulse

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