Elvis Presley's songs: Ranking the King's 40 best hits

Forty years after his death, Elvis Presley remains a global icon. As the years pass, it’s perhaps too easy for Elvis’ image to obscure his artistry. In Memphis, especially, Elvis the revolutionary artist, the “sing all kinds” boundary smasher and the versatile vocalist shouldn’t be forgotten. To celebrate his music, here are our picks for his 40 greatest recordings:

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1. “That’s All Right” (1954):

Originally written and recorded by Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup in 1946, this is Elvis’ first single, recorded at Sun Studio on July 5, 1954. It’s nothing more than “the great wedding ceremony,” the product of four men messing around in a small room on Union Avenue and remaking global culture. And while you can argue whether Elvis was the first to blend pre-existing styles into this new thing called rock 'n' roll, his synthesis of country and blues here sounds more effortless and more complete than any of his contemporaries, or his inheritors. It clocks in at under two minutes and sounds so simple, so inevitable now. But its grace still startles. — Chris Herrington

2. “Mystery Train” (1955):

A 1953 number recorded by bluesman Junior Parker and the Blue Flames, and produced by Sam Phillips for Sun Records. Elvis reinvented it in the same room two years later for his final Sun single, imbuing the song with a deeper Americana. The song’s first line, “Train I ride, sixteen coaches long … ,” had turned up in tunes by the Carter Family and Leadbelly, among others. Elvis’ rendition — faster and somehow more haunting than Parker’s original — augured big changes. — Bob Mehr

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3. “Hound Dog” (1956):

“Hound Dog” was first recorded by Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton and was a No. 1 rhythm & blues hit in 1953. But the song is synonymous with Elvis, whose version sold 10 million copies and spent 11 weeks atop the pop chart. Thornton stood something like 10 feet tall and could drop whole armies with a stare; when she sang a song, it stayed sung. But don’t buy the myth that her original was superior to Elvis’ cover. Essentially acting as his own producer, he swapped out words, souped up the tempo and created, as cultural critic Greil Marcus wrote, “a sound for which no one was prepared.” Little wonder it topped the pop, R&B and country charts simultaneously. — David Williams

4. “Don’t Be Cruel” (1956):

This Otis Blackwell-penned song was the other side of the same 45 as “Hound Dog.” With Bill Black and D.J. Fontana popping from the jump and the Jordanaires having perhaps their finest backup vocal moment, “Don’t Be Cruel” positively swings before Elvis really gets ahold of it. But when he does, it’s as easeful a vocal as he ever recorded. At his best, Elvis sang like genius athletes often play, with casual command and self-aware delight. That “mmmmm” transition from the second to the third verse and the faint chuckle as he comes out it? The in-song equivalent of Marc Gasol (himself an Elvis fan) giving himself a little slap on the butt during a game. (CH)

5. “Heartbreak Hotel” (1956):

Elvis’ first single for RCA was the big one, the song that really introduced him to the world. “Heartbreak Hotel” is utterly distinctive, not at all a harbinger of Hound Dogs and Teddy Bears; instead, it’s a noirish environmental portrait inspired by a real-life suicide, an evocation of “gloom” populated by “broken-hearted lovers,” a crying bellhop, a dress clerk “dressed in black” — people so lonely “they could die,” including the singer himself. Steve Sholes’ production — from Floyd Cramer’s cocktail lounge piano to Chet Atkins’ guitar to Bill Black’s tiptoe bass line, creeping like Peter Lorre past a corpse in the lobby — is night-dark perfection. — John Beifuss

6. “Suspicious Minds” (1969):

It can be difficult to reconcile for those of us who still delight in Elvis’ Sun sides, but sometimes modern ears struggle to hear that music clearly, as more than a time capsule. Not so on “Suspicious Minds,” which is Elvis’ most modern hit. It sounds more contemporary, even, than the remixed “A Little Less Conversation,” which came more than 30 years later. Elvis built his legend fusing country, blues and gospel — you know, helping create rock 'n' roll — but this tempest of longing and recrimination (first line: “We’re caught in a trap”) is a grown-up soul music all his own. You want an Elvis song a room of people are most likely to respond to today, free of irony? This is it. (CH)

