Walking in Memphis

Memphis was my dark horse. As Nashville is to country, I was apprehensive of the saturation of Elvis to Memphis. But like Nashville, I would soon find that Memphis was so much more than Elvis, and you almost had to search out Presley-mania, amongst all the rhythm and history at the Home of Blues.

We arrived mid afternoon to find that the hotel did not have our reservation and subsequent payment, but luckily they had a room anyway. We just needed to prove that we had paid....TBC. We dumped our luggage and headed in to town; Beale Street, more specifically. At this point, I have to say that I will challenge anyone who labels the likes of Beale Street, Broadway in Nashville, or Bourbon Street In New Orleans serving only as the obligatory tourist strips of respective iconic places. Yes, I know they are riddled with souvenir shops, and obviously the tourists keep the bars well and truly alive, but you can't say that they aren't still pumping out the good stuff. The music is the same as if you were out on the banks of the bayou in a lean-to that's quiverin' with the beats of the modern day cotton fields. And even though I do usually like to avoid the tourist traps, I just didn't see the need to do so here, you still get what you came for - this is where it all kicked off, and I wanted to feel it. And that's all I have to say about that.

Beale Street is only about 200m long, its blocked off to traffic, and rocks around the clock. Every pub/bar/restaurant you walk past is a neon assault on your eyes, but candy to your ears. I had no idea that Memphis was The Birthplace of Blues (only challenged by Chicago's claim - puh), and was ridiculously pleased that I had stumbled across this revelation in person, and very shortly after quite annoyed that Elvis had managed to overshadow this fact with his little jingles. We found a bar with the following motto for some grub and local cleansing ale:

It wasn't a late night, we had a huge day planned, although we didn't realise that plan entailed an hour long search for our grits. Memphis does the Blues well, breakfast is another story. It might just be that it was Halloween morning, but it took some time to locate an establishment serving breakfast, and our search ended back on Beale. By this stage we were OK with, and even kinda used to grits. Basically its like a cornmeal porridge. Best served with butter and sugar - but not for your recovering triple by-pass patients.

Fed and watered we headed straight down Union to Sun Studios. Originally Memphis Recording Service, Sam Phillips started this studio to service the amazingly talented Blues singers and musicians emerging from all over the Delta. He'd record birthdays, weddings, anything on his portable one track to get the funds together to find the acts really worth recording. There's a whole mess of names that were emerging from Memphis Recording Service before Elvis even thought about lying his pants off to set foot inside the studio.

Memphis Recording Services, better known as SUN Studios. You can still lay down a track or two for $35, or for the meagre sum of $85 per hour record your whole damned album.

The tour was pretty cool. Our host gave a unabashed plug for his own album recorded right there at Sun, but also gave us an informative tour of the studio and the music that poured from its walls. Oh, Elvis's aforementioned lie? He got past the Secretary to record his break though hit That's Alright Mama by saying it was for his Ma's birthday. This was in June 1954, but him Ma's birthday was in April. It was also not the first time he'd been in Sun Studios - the year before he'd been in to record, but Phillips saw nothing new or worthwhile in the recording. It was also interesting to hear the Sun Studio official line for selling Elvis' contract for the seemingly stupid amount of $35k, but that amount enabled Sun Studios to go on to record a handful of other artists who would also become ridiculously famous. See below:

Not the mic that Elvis used, but a genuine piece from Sam Phillips collection that could have housed the spittle of some other up and coming star, maybe Junior Parker, B.B. King, or the Howlin' Wolf.

Just kidding - at the end of the tour we got to play around in the studio, it was pretty darn cool. It was nice wondering which of the stuff was original and which were new additions for the working studio.

Following that we were waiting outside for the Shuttle bus when I Saw the ghost of Elvis, On Union Avenue, Followed him up to the gates of Graceland, Then I watched him walk right through, (thanks Mr Marc Cohn)so I got a ticket and wandered around after him. Man, whoever is getting the money for Graceland is doing exceptionally well. I mean, after the immaculate upkeep of the house and grounds, and the ample staff salaries, the audio equipment every guest wears for their own private tour, and the running costs for the vans that drive you from the ticket office across Elvis Presley Boulevard and us the driveway to the front doors of Graceland, man they must be making um, a little bit.

The upstairs of Graceland is off limits. Now I don't know whether this is because Elvis had always kept this area private to all guests, or whether its cause the plebs who only get the 'Platinum' ticket and not the 'Entourage VIP' ticket for more than double the price. Its interesting to see the things people with money will buy. I mean does celebrity revoke taste? And the music room below was by no means the 'best' of it. My personal favourite would have to be the famed Jungle room, complete with green shag pile carpet on the floor, walls and ceiling????

All in all, the tour was really good - actually much better than I expected, but I'm still not a fan of the music. The hype is amazing, but I can't help wondering when its all going to fade out. I mean there are still 1st generation hard core Elvis fans alive to maintain this musical pilgrimage, but then what? Will it just be the curious? Those in town with an afternoon to spare? How long can Elvis' pelvis endure?

By the time we got back into town, it was getting kind of late. The Gibson factory was closing up, as was the soul museum, but we noticed a great deal of activity at the stadium next door. Turns out it was the 1st game of the season for the Memphis Grizzlies NBA team, playing off against last years World Champions (which we questioned A LOT, as the Americans are the only ones playing...), the San Antonio Spurs. Our Spur of the moment decision was to get tickets and go support some local talent. I don't know whether it was just cause it was the 1st game of the season that had everyone fired up or what, but despite the stadium only being half full, the atmosphere was crazy. Team flags were being handed out at the gates as soon as you walked in, and being Halloween, there were kids dressed up in all sorts of costumes. It was really cool. The game was a great match - tight the entire time, until the Spurs edged ahead in the last few minutes, eventually winning by 3 points. Obviously we were devastated...

Wednesday night, shmensday night, everyone was out after the game. There was even a troupe of bikers that had ridden in just for the hell of it to party it up on the Beale. It was our last night of Road trip, and the last night I would see these guys for who knows how long. We were in the mood to party, just like everyone else. The good vibe continued when we got back to the hotel to find that the reservation had finally been sorted out!

Look, it wasn't the most informative of trips, I certainly didn't go out of my way to learn about stuff like I might in other places, but I was cruisin' with my posse for the first time in 6 months. We didn't get as deep as I might have liked through the South, but what we did we did well. Its a part of the states that most don't get to - well, I mean its usually further down the list than LA, or New York etc. But I'm really pleased we did what we did. Even though many people offered to take our photos for us, I think there's something in the group self portrait. Maybe not much, but we like them.