Disgraceland

by Jake Brennan

  Fat Elvis put his head in his hands. He was growing tired of the truth and weary of fighting off the immense pain in his gut. Nevertheless, Skinny Elvis persisted.

  “But look at me, man. I’m you, motherfucker. I’m the real you.”

  His skinny counterpart did a quick karate chop to the hand-towel hanger on the wall. It was so precise that Fat Elvis burned with jealousy from his perch atop his toilet. Skinny Elvis looked at him with an expression that was part pride, part faux apology, as the brass hardware fell to the bathroom tile.

  “I’m what you coulda been. The you that you were too afraid to become. I’m ten feet tall and been fresh outta fucks to give since I left the Louisiana Hayride. Fuck Bo Diddley. I’m just forty-two and I don’t mind dying. I’m a real hunka hunka burnin’ love. I get too close to myself and I catch hellfire ’cuz I’m hot, man. I ain’t never needed no ‘Comeback Special’ ’cuz I ain’t never been gone long enough to hafta come back. Ever since I got out of the Army, I gave up the ghost and told the Colonel we was through. Then I made the ALBUMS I wanted to make. Learned how to write my own songs. Worked with my own producers. I picked my own damn movies to act in and I acted the shit outta them. Motherfucker, I give Brando notes now. And he needs ’em ’cuz he’s fatter than you. I took my shot and I hit it way outta the park. What did Chuck Berry say? ‘Two–three count, nobody on. He hit a high fly into the stands.’ Yeah, me too, and I’m rounded third and headed home ’cuz I’m the brown-eyed handsome man, motherfucker!”

  Fat Elvis wasn’t in awe and he wasn’t amused. Now he was angry. His heart was racing. Rapidly pumping blood through his diseased arteries. Whatever was wrong with his stomach would no longer be ignored. Elvis bore down. Held his breath. Nothing moved. He shot Skinny Elvis a look that said, Please…enough, but Skinny Elvis kept going.

  “Jerry Lee ain’t the only killer. You killed somebody, too: me. This coulda been you. Look at me. I’m the greatest recording artist of all time. And the greatest entertainer. And the greatest songwriter. Greatest singer, too. I open my mouth to sing a song and the earth STOPS. Stevie Wonder calls ME for songwriting advice. I am the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, James Brown, Dean Martin, and Frank Sinatra rolled into one! Kris Kristofferson can’t tune my guitar! You know why? ’Cuz I trapped that beast and I set him free. Maybe if you did the same thing you wouldn’t’a been such an obsequious, pitiful, needy motherfucker. Look at you now. Fat. High. Strung out and miserable. You coulda been Skinny Elvis this whole time. You missed out, but you know what? It ain’t too late. You can be Skinny Elvis forever now, man. You can be me. All you gotta do is give it up. Jesse’s dead, man. Give up the ghost and grab that beast inside of you and let it go.”

  Fat Elvis, the King, was woozy sitting on his throne, the en suite toilet. He tried blocking out Skinny Elvis’s voice, but his last words ran on a loop in Fat Elvis’s head: Give up the ghost and grab that beast inside of you and let it go.

  Elvis tried to do just that. He thought back as far as he could, playing the events of his life in reverse, tracked to the sound of Skinny Elvis’s voice. He saw himself rewinding through two decades of fame and excess. The Colonel’s image faded completely from his memory. Images of his father, Vernon, and his beloved mother, Gladys, became more and more clear in his mind’s eye. Almost hyperreal. He tried remembering back to his infancy to grab an image of his brother. The one he’d always been able to imagine in life; his infant twin, happiness born in the flesh, but now—nothing. There was no image of Jesse, but that twin feeling of happiness was strong. Stronger than the guilt. Stronger than the fear and stronger than the grief ever had been. It overwhelmed him physically, it shortened his breath. He bore down, pushed one last time, and felt his heart shudder to a stop. He felt himself fall off the toilet and his face slam into the cold bathroom floor. Then the King felt nothing. Nothing but free.

