#The Mid South Coliseum

[ringthedamnbell]

Fact Cat: Useless Pro Wrestling Facts, Stats and Trivia

Hello all! Here we go again! Another robust round of facts, stats and other useless knowledge of the business of professional wrestling.

Brian Damage Hello all! Here we go again! Another robust round of facts, stats and other useless knowledge of the business of professional wrestling. Some of these facts you may be well aware of and some maybe not so much. In either case, they are just meant to be fun and educate just a smidge. So let’s go and learn a little something… Continue reading Fact Cat: Useless Pro Wrestling Facts,…

[thewildbelladonna]

The Wild Heart Tour, Mid South Coliseum, Memphis, Tennessee, September 4th, 1983.

More: X

[coolteee-store]

Mid-south Coliseum Shirt

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[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on April 20, 1974 - Queen Story!

Memphis, TN, USA, Mid-South Coliseum

'Queen II Tour'

📸 Photo by © Bob Gruen

[be-my-ally]

"...Elvis has left for Graceland."

This is, uh, what I did with some *generally helpful information* about mirrors in Graceland (although tbh there's not even that many references to them here) and bde withdrawals. I lied - I thought my empty promises wip would be out first, but when inspiration hits and a shorter fic just pops out of your fingers - and the alternative is the dreaded editing, you end up with this instead! Enjoy my lovelies - this is also a little (ok a lot) for @thatbanditqueen - enjoy the references to red Graceland, the correct suit for the exact date, and even his exact upper of choice in spring summer ’74! Oh! and the dress pictured below is YSL from 1973 xx (and also @ellie-24, and @whositmcwhatsit for encouraging me! Surprise! We were discussing films and I was writing this!)

summary: you’re elvis’ girlfriend circa ’74, and have a lot of fun congratulating him after his recorded show in Memphis. 

pairing: afab!reader x elvis (of the big daddy flavour)

warnings: 18+, thigh-riding, the ripping of an expensive rental dress, big daddy elvis in all his big daddy-ness, yet again - reader sucks his tits idk man I didn’t think was gonna be a kink for me but clearly it is, v. minor references to his drug abuse, p in v sex, uhhhh…. Oh mirrors! I know Graceland wasn’t as, uh, dirty as Hillcrest but I think he still had enough fun there, Elvis keeps his jumpsuit on. this is essentially unedited so pls ignore any typos - I'll give it a look over in the morning!

wc: 4.1k - We did it baby! Concise smut!!

March 20th 1974 - Mid-South Coliseum Memphis

“…Elvis has left for Graceland.” 

You’re delayed in leaving - a problem with the valet, or the sound, or something that someone has to sort out - so despite the fact that Elvis himself has left you are stood, waiting, with a couple of the mafia boys for the other car to be brought around. Undoubtedly to be stuck in the hordes of fans and traffic on the way out. You hated being stood exposed like this, it made you feel like people’s wandering glances weren’t just sizing up the King’s new girlfriend, but laughing at you - at how you’re no more special than the rest of them. Stood in much the same way they all were. Left behind while he was whisked away to his palace. 

The temperature had dropped since you’d arrived here earlier, and you wished you’d thought to bring a jacket but the weather was just starting to warm up and you’d been thrilled to be able to wear a little strappy number - a little part of you, or maybe a large part, wanting to show off a little for the home crowd. Silver and diamanté straps that held up the draping gently twisted fabric that flowed in a column, brushing your curves - it was, expensive and flashy in a subtle way - it was almost too much for the concert. But, as always, you’d been outshined by Elvis’ own crystals - the stark white of his sparkling jumpsuit brighter than any of the stage lights. You’d worn it mostly for him though, despite the fact that he’d barely glanced at you in it.

By the time you’re all loaded into the car, heading the barely ten miles towards Graceland, the novelty of passing down Elvis Presley Boulevard from an Elvis Presley concert to go and see Elvis Presley still hadn’t waned. You smile a little at yourself and you can feel Charlie laughing from the other side of the backseat of the car, “God makes me laugh every time I see that damn sign - as if he needed a bigger head!” You laugh with him, but you can hear the affection in his voice - as if you were being let in to a joke of the inner circle; the joke about his large head being simultaneously true but also at odds with his nerves mere hours ago. Despite your traffic fears you make quick progress and it’s mere minutes before you’re pulling up to the drive, parting the crowd and through the gates. You’re quick out of the car but you’re surprised not to see or hear him when you walk through the front door, until Billy, coming around the corner, sees you and points upstairs. You nod and thank him but, not seeing the point in rushing if he’d gone to bed, you head to the kitchen - fetching a drink and take your time finishing it. You start to slowly make your way up the main staircase, stopping to check yourself out in the large mirror on the wall, reapplying a little lipstick just in case he was awake. 

