Elvis C.'s book is long (see previous post), so a 2nd post about it seems fine to me. There is lots of bitter, "gallows humor" in the book. The kind of humor a lapsed Catholic of Irish descent always revels in. Seems all was not peachy keen for "Little E." Like most of us, much his pain and turmoil came from his own hubris and a long series of self-inflicted wounds.
Anyway a few additional thoughts and tidbits...
Elvis burst on the scene like a hyper-active, angry and guilt-ridden Buddy Holly. Bigger glasses, even more nerdy, certainly pissed-off and edgy. He became famous for his insolent smirk. Funny, bitter, witty. Maybe too witty, too self-satisfied. But really thoroughly guilt-ridden. A chip on his shoulder.
Some of it was a pose, but the essence was real. Elvis was funny & angry & guilt-ridden. Right out of the box.
Like he says in the book, I'm paraphrasing, he wrote bitter songs for a certain kind of creep. His sudden success blew his life to smithereens. There was lots of wreckage along the way - broken vows, broken promises, broken beer bottles.
He was punched out by Bonnie Bramlett in a bar in a Holiday Inn in the late 70's. Elvis was blind drunk and belligerent, and said some terribly derogatory things about Ray Charles and James Brown. Bonnie laid him out (You go girl!). This event hung over Elvis like a black cloud for many, many years. Chalk it up to too much booze and hubris.
Over the years there was a mellowing. And Elvis became a go-to collaborator. He's played with everyone, written songs with some of the greatest song-writers in the Universe. Most of his work has a melancholy mood. But he really, really knows how to write a compelling lyric.
The last few years he writes about characters. Not so much his own personal history. He tells us it's better for his head and heart that way.
What I love about the book, it makes me want to listen to music - Joe Henry, the Pogues, Allen Toussaint, Solomon Burke, Burt Bacharach, Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney.
Just like Elvis, my taste in music has grown over the years. Suddenly all those odd detours and unique collaborations that Little E. took are intriguing and compelling. The last few days I have been listening to the record Elvis made with Burt Bacharach. It has been sitting on a shelf for years. I dusted it off and it's been on infinite replay the last few days.
It's not r&r, by any means, flugelhorns & strings, it's some kind of brilliant, shimmering, chamber-pop, or something like that. Pretty amazing stuff. So yes, Elvis. This Elvis too. More than a footnote.