7. “Good Rockin’ Tonight” (1954):

Elvis’ second Sun single. The original version, by Roy Brown, is good, the Wynonie Harris version better. But they both sound like guys getting ready for a good time they’ve had plenty of times before. Only 19, Elvis sings it with more shock, and more delight. With Bill Black’s thumping acoustic bass and Scotty Moore’s country guitar replacing the horn-based jump blues sound, the Sun Records remake is more rural, hinting at wild things happening in the woods. Elvis testifies like the town crier of the rock 'n' roll revolution — “We’re gonna rock all our blues away” is a generational promise — calling everyone to the show, even if he, himself, was the show. (CH)

8. “Blue Moon of Kentucky” (1954):

Originally recorded as a waltz in 1947 by bluegrass pioneer Bill Monroe, the song was a familiar hit in the South. Seven years later, at the suggestion of bassist Bill Black, Elvis would cut it himself, tarting up the tune with a hiccupy blues-pop reading during his famed July 1954 session at Sun (the same one that yielded “That’s All Right”), thus earning his sobriquet as the “Hillbilly Cat.” (BM)

9. “Blue Moon” (1956):

Filmmaker Jim Jarmusch named his Memphis movie “Mystery Train,” but it was this Sun recording he used as a connecting thread among the film’s four portraits of lost souls on one Memphis night. Elvis’ singing is the most ethereal of his career and, though it’s a ballad, a standard even, maybe the wildest. He sings like a spirit. Here’s the ghost of Elvis, more than 20 years before his actual death. It’s the oddest recording on this list, maybe the oddest — in a good way — in the Elvis canon. Rather than timeless, it sounds out of time. (CH)

10. “Stranger in My Own Hometown” (1969):

Elvis’ hometown “comeback” sessions at American are richly represented on this list. “Stranger in My Own Hometown” isn’t the highest-ranking record from that period or, certainly, the most familiar. But though it was passed over for inclusion on “From Elvis in Memphis,” it captures the essential meaning of that session — and of that moment in Elvis’ career. Percy Mayfield’s original version is a fine record, but Elvis, finally unleashed, blows it away, with power, desperation and, crucially, a self-aware black humor culled from his own artistic exile to Hollywood and transformative return to a city whose music scene had evolved just fine in his absence. Here the King, not his hit-making producer and ace session band, has something to prove. (CH)

11. “One Night” (1957):

A month before recording the released version of “One Night,” Presley and the band cut a more faithful cover of Smiley Lewis’ 1956 R&B hit, “One Night (of Sin)”; when Elvis’ publishing company balked at the unmistakable intent of the title, a more radio-friendly rewrite was ordered. Purists and bad boys may demur, but in the case of Presley’s performances, the bowdlerized version is superior to Elvis’ earlier take (which remained unreleased until 1983). “One night of sin/ Is what I’m now paying for,” sang Lewis, and later, Elvis; the rewrite changes the opening to: “One night with you/ Is what I’m now praying for.” This is more than an edit: What was intended, for all its salaciousness, as a caution against the wages of “sin” becomes an affirmation of love (physical and otherwise) — something you can pray for, without shame. And Elvis’ exuberant, bluesy performance embraces its full promise. (JB)

12. “Baby Let’s Play House” (1955):

The fourth of Elvis’ Sun singles, “Baby, Let’s Play House” was the first to chart — a No. 5 country single in a year when Webb Pierce was the man. In the original from just a few months before, Nashville-born R&B man Arthur Gunter sang “You may go to college/ May go to school/ You may get religion/ Baby, don’t you be nobody’s fool.” Elvis changed “religion” to “a pink Cadillac” and goosed the tempo to a bank heist getaway pace. The result may be the wildest good time ever had on record, by anybody. Elvis whoops, stutters, wails and hiccups — and late in the song, somewhere around the 43rd “baby” — seems about to bust out laughing before he catches himself. It’s the only restraint in the whole thing. Mercy. (DW)

