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Aug. 24th, 2022 10:08 pm1. Finished Elvis: The Searcher - a Two Part Documentary" on HBO Max. The link takes you to Part I.
It's a fascinating and somewhat tragic documentary - that kind of works as a cautionary tale of the toxic nature of fame or the toxicity of obtaining fame far too soon.
At one point, someone asks Elvis what it means to be a rock star. ""The image is one thing and the human being is another. It's very hard to live up to an image."
And I think it finally killed him. Although he apparently didn't expect to live long - and was driven to get as far as he could in a short period of time.
According to his wife, Priscilla, he never took recreational drugs. The drugs he was on - were all prescription. He got hooked on uppers early on - in the service. To stay awake during the long days, and thought he had it under control - and he did for a long time. Then he had a real fear of not being able to fall asleep at night - his mind got busy, so he took downers to come down. (Prescribed sleeping pills.) It got out of control in the 1970s, when he kept going on tour. He really wanted to do an International Tour, but the Colonel prevented him from doing it, and Elvis didn't know how to get away from the Colonel. According to the Colonel, he tried to keep Elvis from going on another concert tour, to scale back, but Elvis refused. For those that knew him - he came alive on stage, it was as if the real Elvis was on stage, and he was shell of himself off stage. He owned the stage. Priscilla said she'd never seen anyone control an audience the way he could. Which may explain why he was so determined to go on tour - the Vegas Audience wasn't doing it for him - he had troubles connecting to it.
The problem was that he was depressed, he wasn't creating new music, he had gotten divorced (because you can't be a father to your kid and a husband while on tour 24/7 and most of the year), and he was mostly alone. Elvis was an introvert and rather shy. And exhausted.
He was doing over 100 concerts a year in the 1970s. He'd gained weight, a cardinal sin in show business, and he was forgetting words and struggling to get through songs - because of the number of drugs he was on. (Kind of similar to what happened to Michael Jackson and Prince.)
He died during a brief break between tours in 1977. By that time, he completed 31 films, recorded 784 songs, and done 1,684 concerts - all within a twenty-three year time-span, two of which were in the service.
The documentary states that Elvis Presley got lost in the iconic Elvis or the creation. And it's true, and very sad.
What's odd is that most people, including myself and my mother for that matter, only really saw the Elvis of 1975 on wards, or the self-destructive version, or the one in the bad movies. We didn't see the raw talent that came up through the turbulent 50s and 60s, and crossed racial and class boundaries, blending various genres. Or the brilliant musician. That all got lost in the glitz, and Vegas style glamour of rhinestones and capes.
It reminds me of how important it is to look deeper, to see beneath the surface, and how people are often more than one thing, and far deeper than we may think. And how often our perception of what is real - isn't.
***
2. I've been listening to the Nashville recording sessions at work via Apple Music (I've an Apple Music subscription which combined with Apple TV and Apple icloud, isn't all that much. It's all in one or $14. Because I've various Apple devices.) The recording sessions are entertaining, because they give insight on how he created and produced his sound, how music is made, and the mistakes and hard work involved - with much trial and error.
I'm finding it comforting. Particularly the gospel numbers, which are oddly beautiful.
I need to be comforted right now. And there's something about Elvis' voice at this moment in time that is comforting me. I really have no idea why, it just is. I think on some weird level - I find him relatable, also it makes me feel closer to my father - who did collect Elvis records in the 1950s and 60s, and was a contemporary of Elvis. Maybe it's the nostalgia. God knows. But it was a balm today. I was able to focus on what I was doing, while the music filtering through my Bose earphones held the world at bay.
And the world right now...has been making me a little crazy. So I needed to hold it at bay.
Watching the Elvis documentary - I was all too aware of how the world had made Elvis a touch crazy. His wife believes he gave up. He was tired. And felt trapped. The world is not an easy place for shy odd ducks, or square pegs. It never has been.
The albums that I'm listening to are: Elvis Back in Nashville - which I stopped when he got into the Christmas songs. (I can't really listen to Christmas songs at the moment.)
And.. From Elvis in Nashville - which is a bit better, what's great is often his commentary on the songs, and various takes. It gives the listener insight on the process - which I adore. (I'm a bit of a process nerd.)