  Acknowledgments

  I never ever thought I’d write a book. Nobody did. Except my wife, Gabrielle. Without her constant belief in me, this book wouldn’t have happened. And my sons, Harlan and Willem, who inspire me daily to get up and get after it; they need to be acknowledged, too. Maddie Caldwell, my editor, is directly responsible for this book being in your hands and for it being a way better book than it would have been without her vision. I’m grateful to Pat Healy for his writing assistance and ability to punch up phrases. I also benefited immensely from Pat’s perspective on rock ’n’ roll history and understanding of the characters and context within. Matt Nelson’s amazing illustrations fueled me to create chapters worthy of their accompaniment. Somehow JD McPherson signified the words herein to my attention and I’m afraid of what might happen if I don’t recognize that fact. Words are weird, Man. I would also like to acknowledge the loose group of folks who have supported and encouraged me throughout the writing of this book: the Nugents, the Vinczes, Oren Rosenbaum, Jamie Demas, Byrd Leavell, Sean Cahalin, Grace Royer, Callie Khouri, T-Bone Burnett, Michael Lohmann, Aaron Kaplan, Jake Shapiro, Conal Byrne, Dave Ambrose, Ellen Thibault, Ian Kennedy, Jared Gutstadt, Dennis Quaid, Brady Sadler, Mark Kates, Evan Kenney, Jay Cannava, Jackson Cannon, Dave Walsh, Dan Colby, Nick Palmacci, Taylor Bettinson, Carly Carioli, Chris O’Keeffe, Danny Poulin, Joe Sivick, Adam Weiner, Chris Capotosto, Avi Spivak, Chris Wangro, Tom Perrotta, Eli “Paperboy” Reed, Aaron Mahnke, Steve Wilson, Lauren Osen, James Boggs, Chris Bannon, Scott Janovitz, Greg Conley, Will Dailey, David Ginsburg, Jon Lupfer, Ed Valauskas, Vernon Reid, Barry Tashian, Adam Taylor, Tony Goddess, Michael Creamer, Ryan Walsh, George Christie Jr., Jessie Rogers, Jen DiChiara, Jake Guralnick, Nick Lowe, Paul Q. Kolderie, Joe Gittleman, Phil Kaufman, Bob Pittman, Kirk Minihane, and Robert Christgau and Bob Dylan for agreeing with me.

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  Bibliography

  Fat Elvis and Skinny Elvis

  My portrait of Elvis Presley was pulled into form from various sources. Chief among them, Peter Guralnick’s Last Train to Memphis (Little, Brown, 1994) and HBO’s excellent documentary on Elvis Presley from 2018 entitled, The Searcher, directed by Thom Zimny. Within that film, I found Tom Petty’s thoughts on Colonel Parker and Elvis’s artistry to be particularly compelling. Elvis’s physical condition was sourced in part from a May 2, 2017, Huffington Post article by Garry Rodgers entitled “Elvis Presley’s Death—What Really Happened to the King?” Skinny Elvis’s riff on Andreas Corneilis van Kuijk’s time in the Netherlands is sourced from Alanna Nash’s book, The Extraordinary Story of Colonel Tom Parker and Elvis Presley (Simon & Schuster, 2001) as well as from the February 24, 2012, Smithsonianmag.com article by Mike Dash entitled, “Colonel Parker Managed Elvis’ Career but Was He a Killer on the Lam?” The detailed cheese needed to describe Elvis’s man cave, aka “the Jungle Room,” came from reading the August 8, 2016, Rolling Stone article by Jordan Runtagh entitled, “Inside Elvis Presley’s Legendary Man-Cave Studio” and from listening to RCA Records and Legacy Recordings’ 2016 release of the Elvis Presley compilation of recordings, Way Down in the Jungle Room. Elvis was one king, but when it comes to writing about the hairy underbelly of American culture, Nick Tosches wears his own crown, and I am heavily indebted to him for his Esau Smith device from his excellent book, Unsung Heroes of Rock ’n’ Roll (Da Capo Press, 1984), which inspired me to rethink the death and possible life of Jesse Garon Presley.

  Jerry Lee Lewis

  I first read Richard Ben Cramer’s article “The Strange and Mysterious Death of Mrs. Jerry Lee Lewis” when I was a boy. Probably fifteen years old. And it completely blew my mind. The idea that this rock ’n’ roll icon, a man whose feet John Lennon kissed when he was inducted into the Rock ’n’ Roll Hall of Fame, the idea that he could possibly be a killer and free and revered and oh yeah, his nickname is The Killer!!!–—I just could not believe it. And the story never left me. I told everyone I could about it until eventually it inspi
red me to start a podcast. The article originally appeared in Rolling Stone on March 1, 1984, but I didn’t catch up to it until much later when it appeared in a book of articles published by Rolling Stone. Of course, Nick Tosches’s Hellfire (Grove Press, 1982) greatly influenced my depiction of Jerry Lee, as did Dennis Quaid’s manic and inspired version of the Killer from the 1989 biopic Great Balls of Fire, directed by Jim McBride. Jim Sullivan’s Chicago Tribune article from July 28, 1985, entitled, “Jerry Lee Lewis: The Killer Says the Wild Times Are Behind Him,” and People magazine’s “The Sudden Death of Wife No. 5 Confronts Jerry Lee Lewis with Tragedy––and Troubling Questions” from September 12, 1983, were also sources for this chapter.