13. “All Shook Up” (1957):

“All Shook Up” is a title begging for a song, and songwriter Otis Blackwell (who also penned “Don’t Be Cruel”) crafted one worthy of the phrase. It’s an irresistible composition made more so by some of Elvis’ most irresistible pure-pop singing, ending verses — “My heart beats so it scares me to death,” “That’s to have that girl that I love so fine” — with vocal flourishes that take flight. (CH)

14. “Milkcow Blues Boogie” (1955):

You could debate which Elvis record to put in a time capsule and shoot into outer space, to explain the Presley phenomenon to whatever life forms reside in the vast cosmos. But you could melt down a 45 rpm copy of Sun Records No. 215 and use it as rocket fuel. “Hold it, fellas,” Elvis says to Scotty and Bill, seconds into the song. “That don’t move me. Let’s get real, real gone for a change.” “Milkcow Blues Boogie” is Elvis unhinged. It’s rockabilly on a bender, with falsetto cries, barnyard double entendre and some moments of true vocal menace. (DW)

15. “Jailhouse Rock” (1957):

There are half a dozen songs from the songwriting team of Leiber & Stoller on this list, but this is the only one as mischievous as their best titles for R&B vocal group The Coasters, putting love song convention into a (male only) prison setting: “Number 47 said to number 3/ You’re the cutest jailbird I ever did see.” Elvis rips into the lyric without hesitation, but this is also perhaps the freest, heaviest movie music he ever made. The thundering power chords set a tone, while D.J. Fontana’s drumming is, in the words of rock critic Dave Marsh, “halfway between strip joint rhumba and the perfect New Orleans shuffle.” Elvis cuts so loose that he’s overcome, his “rockrockrock” at the song’s midpoint descending into babble that only Scotty Moore’s guitar can put back together. All hands on deck. If you can’t find a partner use a wooden chair. (CH)

16. “Trying to Get to You” (1955):

In comparison to some of Elvis’ raw or “hillbilly” Sun recordings, “Trying to Get to You” sounds unusually sophisticated — so much so that it was among the Sun releases included on his debut RCA album in 1956, alongside songs cut in Nashville and New York with A-list session aces. “I’ve been traveling over mountains/ Even through the valleys, too,” reports the song’s narrator, detailing his efforts to reunite with his baby, “in spite of all that I’ve been through.” Like some sort of sidekick or wingman, Scotty Moore’s chatty guitar reinforces each of Elvis’ lines, as if to reassure the listener of the singer’s sincerity — not that any additional affirmation is needed when Elvis’ vocals are this assured and resourceful. (JB)

17. “Wearin’ That Loved On Look” (1969):

This is Elvis music for grown folk — a naughty tragicomedy that might be heard on WDIA’s “All Blues Saturday,” if only it had been covered by Marvin Sease or Theodis Ealey. The narrative presents the King as cuckold, as Elvis returns home from an out-of-town trip to discover such evidence of party-hearty “carrying on” as ash trays “all full of ashes”; an apparently too-stoned-to-leave “man downstairs with long bushy hair”; and, worst of all, his “baby,” who is (cue the title lyric). Also, this is Elvis soul music: The emphatic backup vocals and the wiggly tease of organist Bobby Emmons’ keyboards keep everything percolating, no matter the post-Summer of Love, late 1960s weariness of the narrator, who seems to be longing for a time when free love wasn’t so free. (JB)

18. “Reconsider Baby” (1960):

As Peter Guralnick notes in his biography “Last Train to Memphis,” a still-teenaged Elvis had seen Lowell Fulson perform “Reconsider Baby” at the Club Handy on Beale in 1954. When he got around to cutting it himself six years later, fresh from the Army, he dug as deeply into the song’s slow-burn sexual swagger as Fulson had. Unlike at Sun, this wasn’t blues reimagined into rock 'n' roll, with quickness, brashness, release. This was just blues, played straight, arguably the best of his life, augmented by Scotty Moore’s razor guitar and Boots Randolph’s dirty saxophone. Here, when Elvis commands “Play the blues, boys, play the blues,” he means it, and he gets what he wants. (CH)