When you walk in, he’s pacing at the bottom of his bed, still in the sweaty white jumpsuit, walking back and forth, he gestures past his padded doors, towards the landing and the huge mirrors he’d recently had installed on the ceiling to match those on the walls. “Saw you take your time, something more important than me baby?” You frown, shaking your head - you forget, when at Graceland, that his eyes are everywhere; even as much as in Hillcrest. 

“Course not babe, of course not!” He tuts, but you’d not been expected him to look so awake so you hadn’t thought you’d had to rush up to him; despite your desire to see him, and congratulate him on the show. So you have no words to your defence - you can’t exactly tell him you expected he’d be half out of it by now. You glance over at the gold foiled nightstand on his side - the orange bottle for his dexedrine open and on display. He follows your gaze, his own eyes hardening a little, tiny little lines forming on the edge of his still-linered lids. Neither of you mention his sudden burst of energy and where it came from. He turns back to you, hands on his hips. It draws your attention to his outfit. He’d not even changed from his stage jumpsuit - a rarity since he was almost always in his robe by the time he’d passed through his bedroom doors. It strangely matches well in the dark, red, interior of the room - red crystals of the fire suit almost the exact colour of the carpet. But it also, oddly, made him stand out even more - the crystals seeming like they were everywhere, like he was made to be stood in this room; reflecting across the mirrors, and emphasising the white of the jumpsuit - his skin jumping out. The zipper was low, as it had been all night and you rake your eyes over his exposed skin. He’d been exceptionally physical tonight, the showmanship spectacular and it was displayed in his chest and stomach shimmering with his still drying sweat. You feel yourself growing wet. 

“Shut the door honey,” You do as you’re told, he’s gruff, almost as if he feels he should be apologetic but would never admit it, “Not had time lately have we, huh, baby?” You shake your head in response, uncertain what to say -  you hadn’t, he’d been so busy worrying about these concerts, and then afterwards about the live recording - about the intricacies of the sound, of how the crowd noise will be isolated. It meant that as excited as you were to see him perform in Memphis, in his home - you were more excited to get past it to the month long break he was going to have. But you also knew how privileged you were to get any time with him at all, and you knew how quickly his moods changed lately. Unwilling to say anything that might make him reconsider his plans and head back downstairs, leave you alone, waiting and wanting while he entertained. 

“Well. We’re here now.” He moves over to you, determinedly catching you in a kiss. You squirm a little, eyes closed, trying to will away the thought that you weren’t the only woman he’d kissed this evening, force away the images of him with the girls in the front row. There was fewer than normal, chaste pecks on the cheek - he didn’t want to mess up the recording after all. But still, you’d felt the envy growing in you, jealousy burning through your veins. He makes you forget this though, as he rubs his hands down your arms, warming where they’d already grown cold in the frigid air of his bedroom and his tongue slips deeper into you. You can taste the gatorade of the night, mixed with the sparkling water he’d probably downed along with his uppers - the faint tingle of the carbon dioxide still present. He kisses down your cheek to your throat, leaving traces of your freshly applied lipstick from your own lips before he turns you around, facing the headboard, and walks you towards the bed - your legs bump against the end. He tugs at the straps that cross on your back, impatient. You wince, trying to stop him; 

“Elvis, baby, it’s a - a rental, gotta be careful, it’s one of a kind -“ 

“Fuckin’ fancy shit - get it off then, fuckin’ hate when you don’t just let me buy you -”  Despite his harsh words he kisses across your shoulder in between his words. You cut him off, 

“It’s not for sale El, so you couldn’t have even -“ 

“You tellin’ me what I can or can’t do now mama?” He toys with the strap, you think fast trying to stop what you’re sure is coming - 

“El, seriously - I didn’t mean it like that I just - ah!” He pulls the chain clean off - square crystals spilling over the bed. 