  Dead, Euronymous, and Varg

  Lords of Chaos (Feral House, 1998) by Michael Moynihan and Didrik Søderlind is the document on the rise of black metal or, as the authors put it, “the bloody rise of the satanic metal underground.” It is essential reading for anyone interested in the topic. Until the Light Takes Us from 2008, directed by Aaron Aites and Audrey Ewell, was also critical in helping me gain insight into the feel of Norwegian black metal. An article from November 14, 2015, called “Norwegian Black Metal: Satanism, Church Burnings and Murder––What Hath Venom Wrought?” published on the carwreckedbangs blog, was instrumental in helping me piece together the history preceding the rise of black metal. The original Kerrang article, “Has Metal Gone Too Far?” by Jason Arnopp published March 27, 1993, was also a source for this chapter. And for a good dose of modern-day madness I would encourage anyone who was intrigued by this chapter to give Varg Vikernes’s YouTube channel a spin. This wormhole went a long way in helping me understand Count Grishnackh.

  Gram Parsons

  For the Gram Parsons chapter, I heavily relied on 20,000 Roads: The Ballad of Gram Parsons and His Cosmic American Music by David N. Meyer (Villard, 2007). In my opinion it is the most comprehensive take on Gram as both a person and as a musician. The passages on Gram’s time with the Rolling Stones were particularly helpful, as was the Guardian article from April 24, 2010, by Sean O’Hagan entitled, “The Stones and the True Story of Exile on Main St.” Details on the theft of Gram’s body were sourced via the October 25, 1973, Rolling Stone article by Patrick Sullivan entitled, “Gram Parsons: The Mysterious Death—and Aftermath,” as well as the Louder article by Johnny Black entitled, “How I Stole Gram Parsons’ Body,” published on September 19, 2017. Bill Murray––always a north star––and his John Winger character from Stripes, directed by Ivan Reitman (1981), inspired the “dead before I’m thirty” bit. The incredibly talented Barry Tashian, who worked with Gram on his GP album, was super generous with his time in agreeing to talk to me about this part of Gram’s creative life and personal life. Also, I was able to coax Phil Kaufman—the Mangler himself—to settle down long enough to jump on the phone with me, and the Gram chapter is better because of it.

  Axl Rose

  There would likely be no Axl Rose chapter were it not for the book, Watch You Bleed: The Saga of Guns N’ Roses (Gotham, 2008) by the legendary Stephen Davis. It provided a look into all corners of GNR’s history and also into Axl’s upbringing and psyche, and it was critical in helping me piece together this story. (Also, Stephen’s book on Led Zeppelin, Hammer of the Gods [William Morrow, 1985] is about 70 percent responsible for my fascination with the music industry’s dark history.) Daniel Durchholz’s firsthand account of the Riverport Riot in the Riverfront Times from July 10, 1991, entitled, “Appetite for Destruction,” as well as his article from July 26, 2017, in Billboard revisiting the event entitled, “Looking Back at the Riverport Riot as Guns N’ Roses Return to St. Louis for First Show in 26 Years” were both crucial. Brandon Stosuy’s December 12, 2008, Stereogum article, “Axl Rose on Chinese Democracy, Bipolarity, Running Late & Kanye West,” and Rolling Stone’s “50 Wildest Guns N’ Roses Moments” by Katherine Love, Wallace Morgan, Joseph Hudak, Keith Harris, Maura Johnston, and Dan Epstein were also sourced for his chapter as was GQ’s January 13, 2016, article by Jeff Vrabel entitled, “Remember When Axl Rose Was Left Completely Unchecked During the Use Your Illusion Era?” Finally, Rob Tannenbaum’s eye-opening Rolling Stone piece from November 17, 1988, the article that introduced us to Guns N’ Roses entitled, “The Hard Truth About Guns N’ Roses,” was a blast to revisit and an important source in helping me understand the makeup of Axl Rose and his bandmates during their initial rise to rock dominance. Vernon Reid of Living Colour was cooler than my fifteen-year-old self could have hoped for and beyond generous in answering my questions about Axl’s time in the media barrel after the “One in a Million” lyric controversy.