***
3. I was going to talk about a Spike fanfic that is being published as an actual novel - per Twitter, but I can't find the review or the post, so never mind. [It's a review of a commercially published fanfic novella about Spike in the early 1900s after Angel took off, and he's fending for Darla and Dru, and decides to do a heist - post killing his first slayer. The reviewers praises the fic, while at the same time reaming Joss Whedon. It's rather amusing. My take-away? So we can commercially publish Buffy fanfic now?]
Ah found the book. Seriously you can find anything on Google now. All I did was put into Google - Spike heist novel - and voila!
Bloody Fool for Love by William Ritter
Bloody Fool for Love from New York Times best-selling author William Ritter marks the beginning of an all-new series that explores prequel stories about fan-favorite Buffy characters.
Spike just wants to enjoy the spoils of his new badass reputation. He’s now a legendary slayer-killer, and he’s returning to London―the greatest city in the world. Unfortunately, his new abode is far from ideal (mostly a dank basement), and the rest of his strange little “family” is reeling from the fact that their patriarch, Angel, abandoned them. Spike’s love, Drusilla, seems especially heartbroken over the loss and spends her time lost in her tarot cards and planning their next gruesome family dinner when they all can be reunited.
Desperate to break Dru out of her melancholy, Spike vows to steal a powerful relic that will help her focus on their dark future together. It’s the perfect plan―that is until a monster named Gunnar, leader of the demon underworld of London, steals the relic first. Forced to form his own ragtag group of mercenaries, Spike plans an epic heist against a ruthless gang of undead criminals. Confronted with paranormal plots, royal black ops, and tea (they may be abominations, but they’re British abominations, thank you very much), Spike soon realizes that his homecoming is about to get bloody.
This rompy, action-packed novel inspired by one of Buffy’s most infamous bad boys is part Bonnie and Clyde, part Sherlock and Watson, with just a bit more bloodsucking.
A NY Times Best-Selling Author can't come up with his own characters and world to sell to the world at large? Really? Best-Selling Authors no longer are permitted to disparage fanfic from this point forward.
Also? Does this mean We can all commercially publish Buffy fanfic now? [Short answer: No, it does not. It was okayed by the rights holder who is probably still Fox.]
It's a fascinating and somewhat tragic documentary - that kind of works as a cautionary tale of the toxic nature of fame or the toxicity of obtaining fame far too soon.
At one point, someone asks Elvis what it means to be a rock star. ""The image is one thing and the human being is another. It's very hard to live up to an image."
And I think it finally killed him. Although he apparently didn't expect to live long - and was driven to get as far as he could in a short period of time.
According to his wife, Priscilla, he never took recreational drugs. The drugs he was on - were all prescription. He got hooked on uppers early on - in the service. To stay awake during the long days, and thought he had it under control - and he did for a long time. Then he had a real fear of not being able to fall asleep at night - his mind got busy, so he took downers to come down. (Prescribed sleeping pills.) It got out of control in the 1970s, when he kept going on tour. He really wanted to do an International Tour, but the Colonel prevented him from doing it, and Elvis didn't know how to get away from the Colonel. According to the Colonel, he tried to keep Elvis from going on another concert tour, to scale back, but Elvis refused. For those that knew him - he came alive on stage, it was as if the real Elvis was on stage, and he was shell of himself off stage. He owned the stage. Priscilla said she'd never seen anyone control an audience the way he could. Which may explain why he was so determined to go on tour - the Vegas Audience wasn't doing it for him - he had troubles connecting to it.
The problem was that he was depressed, he wasn't creating new music, he had gotten divorced (because you can't be a father to your kid and a husband while on tour 24/7 and most of the year), and he was mostly alone. Elvis was an introvert and rather shy. And exhausted.
He was doing over 100 concerts a year in the 1970s. He'd gained weight, a cardinal sin in show business, and he was forgetting words and struggling to get through songs - because of the number of drugs he was on. (Kind of similar to what happened to Michael Jackson and Prince.)
He died during a brief break between tours in 1977. By that time, he completed 31 films, recorded 784 songs, and done 1,684 concerts - all within a twenty-three year time-span, two of which were in the service.
The documentary states that Elvis Presley got lost in the iconic Elvis or the creation. And it's true, and very sad.