“Fuck - E!” He yanks the other one, this time accompanied by a little tearing noise as the seam rips from the back. Before you have time to protest any longer he’s pushing down the twisted top, your breasts popping out. He grabs your chin, pointing it towards the back of the bed - where the large mirror hangs - you can see yourself reflecting from the mirrors on the other walls too - the glances of different angles almost overwhelming. 

“Look at yourself.” He maintains his grip on your chin while palming one of his simultaneously thick but still sleek hands across your boob. He twists a nipple as you gasp, pulling it out a little. He pushes you up with his other hand, forcing you to balance on your knees on the end the bed, his own thigh coming in between to force them further apart and support some of your weight as you sink down a little. He hikes the long length of the dress up, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to hold it up yourself although the maxi-skirt still drapes and covers your modesty. He lets go of your face, pulling you back against him harder with both hands, and his stomach, more pronounced than before, bumps against your back. You stare, mouth open, as you watch his large hands span across your waist. His head is bent over into the crook of your neck, sucking a bruise onto the dip of your collarbone, his sweaty, fluffy, hair tickling your chin. He moves his leg a little, bending his knee onto the bed too, forcing it further into your crotch, allowing you to grind down on him. 

He pushes you down himself, hands on your hip bones and the soft flesh there, moving you in little circles feeling you rub against him. He suddenly, frantically, pushes the dress up further - exposing you entirely. You gasp, as he unveils your little secret of the night - not only had you not bothered with a bra - the dress being far too revealing for it, but the soft slippy fabric had clung to whatever underwear you had tried, ultimately leaving you to go commando for the night as well. He grunts against your skin, looking at you in the mirror over your shoulder, 

“You been like that all night, honey?” He traces a finger over the undercurve of the swell of your tummy, tickling a little, as he rotates it in little circles - teasing you in its pattern that’s reminiscent of how he often touches you. 

“Ye-es, they - they showed through,” He tucks your ass into him, his belt digging into you, and preoccupies himself with stroking a finger the length of your vulva, his thigh slightly getting in the way until you push yourself up a little more. 

“Surprised you ain’t already ruined that dress, how wet you are - bet you were drippin’ all over the place. Watching me.” He presses a finger into you, just the very tip, gently, his other hand coming back up to your nipple - you clutch at his arms; “Weren’t you?” 

“Probably, probably E - can’t help it around you, not when you’re performin’ looking so good -” He laughs, pulling his finger away, crooking it as he pulls it up - knocking one of his huge rings against your clit. He draws you back - his body moving with his laugh causing you to bounce you on his thigh. You let out a gasp that quickly turns to a moan, 

“You think I look good darling?” You meet his eyes in the mirror, they’re bright and impish; a smug little smile on his face. Any other time you might have teased him - but not today. Not with your angle changing slightly when he pushes you forwards a little, his broad, large thigh pressing firmly into you again, you can feel your labia spreading against his jumpsuit, tight weave of the dancer’s gabardine rubbing against you. You bob your head quickly; 

 “Of course, of course E - you look, looked amazing; don’t want you to take it off.” He laughs, as if you’ve given him an idea - or perhaps confirmed something he thought before, 

“Well, don’t be shy - prove it to me baby.” You gape at him, trying to twist around to do something - although you’re not sure what, to prove it to him, but he stills you with both hands holding you in place. Before he lifts you, manhandling you where he wants you as he pulls you off of him - moving to sit down on the fluffy circular chair in the corner, he keeps a hold of you as he goes, but allows you to turn, before yanking you back onto his lap. Resting your legs on either side of one of his thighs. You can feel the crystals on your inner thighs, rubbing against you and you’re sure you’re gonna have a weird form of beard-burn by the time you get up, but you don’t let it stop you and you rock back and forth on him. He takes a second to strip your dress completely off, leaving you completely nude where before your belly button had been afforded a little modesty but nowhere else and you brace yourself with hands on his shoulders to arch your back, pushing your tits out and grind down on him.

“That’s it baby, show me how much you love this ‘suit, want you to get me all wet darling, not letting you up till there’s a spot on me,” You can feel your heat rising just from his words, and the rough material under you provides just enough friction for you to feel yourself getting close. 