19. “Love Me Tender” (1956):

Arranged for voice and guitar, this simple, tender pledge of devotion (and plea for affection in return) is one of the great love songs, as well as one of Elvis’ signature recordings. It is updated from an old Civil War song for the film of the same title, and the vocals have an innocence, sincerity, directness and vulnerability that may be unmatched in the Elvis catalog. (JB)

20. “Little Sister” (1961):

The rare B-side that has eclipsed its A-side (“His Latest Flame,” see No. 29), “Little Sister” owes its rock 'n' roll immortality primarily to Hank Garland’s guitar riff, a twangy Greek chorus of a G note that adds swampy heat and cheeky punctuation to the lyrics’ tale of a spurned Romeo transferring his horndog affection from a presumably age-appropriate target to a ripening youngster. The result is something of a Southern-fried teen screwball comedy, with Jordanaire Culley Holt adding a mocking froggy bass echo to Elvis’ perfectly modulated vocals during the fade-out that comes all too soon.(JB)

21. “Power of My Love” (1969):

A re-energized and indisputably mature Elvis transforms this uncompromisingly adult sex song into one of the bluesiest and most, yes, powerful performances of his historic 1969 Memphis sessions — it’s an underrated monster fit for a King (or a King Kong). (JB)

22. “A Mess of Blues” (1960):

This B-side to “It’s Now or Never” is a gritty, grinding little R&B number with Elvis recapturing some of his ’50s loucheness — and a nice counterpoint to the A-side’s decidedly melodramatic pop. (BM)

23. “Long Black Limousine” (1969):

The first song recorded at the historic 1969 American Studio sessions, “Long Black Limousine” was a crucial cut on what might be the essential Elvis album, “From Elvis in Memphis.” “Rarely has Elvis sung so passionately in the studio,” wrote biographer Peter Guralnick, “rarely has he revealed himself so nakedly.” Fourteen years after singing about a pink Cadillac in his classic version of “Baby, Let’s Play House,” and just six years removed from the soundtrack clowning of “(There’s) No Room to Rhumba in a Sports Car,” it was as if the joy ride was over. (DW)

24. “Like a Baby” (1960):

Written by R&B artist Jesse Stone and later recorded by James Brown, this slow march through betrayal, regret and self-pity is one of Elvis’ most soulful, disturbed and — never mind the title — sexual recordings. (JB)

25. “Burning Love” (1972): 

“Lord Almighty, I feel my temperature rising,” Elvis sings, responding to the song’s churning — burning — rhythm the way many a listener would. A rocker in a time of (often overwrought) ballads, played and sung with more weight and passion than in the original Arthur Alexander version, this was an update of the original Southern rock 'n' roll sound that didn’t sound creaky or nostalgic. Elvis’ last real hit and, arguably, his last great record. (CH)

26. “Only the Strong Survive” (1969):

The reason Elvis’ faithful version of Jerry Butler’s hit stands as one of his best records rather than a superfluous cover is twofold: The song feels written to order, a pitch-perfect fit for Elvis’ more contemporary, more mature, more soul-influenced new sound. And if Elvis’ take lacks the civil rights subtext of Butler’s, it carries a personal resonance. As a hymn to perseverance in a moment of romantic loss, written in the voice of a son remembering his mother’s advice, “Only the Strong Survive” also fit Elvis’ public narrative and, one imagines, his private self-conception. (CH)

27. “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” (1956):

A 1952 smash for New Orleans’ Lloyd Price, it was redone by Elvis as part of his first burst of work for RCA. Elvis’ version is more playful than pleading. But it's a meaningful reinterpretation nonetheless. Price’s song was one of the first crossover R&B numbers to be embraced widely by white teens — Elvis included — and the song would remain close to Presley throughout his career. (BM)

28. “I’m Left, You’re Right, She’s Gone” (1955):

