A Dream Come True (1963 Soviet science fiction film)

Continuing my exploration of classic Soviet science-fiction movies, I come to 'A Dream Come True', also known as 'Toward Meeting a Dream' (original title:- Mechte navstrechu), which was originally released in 1963. The film was directed by Mikhail Karyukov and Otar Koberidze.

The premise of the story is reasonably straightforward. A spaceship from a distant planet, journeying towards Earth, encounters difficulties and consequently lands on the planet Mars. The authorities on Earth dispatch spacecraft to render assistance and establish contact.

Although the plot is not that innovative, and in places it flirts with corniness, I found it to be quite an affecting picture. Visually it is lavish, and in its relative slickness it does not necessarily conform to our expectations of science fiction movies from that era. The impression is that the budget was above-average for this type of project, and this is reinforced by the quality of the 'special effects'. There is also some highly effective electronic music, courtesy of Eduard Artemyev.

The 'script' and the narrative explore the standard themes from Soviet films from this genre - faith in science and human progress, peace and international solidarity.  As is often the case, Space is employed as a metaphor for events on Earth. 

If there is an underlying message or philosophical conclusion from the story, it is perhaps one of sacrifice for the greater good, and for the sake of knowledge and progress. Also, that we should not assume the hostile or malign intentions of the inhabitants of other planets. I interpreted the level of political moralizing to be comparatively mild and subtle. To be honest, once one has watched a certain number of old Soviet sci-fi movies, some hard-nosed pragmatism and 'realpolitik' would be welcome as a counterpoint to the unremitting diet of 'idealism' and utopianism. 

A Dream Come True contains more in the way of emotion and 'romance' than your typical sci-fi work, and this might alienate some people who prefer a more 'ascetic' and clinical ambience in such films. The tone and aesthetic of the film are distinctly 'early Sixties' in flavour.

This might not be the most cerebral of science fiction films, but it is quite 'rounded', gripping and satisfying as a watching experience. The conclusion to the film does leave a glimmer of doubt, though.

Red - King Crimson

From time to time, and by and large this is a process that first made itself visible to me around my  mid-twenties, my musical horizons and my musical sensibilities undergo a realignment. Over the past couple of years, I sense that I have gone through one such phase. If my musical world-view is like a living creature, then its sinews become stronger and more dextrous, and the process feels like a natural companion to the cycles of life.

Part of this latest renewal was fuelled by my properly exploring the music of King Crimson for the first time. All of their albums from the period 1969-1974 are noteworthy in their own right but Red, released in 1974, warrants special praise and examination.

I think that one of the things which sets Red apart is its deceptiveness.  It perhaps has a reputation as 'uncompromising' and 'challenging', and early exposure can reinforce this notion, but more careful inspection reveals the marrying of differing tendencies. Moments which might induce a sense of foreboding are tempered by flourishes of melody and finesse. Importantly, the instruments are allowed space in which to breathe, and John Wetton's purposeful but soothing vocals introduce an extra dimension.

It is worth noting that even before this record was released, King Crimson had disbanded, a move which in fact turned out to be a mere hiatus. I have heard it postulated that this move demonstrated great savoir-faire, by anticipating dramatic shifts in the direction of rock music. From my point of view, in any just, rational world King Crimson should not have had anything to fear had they remained together.

Red is portentous, in the creative and constructive senses of the word, and indicative of a cultural time and place, but without the posturing. Just look at some of the people who 'name-check' the record. Its aesthetic, and the brand of edgy and challenging prog-rock which it exemplifies, endure brightly. King Crimson's music from this period has a curious and invigorating quality. Melodic yet propulsive, organic yet modernistic, crystalline yet strangely calming. 

The original LP had just five tracks, but it doesn't need any more to make it fulfilling and impactful. 

The (instrumental) title track really does set the tone. For 1974, this is heavy stuff.  Bill Bruford's work on drums and percussion definitely imbued the group with additional depth and Robert Fripp's guitar teeters on the verge of losing control. There is a menace and a sense of purpose which for me are emblematic of Crimson at this stage of their evolution.

'Fallen Angel' benefits from a strong melodic base, an endearing John Wetton vocal and a reflective, almost wistful quality, but it also emits some of the darkness and anger which permeates the record as a whole.

