Dear Elvis: We love you. You are the crown prince of geeks the world over, a shining example to funny and funny-looking folks everywhere, and anyone with compromised vision can thank you for keeping plastic horn-rimmed glasses in stock and in style. You’ve written so many great songs, both smart and jumpy punk, and perfect, unforgettable pop. But your music, lately? It’s time to level with you: The lounge act has grown stale. Why are you putting out yet another smooth piano jazz album? Aren’t you done with that yet? Is this what happens when you marry Diana Krall? No offense–we wish you endless bliss together. But she’s so much better at the slinky, chic jazz thing, let her do that by herself. And you? Elvis, you belong in a stinky bar, spazzing out onstage in front of a loud, unruly band. See you there soon, OK?
Leave a Reply