He pulls you closer to him, so that you’re rocking your body practically into his crotch, and the movement is pulling the jumpsuit off of his chest a little, the tiniest hint of a nipple peeking out. You lean forward, rocking against him and shifting your balance with your arms around his neck for stability. You can feel every part of the chest section of the jumpsuit rubbing against your skin, pinkening it with the feel of the stones but, as your own nipple catches between a group of them with a little prickle of pain, you can’t help but moan, it only adding to to your building pleasure. He lets out his own little grunt as you move your head to his neck - causing him to fall back against the chair further. You’re practically horizontal now, although his feet remain on the floor and it puts your cheek in contact with his chest. You nuzzle into him, unable to resist licking when he’s so close - so shiny, so tempting. He bucks his hips as you do as if you’ve unlocked a hidden sensitivity of his. It only spurs you on more, moving to suckle on his little pink nipple, one of your hands coming away from his neck to stroke his chest hair. You only realise you’d zoned everything but his chest out when you feel a hand in your hair, pulling your head back and you suddenly realise he’s been talking, babbling at you, the whole time but you’d had such a single-minded focus you’d not even noticed. 

“Lord baby, you gots a hot little mouth, hot fucking little lips. God baby, your tongue, where’d you learn to do that, huh? Liable to make a man cream his pants like that, honey, and wouldn’t that be a waste?” He strokes your face and you smile, looking up at him, as he lets go of your hair and rubs his hands down your sides again. It’s only a moment later when he’s hauling you off of him, struggling to his feet. You stand there, flushed but growing colder in the frigid air with every moment that passes without being pressed against his burning body heat, your nipples pebbling. You watch as he surveys the room for a moment, his own arousal more than a little apparent in the stretchy fabric of the jumpsuit - before sighing, 

“Simple’s the best. Right honey?” 

“Sure, I’m - I’m sure that’s right El,” You agree, but not really knowing what you’re answering and he catches you by the arm pushing you backwards onto the bed, you gasp and scrabble backwards at his insistent pushing. A moment later you understand as he’s pulling the belt off, unzipping himself finally and, - oh, he’s not taking it off, he’s just unzipping the suit all the way, pulling his cock out. You groan, head falling back against the mountain of pillows. You’d never, never have mentioned how much you wanted this, to have his thick powerful body still encased in his jumpsuit as he fucks you. His magnetism, the sexual energy from the concert and his presence on the stage being impressed upon you with every brush of your naked body against the fabric - against the rhinestones. 

He pulls himself back a little before slipping a finger into you, ring bumping against your folds, it sinks in easily - you’re already so ready, just from bouncing on his thigh, and to be honest you’d been wet enough from the moment Also Sprach Zarathustra had turned into See See Rider. He hums, pleased that you’re soaking for him, and he doesn’t wipe off his finger before pushing it into your mouth, 

“That’s it baby, suck it off, taste yourself on me,” You obediently do as he says, sucking down - hollowing your cheeks, eyes wide. He pulls it out to balance himself on one hand, grasping his cock in the other, pumping it a couple times before lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Better be ready for me honey - ‘cause I’m sure as hell ready to sink into your tight little cunt.” You gasp as he doesn’t even wait for a reply, pushing himself into you. He’s pressing into you from all angles as you slowly adjust to his length within you, his soft tummy - crystals pressing into you from above, his musky chest just below your eye-line and his arm bracketing you into him from the other side of your neck. He stills for a second, before leaping into motion, struggling slightly to move himself more upright, keeping himself in you and pulling you close against him with a hold on your hips. You’re on your back while he kneels up now, allowing him to lift your butt a little, and thrust a little deeper. You squirm on him, little moans and gasps being released - you’ve not yet been able to get past having had the bedroom next to your parents growing up. He grabs your hips now, rings pressing in tight, to move your body onto him as he pumps into you. He’s talking the whole time - the man’s unable to stay quiet any moment he’s awake - 

“Oh god darling, never gonna be able to wear this suit ‘gain, Lord how’re you, so -” He thrusts in, hard, to punctuate his next sentence - “so - fucking - tight.” His breathing is already growing heavier, “How’re you so goddamn tight - like Lil’ Elvis is caught in a - ah - fucking vice. God, look at you.” 

You look up at him, fresh sweat starting to form at his chest and brow, he’s not even looking at you though, and you wonder who that last comment had been aimed at as he’s staring at his own reflection in the mirror. You’re glad though, when he smiles - eyes bright when he does glance back at you; whatever he’d seen had clearly cheered him up and out of his self-conscious mood, enough to encourage a sudden burst of energy again. He drags you back, lifting his own hips enough to spear into you at just the right angle. As he hits that perfect spot inside of you repeatedly he moves his hand from where it was still clutching your hip to stroke down across your mound, it’s a slightly awkward angle but he manages to swipe his thumb perfectly across your clit - your leg jerking, and your back arching in response. 