In my estimation 'One More Red Nightmare' is the centrepiece, epitomizing the 'duality' which is one of the album's most striking traits. The saxophone passages, some 'surreal' percussion, the driving guitar riffs and the energetic vocal all form part of the mixture. 

The track 'Providence' is very 'experimental', it must be admitted, but it does have its pleasing moments, and the vitality of what surrounds it perhaps excuses some indulgence.

And then to 'Starless', one of the group's signature songs. The central guitar motif is highly lyrical, seductive almost, and the separation between instruments, and between instruments and vocals, is in keeping with the album's general orientation. Saxophone is employed again, this time more softly, and greatly enriching the palette. The 'middle section' of the track might seem uninspired at first, but stick with it! 

This is the kind of album which reveals more of its secrets and its dark recesses with each successive listen. Not always a comforting experience, but invariably a rewarding one.

Spycatcher - Peter Wright (with Paul Greengrass)

 In surveying the books on my shelves, I have been identifying those works which have thus far escaped my full and intensive attention. One such tome was Spycatcher, the "memoirs" of the former British intelligence (MI5) officer Peter Wright. This book is perhaps best remembered for the media and political storm which accompanied its original publication back in the 1980s.

Wright provides some enlightening biographical information, with hints that he didn't altogether fit the typical pattern of a British intelligence office from those days, in terms of background and outlook. 

It is the case that since the book was published, some observers have sought to question the veracity of Wright's views concerning the supposed high-level Soviet penetration of MI5.  I did make allowances for the criticisms of Wright and his book, but I still found it to be an illuminating and interesting read. The tone of the book is rather less "antagonistic" and uniformly "truculent" than I had anticipated. 

On the surface, Wright seems sincere and constructive in what he says about the shortcomings in procedure and methodology within the security services, both before and during his time, and he seems to have been world-weary and pragmatic from quite an early stage. His recollections also bring home the relentless, all-pervasive nature of Cold War espionage, but also how thoroughly mundane and 'routine' most of the activity actually was. 

As I worked my way through Spycatcher, I found myself wondering to what extent espionage was regarded as a 'game' and an 'end' in itself, rather than as a means to an end. After all, the operatives were supposed to be, ultimately, acting in our interests, but maybe the thrill and stimulus of the 'game' were required to enable the spies and officers to function in such as way as to be effective in discharging their duties.

More than a little space is taken up with less than thrilling descriptions of how certain technical gadgetry was developed, though things are enlivened by amusing anecdotes about how such equipment was installed and concealed. Some of the innovations sounded distinctly 'James Bond', others more 'Heath Robinson'.

As someone whose world-view has shifted to the left of centre in recent times, due to personal experiences and lengthy study and contemplation, I was occasionally left wondering about the purpose and the result of the British espionage and counter-espionage activity. 

Moral and ethical misgivings apart, it is impossible not to admire the resourcefulness and ingenuity of the operatives. Whatever we may think of the motives behind their activities, it plainly required intellect, finesse and no little resilience.

I quite liked Peter Wright's stories about his interactions with notable figures in the American intelligence community, especially James Angleton. 

A feature of the story, particularly in Wright's early days in the service, was the apparent informality of how he and his colleagues went about accomplishing their tasks; utilizing contacts and networking to obtain assistance and expedite investigations. The world seems to have been less rigidly "procedural" back then.

Occasionally, Wright places counterespionage episodes into a broader strategic or geopolitical context, such as the implications for arms control. These were some of the most impressive passages in the entire book.

The perception which emerges overall is that Soviet Union was "on the front foot" for the majority of the time, although in truth this does not come as a drastic revelation to me in 2021. One system was on the defensive, some might say by its very nature.

Whatever the substance of the book's central claims, it is difficult not to be captivated by imaginings of what it was like in intelligence and related circles, especially between the world wars. The idealism, the turbulence of the times, and also the feverishly tenuous existence of some of the individuals involved. Being righteous and committed was not always the tranquil and easy route.

I have to say that there is real drama in the chapters which deal with important interrogations, or with meetings which Mr Wright attended with luminaries of the secret world. Equally, one can sense the frustration when politics, or even more sinister motives, inhibited the path to efficiency or justice. It may be the case that, in this arena, objective truth is an elusive thing.

