The recent release of the new biopic about the life of Elvis Presley, featuring the amazing skills of Austin Butler, has stirred not only my interest in the star, once again, but also has prompted me to look at his impact on my own life.

It would be a lie to say that he had not played any major role in my childhood or high school days, let alone my present early-college years. For context, I was born in 2003. That’s about twenty-five years years after Elvis passed away. Twenty-five years between his last breath and my first. And yet, despite that fact, his life and his music have connected to my own in ways that I hadn’t thought of before.

For those who are new to the King, here’s a little background: Elvis Aaron Presley, born January 8th, 1935, was one of the first superstars of the Rock n’ Roll music genre. You’ve probably heard him a few times by now, with his soulful baritone voice, especially if you enjoy vinyl or music from the 1950s through the 1970s. If not that, then you might’ve seen one of the thousands of Elvis impersonators from across the world, all united in their love for the iconic moves and sound that he had. Understandably, the younger one is, the less likely it is that you’ll know who he was (and for those who fall into this category, I highly recommend a quick trip to YouTube).

I, luckily, am not unfamiliar with Mr. Presley’s body of work. From an early age my siblings and I were exposed to the likes of Queen, Aretha Franklin, James Brown, Bruce Springsteen, and Little Richard. Our trips to the store or park were filled with music, with either my three siblings and I howling along to “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” by Jim Croce in the backseat or trying hard to contain our giggles while singing to the Blues Brothers’s rendition of “Rubber Biscuit.” Out of all of them though, Elvis was always one of the big hitters.

Elvis has appeared in my life in many ways. My Dad shares the same birthday as Elvis, a fact he reminds us of whenever the subject is mentioned. My Nana told me once how she remembered seeing him shimmy on television, and the hysteria that his gyrating hips created. My Dziad Dziad and Diti gave me my first Elvis vinyl; a little radio station 45. My Grandpa taught me the song “Hound Dog,” and my other grandparents laughed whenever I sang along to his songs, as I know quite a few of them word-for-word (or maybe I’m just a funny singer).

So suffice to say, I’m familiar with Elvis.

It wasn’t until I was in high school that I began to develop my appreciation for his music. When you’re young you often take music at face-value - essentially boiling the experience down to “does it sound good?” As I entered into the wonderfully chaotic teenage years, I found solace in music, for I could let myself drift off into a world of emotion, conveyed through sound. I entered high school with an arsenal of classic rock, pop, and some blues. And as much as I learned, in terms of new music, there were plenty of things that did not change, like my love for Elvis.       

Have you ever sat in the dark quiet of the night, longing for a comforting embrace, with tears in your eyes as the opening piano notes of “Unchained Melody” trickle into your ears? Have you ever found comfort in a voice, so broken yet still powerful and alive? Or felt the pain of loss for a man you’ll never meet, who died before you were born?

When I first saw the new film, “Elvis”, in the theatre, I went in with as much excitement and anticipation as those teenagers who saw him live in the fifties and sixties. I had been waiting for months following the release of the first trailers, excited that Elvis was receiving the same treatment as Freddie Mercury, Elton John, Johnny Cash, and Brian Wilson. But there were two moments in particular, out of many, in the film that seemed to grab me by my shirt collar and rattle my heart.

Now, there are some spoilers up ahead, so skip the next four-ish paragraphs if you don’t want to risk it. (You’ve been warned, and I have tried.)

The first was the filming of his ‘68 Comeback Special, or more specifically, the reason why he decided to record “If I Can Dream.” The shock of the assassinations of both Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy Sr. had shaken the country, and Elvis was no exception. In a move that has been cemented as one of his greatest performances, he decided to end his television special with a song written in both tribute to the two leaders and in hope of letting his own thoughts be known.

This scene touched me deeply because it mirrors our present times. Our world is still divided, our country is split and embittered. There is still violence, and in a world where everything is constantly moving and changing, it feels like there is no way out - no “better future.” I never knew that the song was Elvis’s letter to the world, expressing his sadness at the cruel events of his time. I had turned to that video, white suit and all, during my dark days while I was in high school. It felt, as the cliché goes, like someone understood me - he understood me and put it into song.

The second moment was, and arguably is the more important of the two, the final closing shot. As it transitions from Austin Butler as Elvis, singing the famous opening lines of “Unchained Melody”, to the actual footage of Elvis himself, pouring his heart into what would be one of his last performances (and his last television special).

Oh, how I cried when I saw him. Didn’t matter that my sisters were beside me, or that we were surrounded by people who probably saw the man during his time. I cried, albeit quietly, at the sight in the theatre.

“Unchained Melody,” written for a movie in 1955 and made famous by The Righteous Brothers, is quite possibly one of the most well-beloved songs produced from this period in music history. Elvis, who was merely months away from the end, poured his heart into his performance. It is impossible for me to not say that “Unchained Melody”, especially the King’s performance, does not rank in my books. It is well within my top five songs, if not my absolute favorite. It is a song that carries the weight of loss and love - of hope and heartbreak.

Like Elvis, like many people actually, I struggled and continue to struggle in life. While I write this I consider myself lucky, for I’ve kept a daily journal for the past four, almost five, years, and a scattered collection of journals for the last decade. So know it to be no exaggeration when I say that Elvis has played such a prominent role in my life. Of course, interests change, especially in this age of fast-paced internet and content creation. But some things will always stay the same.

Like Elvis.

I know that this has been a bit of a wandering and starry-eyed story, but it's something I’ve wanted to share, and I thank you for reading. I hope that you take a little time to put on one of his songs and give him your ear for a little while. Let him sing to you like he does for me.

Because even in a life where he is not here with us anymore, he’s never truly gone.