What's odd is that most people, including myself and my mother for that matter, only really saw the Elvis of 1975 on wards, or the self-destructive version, or the one in the bad movies. We didn't see the raw talent that came up through the turbulent 50s and 60s, and crossed racial and class boundaries, blending various genres. Or the brilliant musician. That all got lost in the glitz, and Vegas style glamour of rhinestones and capes.
It reminds me of how important it is to look deeper, to see beneath the surface, and how people are often more than one thing, and far deeper than we may think. And how often our perception of what is real - isn't.
***
2. I've been listening to the Nashville recording sessions at work via Apple Music (I've an Apple Music subscription which combined with Apple TV and Apple icloud, isn't all that much. It's all in one or $14. Because I've various Apple devices.) The recording sessions are entertaining, because they give insight on how he created and produced his sound, how music is made, and the mistakes and hard work involved - with much trial and error.
I'm finding it comforting. Particularly the gospel numbers, which are oddly beautiful.
I need to be comforted right now. And there's something about Elvis' voice at this moment in time that is comforting me. I really have no idea why, it just is. I think on some weird level - I find him relatable, also it makes me feel closer to my father - who did collect Elvis records in the 1950s and 60s, and was a contemporary of Elvis. Maybe it's the nostalgia. God knows. But it was a balm today. I was able to focus on what I was doing, while the music filtering through my Bose earphones held the world at bay.
And the world right now...has been making me a little crazy. So I needed to hold it at bay.
Watching the Elvis documentary - I was all too aware of how the world had made Elvis a touch crazy. His wife believes he gave up. He was tired. And felt trapped. The world is not an easy place for shy odd ducks, or square pegs. It never has been.
The albums that I'm listening to are: Elvis Back in Nashville - which I stopped when he got into the Christmas songs. (I can't really listen to Christmas songs at the moment.)
And.. From Elvis in Nashville - which is a bit better, what's great is often his commentary on the songs, and various takes. It gives the listener insight on the process - which I adore. (I'm a bit of a process nerd.)
***
3. I was going to talk about a Spike fanfic that is being published as an actual novel - per Twitter, but I can't find the review or the post, so never mind. [It's a review of a commercially published fanfic novella about Spike in the early 1900s after Angel took off, and he's fending for Darla and Dru, and decides to do a heist - post killing his first slayer. The reviewers praises the fic, while at the same time reaming Joss Whedon. It's rather amusing. My take-away? So we can commercially publish Buffy fanfic now?]
Ah found the book. Seriously you can find anything on Google now. All I did was put into Google - Spike heist novel - and voila!
Bloody Fool for Love by William Ritter
Bloody Fool for Love from New York Times best-selling author William Ritter marks the beginning of an all-new series that explores prequel stories about fan-favorite Buffy characters.
Spike just wants to enjoy the spoils of his new badass reputation. He’s now a legendary slayer-killer, and he’s returning to London―the greatest city in the world. Unfortunately, his new abode is far from ideal (mostly a dank basement), and the rest of his strange little “family” is reeling from the fact that their patriarch, Angel, abandoned them. Spike’s love, Drusilla, seems especially heartbroken over the loss and spends her time lost in her tarot cards and planning their next gruesome family dinner when they all can be reunited.
Desperate to break Dru out of her melancholy, Spike vows to steal a powerful relic that will help her focus on their dark future together. It’s the perfect plan―that is until a monster named Gunnar, leader of the demon underworld of London, steals the relic first. Forced to form his own ragtag group of mercenaries, Spike plans an epic heist against a ruthless gang of undead criminals. Confronted with paranormal plots, royal black ops, and tea (they may be abominations, but they’re British abominations, thank you very much), Spike soon realizes that his homecoming is about to get bloody.
This rompy, action-packed novel inspired by one of Buffy’s most infamous bad boys is part Bonnie and Clyde, part Sherlock and Watson, with just a bit more bloodsucking.
A NY Times Best-Selling Author can't come up with his own characters and world to sell to the world at large? Really? Best-Selling Authors no longer are permitted to disparage fanfic from this point forward.
Also? Does this mean We can all commercially publish Buffy fanfic now? [Short answer: No, it does not. It was okayed by the rights holder who is probably still Fox.]