There is something rather poignant and affecting about the closing chapters, as Wright's career draws to its close. There is a changing of the guard, a shifting of priorities within the security services, and loose ends remaining unresolved. We also gain an idea of how the intelligence agencies "interfaced" with Whitehall, and the intrigues which this entailed.

Even when taking parts of the book with a pinch of salt, I found Spycatcher to be quite gripping, and I am glad that I took the trouble to read it in full.

The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars - David Bowie

There are some records which render the listener open-mouthed and humble at their consummate effervescence, mastery and inventiveness. An example of this is David Bowie's 1972 glam-rock opus The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders from Mars. If you ever find someone enquiring what 'all the fuss' is about Bowie, just play this for them. It should swiftly assuage their doubts.

A little while ago I blogged my thoughts on the great man's previous LP, Hunky Dory  , That magnificent album succeeds partly on its mystique and its restrained brilliance.  The 'Ziggy Stardust' record is a more demonstrative and outgoing creature, dazzling and bewitching, whereas Hunky Dory charms and beguiles. This was all part of the astounding burst of creativity which Bowie essayed in the early 1970s, stemming from his innate talent and a boundless curiosity about cultural trends and modes of expression.

Over the years people have made veiled accusations that Bowie 'appropriated' ideas which were already thriving 'underground' and brought them into the mainstream. Whilst there may be some substance to these remarks, Bowie was far from alone in harnessing such forces, and cultivating the clarity of vision and the savvy to do so successfully is a talent in itself. If it was so easy, why weren't other people doing it to similar effect?  My philosophy is simply to savour the product of Bowie's inquisitiveness, which decisively outweighs any qualms which people may voice.

Song-for-song, the record represents a powerful outburst and flowering of ideas. It is more mainstream, arguably, than Hunky Dory, but exudes enormous vitality and command. The music has a crystalline and vibrant urgency which makes it stand out.

For all its reputation as a repository of 'futuristic' and 'visionary' work, much of the album's content is firmly rooted in decidedly 'traditional' rock and pop music styles. So by some interpretations it may be viewed as musically 'conservative', but there is little doubt about it being adventurous and daring in a 'philosophical' sense. This juxtaposition of the musical foundations with the 'poetic' orientations helps to imbue 'Ziggy Stardust' with its edge and its bite.

The 'retro' flavour of some of the music means that it has something in common with other glam-rock offerings from the early 1970s. There, however, the tenuous similarities end. Its sweep and its scope make it altogether more ambitious and progressive than the majority of the 'competition'.

'Five Years', the opening number, very much conforms to notions about musical 'traditionalism' as a motif pervading the album. In another respect this song goes against conventions, in that it is an 'untypical' choice to commence proceedings, not being up-tempo or vigorous. To some extent 'Five Years' introduces a template; 'old-time' with clear traces of modernism. This 'syncretic' character is part of what propels the whole project.

From the outset another pattern becomes clear. For all the talk of 'post-modernism', most of these recordings are underpinned by a solid, organic core, often consisting of acoustic guitars and piano, as a layer anchoring the sound in reality. Depth is thus added to the sonic strata, and the separation between instruments is another appealing feature. 

Bowie sounds remarkably self-assured and in control of what he is doing, and this sensitivity extends to ensuring that the music is 'cinematic' without lapsing into bombast, not always an easy balance to achieve. The listener is soon immersed in the unremitting excellence, and there is an abundance of ideas and surprises to maintain the interest.

A word too for those who helped with the production and the arrangements. 'Soul Love' is an example of a fairly ordinary track which is elevated by some inventiveness in these areas. A reminder, maybe, that music is often a 'holistic' discipline.

For me 'Moonage Daydream' is the 1970s Bowie creation par excellence. Again, Bowie exudes a certain mastery, and the dramatic soundscapes help transport the listener to a different plane - there is lots going on!. We also get a glimpse here of Mick Ronson's importance to the sound.

'Starman' is perhaps the most well-known song here. Like many of the compositions, it illustrates Bowie's often-overlooked gift for melody and 'musicality'. The sonic palette is again embellished to great effect, with guitars and what sounds like a Mellotron. It may also be that this song is a showcase for the star's idiosyncratic method of lyric-writing, with words which conjure up vivid images in the mind.

It has to be said that 'It Ain't Easy' is an unexceptional piece, and it sounds to my ears as though they tried a little too hard to infuse it with some zest and excitement. 