  Chuck Berry

  Chuck Berry is/was many things. Something he doesn’t get enough credit for is his way with words. Too often we focus on his guitar playing, and for good reason, but that is at the expense of his other gift: writing. Chuck Berry, in my mind, is America’s great poet. We hear the proof of that statement in his genre-defining early rock ’n’ roll singles. But Chuck was also a great writer. Full stop. As I discovered in reading his book, Chuck Berry: The Autobiography (Harmony Books, 1987). At times the book is beautiful, enthralling, and sometimes damning (as you read in the quote I chose from the book at my chapter’s end). Mike Sagar’s “Sex, Drugs and Rock ’N’ Roll Especially Sex,” from the February 1993 issue of Spy, was a wild read and particularly compelling as a source. Other articles sourced for this chapter include: “The Story of Chuck Berry’s ‘Maybellene’” by Jesse Wegman, published by NPR (July 2, 2000); “The Chuck Berry I Knew” by Joe Edwards as told to Chad Garrison, published by St. Louis Mag (March 19, 2017); “Why Can’t We Be Honest About Chuck Berry?” by Andy Marino published by the Outline (March 20, 2017); “Chuck Berry Taped Women, Suit Charges” by Ralph Dummit, published by the St. Louis Dispatch (December 27, 1989); “The Perversions of Chuck Berry,” from Bob Guccione’s Archives, published by VICE (September 12, 2013); “Chuck Berry Was More Than a Rock Icon—He Was Also a Huge Pervert” by Bruce Golding for the New York Post (March 21, 2017). And finally, and perhaps most interesting of all, the September 1980 article from issue #7 of the local St. Louis punk rock ’zine, Jet Lag simply entitled, “Chuck Berry,” where the father of rock ’n’ roll himself, Chuck Berry, reviews records by the Sex Pistols, the Clash, and more. It was perhaps the most interesting piece of rock criticism I’ve ever encountered and was wholly responsible for creating a direct link between the Chuck Berry chapter and the Sid Vicious chapter.

  Sid Vicious

  The Alan G. Parker–directed Who Killed Nancy from 2009 was particularly compelling, as was the Telegraph’s June 23, 2016, article by the Telegraph reporters entitled, “It Was Sid Vicious’ Mum Who Gave Him Fatal Dose of Heroin Says Sex Pistols Photographer” for the Sid Vicious chapter. Additionally, Deborah Spungen’s heartbreaking book about her daughter and Sid, And I Don’t Want to Live This Life (Fawcett Crest, 1984) and Noel Monk’s wild tour diary book, 12 Days on the Road (Morrow, 1990) were crucial sources for this chapter. The following works were also informative in piecing together Sid’s brief twenty-one years: the timeline on the website SidViciousLives.com; Thurston Moore’s magical recounting of seeing Sid play at Max’s Kansas City in New York magazine’s “Greatest New York Ever: The Encyclopedia of Superlatives” (January 9, 2011); Charlotte Robinson’s PopMatters article, “So Tough: The Boy Behind the Sid Vicious Myth” (June 14, 2006); “After 30 Years, a New Take on Sid, Nancy and a Punk Rock Mystery,” written by Mark Brown and published by the Guardian on January 19, 2009; The Filth and the Fury, directed by Julien Temple (2000); The Great Rock ’n’ Roll Swindle, also directed by Julien Temple (1980); Paul “Stan” Griffin’s Sid Vicious: Final 24—His Final Hours (2008); as well as the multiple Sid and Nancy nodding-off clips on YouTube.

  Sam Cooke

  Once again Peter Guralnick’s tremendous work Dream Boogie: The Triumph of Sam Cooke (Back Bay Books, 2005) was instrumental as a source for another one of my chapters. “Shooting of Sam Coo
ke Held ‘Justifiable Homicide’” published in the New York Times on December 17, 1964, and “The Mysterious Death of Sam Cooke,” written by Lydia Hutchinson and published in Performing Songwriter on December 11, 2016, were also used as sources for this chapter. Finally, perspective into Sam’s death and insight into the postwar/midcentury gospel scene was generously provided by the human soul encyclopedia, Eli “Paperboy” Reed.

  Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes

  I fell in love with Lisa Lopes while writing about her in this chapter. Her badassery is rivaled only by Bertha Lee Franklin from the previous chapter on Sam Cooke, and it is all on display in VH1 RockDocs’ The Last Days of Left Eye from 2007, which was the main source for this chapter. Additionally Rolling Stone’s “Life of Fiery Rapper Lisa Lopes Tragically Cut Short” by David Keeps, published on June 6, 2002; and “Lisa Lopes, Rapper, Dies in Honduras Crash at 30” by Jon Pareles, from the April 27, 2002, issue of the New York Times.