Dream a little dream

Last night, I experienced nightmares that were bookended to when I went to bed and when I woke up. I'm tempted to tell you what they were, but I ran them past my co-worker and she was horrified, so I think I'll spare all of you. Let's just say I'm not looking forward to seeing "Signs" tonight.

It capped off a day where nothing was wrong, but I just felt shitty and confrontational. No matter what I did, I would just be harshly negative and out of sorts. I need a day off.

Well, the weekend for me starts in an hour, but I'm packed full Saturday and I need to help with the Europe trip plans. My mission (which I did accept): find places to stay in Paris. I know, rough gig.

Anyway, I may not be posting all much in the next couple days. However, I do what to take a minute to reflect on the 25th anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley.

Elvis (literally and figuratively) fell from the throne when I was about 5. Of course, being 5, I had no understanding or context about the late King, my brain had been taken over a couple months earlier after my dad took me to see a small adventure film called "Star Wars."

As I grew up, I knew who Elvis was; I just didn't care. I had living heroes to worship: Pink Floyd, Eric Clapton, Dire Straits. Elvis was this guy from the south who wiggled his hips, got famous, appeared in a bunch of crap films, got fat and died. The end. I never understood Elvis impersonators, the weeping fans at Graceland and the whole cult of personality.

But growing up and seeing the larger world around me, not to mention learning things like "context," I understand how Elvis was a trend-setter and a rebel. When he became big (famous, not big as in fat), his hips weren't allowed to be shown wiggling on TV, he brought black music into the homes of white people, he became one of the first major stars to be exposed through television and, later, movies. He oozed sex, charm and a self-effacing wit. He was ready for his close-up in some visual broadcast medium three decades before someone put the letters M and TV together.

He also left behind some kick-ass music. The opening bars of "Jailhouse Rock" are probably one of the mostly recognizable in the world (a song that I think pre-dates not only grunge, but punk, in its feral societal stance). "Heartbreak Hotel." "Hound Dog." "Blue Suede Shoes." All classics. And, of course, a clunker like "In the Ghetto" would pop up from time to time, but hey, even Ted Williams struck out once in a while.

Presley connected the mainstream (white) youth to a primal energy with his music, a music that was in the domain of black, and therefore ignored or niche crowd, players. You can argue that Presley just ripped off black music, but he did make it accessible to the general population and music was never the same.

The influence of King can still be felt today, and I'm not talking about the attendees flocking to Graceland to commemorate Elvis's death. The Dutch DJ Junkie XL put out a remix of the Elvis Song "A Little Less Conversation," which got picked up by Nike for a shoe commercial and later the catchy techno-Elvis tune became an unofficial anthem for the 2002 World Cup. I may not like Elvis, but this song just rocks with a cocky, wild abandon. It reincarnates Presley at the height of his cool and exposes him to a new generation. Although I'm a bit squeamish about Nike's calculating corporate fingers being all over this song, there's something reassuring about the Junkie XL remix...a sort of immortality is granted. A new generation finds new life in a legend. Elvis's story goes on, hopping on the turntable of some DJ and pumping out in venues the King never imagined he would be playing. I imagine somewhere the dance crowd cheering and a specter in a sequined jumpsuit takes a ghostly towel, wipes his face, cocks an aw-shucks grin and mumbles in a molasses drawl "Ahhh..thank you. Thank you very much."