My feeling is that with 'Lady Stardust' we begin to reach the heart of the album, on more than one level. It possesses a rich and sinuous melody, which in places is redolent of Elton John. The piano is also pleasing. In addition, Bowie's vision and faith in the material comes shining through once more.

'Star' sounds like a part of a greater whole than just a self-contained song. It has a 'live' and 'theatrical' feel, like it might belong in a rock opera. As it happens, it fits very well into this concept-album-of-sorts.

I would say that the next number, 'Hang On To Yourself', has some of the same qualities as the one which precedes it, if in more minimalist packaging. It possibly harks back to the Velvet Underground, whilst also looking forward tentatively to musical happenings of the later Seventies.

The title track has a strong melodic framework, and once more that air of authority which echoes throughout the entire LP. The impression one gets with so many of these tracks is of a preponderance of ideas and creativity from all concerned. 'Ziggy Stardust' the song also contains some memorable lyrical imagery.

'Suffragette City' embodies the same sort of frantic energy as ' Hang On To Yourself', with added Ronson flourishes.

The closer of the original album, 'Rock 'n' Roll Suicide', is a rather unlikely conclusion, meaning that the record is bookended by two intriguing choices. Again, a 'retro' atmosphere prevails here, and there is much to hold the interest as it unfolds. 

All in all, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars is a delight, and a thrilling and invigorating ride. The music is exuberant yet tasteful, accessible yet profound, edgy yet engaging. A landmark release.

The Visitors, by Abba

It is always a pleasure, a pleasant surprise, to discover the depth and quality of an artistic work to which one had previously given little more than cursory attention. Like turning a nodding acquaintance into a lifelong, meaningful friendship. I experienced this feeling not long ago when I decided to devote some undivided attention to Abba's 1981 album The Visitors.

This is a finely realised, confident and well-paced work. Given that this was the final studio album recorded by Abba before disbanding, one would perhaps expect to be confronted with a tired effort, lacking in ideas and inspiration. The mood is downbeat, it is true, but on the evidence here Abba, musically speaking, still had much to offer. It would seem that it was only other factors which precipitated the cessation of operations.

The Visitors finds Abba fully embracing new technology, such as synthesizers and electronics generally. They sound comfortable within this altered musical clothing and, far from being awkward or alien, the sounds ideally complement the lyrical tone and outlook of most of the songs, if we confine our appraisal to the original nine-track release.

So this is a mature and self-assured Abba, delivering a record which is cohesive. One of its strengths is that the 'lesser known' tracks capably hold matters together, plugging the gaps which characterize lesser records.

Much has been made of the cover/sleeve design, and the degree to which it embodies the mood of the songs, and the dynamic within the group at that point in time. Gone are the smiling faces and bright, primary colours. An autumnal flavour prevails, and this also permeates the music inside. Autumn, however, can be an invigorating and productive time....

The title track, which seemingly concerns itself with the plight of Soviet dissidents, is a shrewd selection to open with. It sets the tone, and in a cool and controlled way illustrates Abba's acceptance and quiet mastery of the opportunities which the new technology opened up.

As for 'Head Over Heels', this is very sophisticated and 'European' in its style, and helps to remind us that Abba were not simply adopting the fashionable or vogue-ish styles of the period, or acting as opportunists. They were, if perhaps not in the vanguard, then certainly more ahead of the game than numerous other prominent acts, and they arguably helped to popularize the notion of electro-pop or synth-orientated pop music, and to place them into the mainstream.

'When All Is Said And Done' is underpinned by a strong melodic and rhythmic base, and the lyrics perhaps exemplify the general themes which run through the album. Melodically there are definite shades of the 'old' Abba, but with less 'organic' backing.

The first of the 'unknown' songs, which contribute so much to the album's substance, is 'Soldiers', which tackles 'real world' issues, but in a poetic and universal way.  Who knows whether there is also some hidden meaning in there, regarding personal relationships? In this song I detected musical echoes of an earlier Abba song, 'Eagle', albeit with less of the grandeur.

'I Let The Music Speak' fulfils a similar role to 'Soldiers', although carrying a different message. More words which appear to reflect the prevailing ambience. What is striking is how convincing and sincere Abba sound here without seeming maudlin or excessively self-pitying. Their pop-craft, honed so much by then, helps them to achieve this. An intangible sense of what worked, and what didn't work, coupled with a facility for expressing emotion compactly and powerfully.