A lightweight composition, built around some fun wordplay, this Sun-era recording is elevated by Elvis’ jaunty reading and Scotty Moore’s signature dancing guitar lines. (BM)

29. “(Marie’s the Name) His Latest Flame” (1961):

The rockabillified Bo Diddley beat is intense, almost nervous (is that a pounding piano or a heart palpitation?), but Elvis, uncharacteristically, undersells the performance, lending surprising poignancy. (JB)

30. “Kentucky Rain” (1970):

Buoyed by Chips Moman’s atmospheric production touches and tempo shifts, as well as the piano playing of a then-unknown Ronnie Milsap, the track is defined by the vaulting, dramatic vocals that became Presley’s signature during his post-’60s career. (BM)

31. “Love Me” (1956):

“Love Me” may have been the first song to acknowledge the helpless and intense ardor of Elvis’ female fans, indeed to make that the song’s subtext. In Elvis’ hands, Leiber & Stoller’s intended-to-be-wry opening lines (“Treat me like a fool/ Treat me mean and cruel/ But love me”) are instead an invitation for bedlam. (CH)

32. “Guitar Man” (1967): 

Georgia-bred guitarist and songwriter Jerry Reed scored a small country hit with this snappy 1967 number about a musician making his way from Memphis to Macon to Mobile leading a swingin' five-piece band. But the tune would be redone memorably — not once, but twice — by Elvis. (BM)

33. “Tomorrow is a Long Time” (1966):

The King meets The Bard as Elvis cuts a Bob Dylan rarity. It’s a spare and moving piece that makes one wish the King had dug deeper into the Dylan songbook, and more often. (BM)

34. “Blue Christmas” (1957):

Elvis’ contribution to the holidays is as loaded with goodies as a Christmas stocking, from the plunk-a-plunk-plunk of the guitar to the almost doo-wop background vocals of Millie Kirkham and the Jordanaires, which move from high to low pitch like garlands wrapped in waves around a Douglas fir. With a quintessential Elvis vocal performance (“I’ll have a bluuuuue blue-blue-blue Criss-muss,” the singer concludes), this Christmas classic seems to become more ubiquitous every season. (JB)

35. “My Baby Left Me” (1956):

Elvis’ career-launching take on Arthur Crudup’s “That’s All Right” tops our list, but this follow-up dip into the bluesman’s catalog is every bit as energetic if not as epochal as its predecessor. (JB)

36. “Baby What You Want Me to Do” (1968):

Played as part of an “in-the-round” picking session with his pals on the “’68 Comeback” special, Elvis’ cover of the Jimmy Reed blues tune may be among his most joyous performances. Clad in black leather, biting his lip, stomping and sweating his way through the song and several reprises, Elvis’ affection for this dirty groover is palpable, electric and contagious. (BM)

37. “A Little Less Conversation” (1968/2002):

An apparently minor Elvis song when it first appeared, this became Elvis’ most unexpected hit a full generation after his death via a remix by producer Junkie XL, who realized two essential things: The hopped-up rhythm motorvates across eras, and the King has full command over that groovy groove. (CH)

38. “An American Trilogy” (1972):

A medley of 19th-century tunes — the Southern anthem “Dixie,” the African-American connected folk number “All My Trials” and the Union Army’s marching song “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” — in a grandiloquent arrangement would become the centerpiece of Elvis’ concerts. (BM)

39. “True Love Travels on a Gravel Road” (1969):

The King’s gospel-soul reading of this “love over money” ballad matches the vulnerability that Chips Moman’s “Memphis Boys” session players gave it, and it’s among the many standouts from his late ‘60s studio comeback, "From Elvis in Memphis." (BM)

40. “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” (1960):

The tune dates back to the 1920s, but was associated with only one man after Elvis was through with it. Elvis was always as much of a balladeer as a rocker, and this was one of his most successful and most enduring big ballads, his pleading, questioning verses (“Is your heart filled with pain?/ Shall I come back again?”) broken up by a spoken-word bridge that tip-toes along the edge of camp. (CH)