According to Quentin Tarantino, the world is divided into those who like Elvis and those who like the Beatles. As the 30th anniversary of Mr Presley's death approaches, I feel compelled to suggest a simpler dichotomy. The difference between Elvis fans and the rest of us is that the rest of us have taste. The 600,000 pilgrims who flock to Graceland each year are sadder than misery itself. They deserve help, not indulgence.
It is not enough to acknowledge that, by the end, he was a bloated jelly of paranoia, fuelled by drugs and surrounded by sycophants. Behind that view lurks the implication that, while still handsome, Mr Presley deserved to be taken seriously. He did not. Nor do the poor dupes who enrich an Elvis-industry that looms over them with all the elegance of their king on his final visit to the bathroom.
Elvis was no genius. He was a lad with a tremendous voice who found himself packaged and sold in the way thousands of slow-witted pop poppets have been ever since. It is risible to even mention him in the same sentence as John Lennon and Paul McCartney. He wrote hardly any original music and performed some appalling, lachrymose tripe. Better comparisons include Jason Donovan, Bros and Britney Spears.
Disciples of the First Presleyterian Church of Elvis the Divine disagree, often violently, (words not being their strong suit) but the broadly sane should have no residual reverence for Elvis. He was a performer whose youthful releases coincided with Britain's emergence from wartime austerity. People of my parent's generation met members of the opposite sex while dancing to his singles. They are entitled to their nostalgia. The rest of us should grow up.
Elvis was what Americans call trailer trash, in our terms a "chav", before the term was invented. Instead of aspiring through education he made a career out of sullen, posturing ignorance. His fans have often made the same mistake. Small wonder they appreciate the lyrics, which are the literary equivalent of tumbler-dryer instructions.
Affection for Elvis is a workable predictor of anti-intellectual attitude. As one academic paper demonstrated in the 1970s, Beatles fans are much more likely to have experienced university education. They are also less likely to be psychologically insecure.
Elvis is a popular entertainer for the lowest of low-brow tastes. Once per year a quick blast of his early rock'n'roll can be fun, but listening for more than 10 minutes is agonising. He lacks the imagination to stimulate a mature mind. This is music for the emotionally adolescent, product of a world view too narrow to admit higher emotions or even recognise they exist.
The only credible claim that can be made on Elvis Presley's behalf is that he helped introduce blues influences to a mass audience. But in a less bigoted era that would have been accomplished by authentic blues musicians. They expressed real emotions, despite origins at least as disadvantaged as his. But the world was not ready for their genius. It preferred to celebrate a dimwit instead.