There are several outstanding candidates for the title of the song which most aptly sums up 'late period' Abba, and I think that 'One Of Us' qualifies better than most. The backing track, the lyrics and the poignant and emotive melody and singing, all communicate to me a feeling of an era drawing to a close. In a way, the atmosphere resembles that of Side 2 of the Beatles' Abbey Road album.

To round up the remaining numbers on the original nine-song release, 'Two For The Price Of One' is quite minor, but not without its quirky charm. 'Slipping Through My Fingers' is a fine ballad with apparently very personal lyrics, dealing with adult concerns. In a different context, this might have made a great Eurovision song. 'Like An Angel Passing Through My Room' is a suitably downbeat and vaguely enigmatic way to end the original album.

With or without the bonus tracks which padded out the re-issues of The Visitors, the record stands as a highly developed and substantial collection of musical statements. In some respects it might just be the strongest of their studio albums.

Nosferatu (1922 film)

 In keeping with my haphazard exploration of certain genres of cinema, I recently viewed Nosferatu: A Symphony Of Horror, the classic 1922 German silent horror film, directed by F W Murnau, and starring Max Schreck.

This film is essentially a 'Dracula' movie.  The main character's name was changed to Count Orlok (played by Schreck). This, and other alterations from the original tale of Dracula, were made in an attempt to avoid copyright complications.

Nosferatu bears many of the hallmarks of the German Expressionist school, although I find that the sets and 'backgrounds' are less overtly emblematic of the style than, for example, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.

It could be argued that exaggerated body language and facial expressions are present in most silent films, and they help to overcome the absence of spoken dialogue, and also heighten symbolism and the curiosity of the viewer. Emotion and meaning can be transmitted more deeply and acutely with the 'over the top' gestures and behaviour.  However, the impact of this acting 'style' seems even more pronounced when combined with some of the characteristics of German Expressionism, powerfully complementing the 'inanimate' features of the landscape or background.

This picture is almost one hundred years old, but its enduring resonance and draw underline the fact that film-making is about imagination, sensitivity and ideas, not cutting-edge technology or budget.  The limitations of the equipment possibly led people to dig deeper into their reserves. In addition, the relatively 'primitive' visuals and production values caused the viewers to delve into their own imaginations.

Acting-wise, Max Schreck naturally garners much of the attention in this film, and he is indeed captivating and scary, but another standout performance is that of Gustav von Wangenheim in the role of Thomas Hutter,

The outdoor settings are suitably bleak and forbidding, as are many of the sets and buildings, and the indoor locations, but again I would contend that the imagery is perhaps more subtle and less 'distorted' than some other movies from the same sub-genre. 

Good use is made of shadow, and not just in the very famous shots of Schreck ascending the staircase. It remains striking and humbling what film-makers were able to achieve in those days. And it was not just a case of innovation for the sake of innovation; such things were an integral part of the emotional narrative.

Nosferatu has an intangible power, which both absorbs and disturbs the viewer, and it is undeniably an astounding feat of cinema. A work of art as much as a film.

Last Train To Memphis - The Rise of Elvis Presley - Peter Guralnick

Last Train To Memphis - The Rise of Elvis Presley is the first part of Peter Guralnick's epic, and justly acclaimed, two-volume Elvis biography.  I know that when one is faced with a two-volume biography, about any subject, it is advisable to read the first volume before tackling the second. However, in this instance I tackled the process in 'reverse order', as it were. This situation arose because I have traditionally been more interested in the latter stages of Elvis's life and career than in the beginnings. Either way, I don't think that the order of my reading significantly affected my appreciation the merits of the works. I wrote a review of the second volume Careless Love in an earlier article on this blog.

First of all, it is a delight to read a biography composed by someone who is not only authoritative and enthusiastic about his subject, but who can also write engagingly and fluently. From the outset Guralnick immerses his readers in a sense of time and place. One senses his commitment to evoking the historical and social context of events, but he does not obscure the main narrative by forcing those matters unduly.

Ironically, some of the most affecting passages in the early chapters did not concern Elvis directly, but rather offered an atmospheric and detailed depiction of life in Tupelo and Memphis during the 30s and 40s. One of this book's strengths is the way in which the tale is gradually and credibly unfurled, so that the evolution of Elvis the person and the performer is a continuous and rolling tapestry, and not a series of 'contrivances'. 

There is a vivid and intriguing depiction of the times and the circumstances into which Elvis was born, and in which he grew up. These chapters are characterised by a lot of detail, and the story is told in a more or less chronological format. A reminder that even seemingly mundane matters can be of great interest when sensitively and adroitly addressed.

Guralnick creates endearing portraits of some of the colourful characters who inhabited the Memphis scene during Elvis's youth. The picture of Elvis which emerged for me was of a complex but very human figure who, although gifted and unusual, also possessed idiosyncrasies and insecurities like everyone else. No case is proffered for him being 'superhuman' in any way. 

When reading large parts of this book I detected a mood of cautious optimism and confidence, even among humble folk, in the post-war era, but again this is not overplayed, and there is always the risk of later generations romanticizing something which, to those who were actually there, was nothing out of the ordinary. The author's apparent circumspection in commenting on such matters helps to ensure the book's realism and integrity, in my view.

Learning how Elvis and those around him in those early days navigated their lives and passed through the 'necessary' stages of growth, I was left pondering how much more informal and seamless life's journey appeared to be back then. 

The attention given to examining the psyche of Elvis and his motivations and ethos, particularly from the time before he became famous, is a key ingredient in the quality and value of this biography. Some might view the author's observations on these topics as somewhat nebulous, but this might be because there are no simple answers to most things...

As regards the emergence of the 'youth culture', in which Elvis first immersed himself and then personally helped to intensify, this is documented not by outlandish philosophizing but largely by simple but persuasive prose. The excitement and 'novelty' of the early-to-mid 50s is conveyed without recourse to hyperbole or inflated claims of the period's significance.

One of the themes which struck me was that Elvis was no 'overnight sensation'. His impact is properly illustrated, but we are also reminded that this was a gradual ascent, punctuated by minor setbacks, mis-steps and false dawns. The 'transitional' stage, between the singer's becoming a local celebrity and attaining national stardom, is a fascinating phase, and Guralnick cleverly relates the tension and ferment.

The areas of the book which discuss the processes by which Elvis's management structure came about I found very enlightening, and it may surprise some people as to how Colonel Tom Parker came to be the undisputed boss.

For me the picture was augmented appreciably by the care taken to explore Elvis's musical influences, and the way in which he had direct contact with many prominent Memphis singers and musicians long before he made it big. I was also interested to discover that the author was very sincere and even-handed in assessing the genres and styles which actually constituted the Elvis sound.

I loved the accounts of the recording sessions, both at Sun and RCA. Very atmospheric, and peppered with rich and amusing anecdotes and nuggets of observation concerning Elvis's demeanour and manner, and the reactions which he inspired. 

Another surprising but revealing pattern which I discerned was how calm and resolute Elvis remained at some critical stages, whilst many of those around him were feeling fretful and apprehensive. It seems that he had a vision and a shrewdness which are not always credited to him.

In the chapters covering the time when Elvis had become an international phenomenon, my perception was that he still seemed to be regarded as a 'second class' star, when compared to movie actors and 'pop' singers. A hint, perhaps, that rock n roll was still looked down on, or viewed with suspicion?

Even as early as 1956, one can sense some of the things which came to characterize the decline of Elvis - difficulty in maintaining 'ordinary' relationships, the beginnings of estrangement from a normal existence, and so forth.

I enjoyed reading the insights into the strategic vision of Colonel Tom Parker and others, about how the Presley career was expected to pan out. People sometimes forget how short his first burst of stardom was, and things may already have been changing before he entered the Army. The hysteria which attended the concerts, whilst initially exciting and gratifying, could clearly become wearisome and unedifying.

Even at a relatively early stage, an entourage was starting to build up around Elvis, and the dynamics and comings-and-goings amongst that group form an interesting sub-plot, which would of course assume greater importance later in the star's life.

Towards the end of this book one can feel change closing in, and the mood is very adeptly captured by the author. The perfect scene is starting to unravel. It is also clear what a pivotal event the death of his mother was for Elvis. It also underlined that nothing was going to be the same again.

Last Train To Memphis is a gripping and illuminating read. Both this volume and its 'sequel' Careless Love are very much recommended.