“Oh - Elvis, oh god, I’m so fucking close - babe you gotta, just keep -” He grunts above you, his thumb keeping pace, and his cock thrusting in at the same speed. It’s mere seconds, 

“Fuck - baby, you’re squeezin’ ‘round me so fuckin’ ti-ght, that’s a good fucking girl, my good girl.” Before it’s enough to send you over the edge, clenching down on him and shuddering, your mouth agape and your eyes shuttering closed as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. 

“Oh, oh - god, Elvis -” His pace changes, and it drags you back from floating, as he just goes for it at a rapid pace, fingernails clawing at your skin, before his hips are stuttering and he’s quickly pulling out as the first streaks of his ejaculate shoot across your pussy, he pulls himself up, pumping it across your tummy, and you moan at the sight - him looking goddamn regal - sparkling in the dim light as he shoots across you. He moves one of his hands to rub it over you, between your folds and over your stomach -  into your belly button. Before he collapses on top of you,  practically smothering you, in an effort to reach your mouth to kiss you - your legs are so tired and tense but you can just about lift them up to come around to grasp at him, barely noticing the now-familiar scratch of the rhinestones, locking your ankles over his back. You’re probably smearing cum all over the jumpsuit but you don’t care - too desperate to feel him close to you. You lock lips for a long moment, letting him take whatever he wants, underneath him like this it’s difficult to feel anything but utterly submissive and at his mercy. Your lips are bitten and raw by the time he pulls away and rolls off of you, and you can’t do anything but lie there, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. You look over at him, and he’s in practically the exact same position, soft matted chest hair wet with sweat and his little rounded tummy poking out of the unzipped suit with his now soft cock resting outside too, but smiling up at the ceiling - 

“Wish I still had my scarf - wouldn’t even have to get up to find something to wipe us down with,” You laugh with him, just barely getting the effort yourself to stand, on shaky legs, you’re sweaty and damp yourself and you can’t imagine how he feels - going straight into this after a two hour long concert, so you chivvy him up, 

“C’mon then El, I’ll run us a bath - we can get all clean together,” He hums, sounding as if he’s close to his come down already, 

“ ’S-ok little one, I can - just need a, a, wipe down.” You frown, you like his musk but no way in hell are you getting back into bed with him like this, but you’re not quite sure how to say it without starting an argument, when strangely, for once - Elvis seems to sense your reluctance, “Alright, alright, fine. But only if I get you all wet and warm in my lap,” he laughs to himself again, “well - warm and wet again - huh, darlin’,” You giggle with him, walking gingerly to put the bath on, and as you stand up he’s already stood behind you - crowding you against the dark bathroom wall, stroking your sides with his thick fingers, he tips your chin up to look you right in the eyes - “Thank you for that though little one, needed - needed to see how much you like me, see me again, been - I’ve been so distracted I ain’t had chance to even look at myself in weeks.” You smile, 

“Of course Elvis, I’m all yours - anytime.” You pause, wondering if you should mention it, “Seriously though - we’re gonna have to get Bill or Ciro -  someone’s gotta fix that dress,” He just laughs at you, shaking his head - 

“Honey, I told you - I’ll just buy it.”

[astralbondpro]

April 30, 1983 -

Andy Kaufman taunts Jerry Lawler on CWA Championship Wrestling, before a handicap match at the Mid-South Coliseum.

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Beautiful Fans Unseen Till Now! Live On Stage Candid Photo In Is Home Town Of Memphis Tennessee At The Mid South Coliseum In March 1974 Wearing The Arabian Jumpsuit And A Light Blue Silk Scarf And The Matching Belt A Crowd Of 12,000 Witnessed The Master Showman's Show Performance Concert.

[elvis1970s]

Had history turned out differently, Elvis' work schedule was set to continue throughout the late summer and autumn of 1977. Reports suggest that Elvis was in good spirits in the weeks off following his June tour, and told his cousin, Billy Smith, that this next tour was going to be the best yet.

This is the itinerary for his August tour:

Aug 17 - Cumberland County Civic Center, Portland, Maine

Aug 18 - Cumberland County Civic Center, Portland, Maine

Aug 19 - Utica Memorial Auditorium, Utica, NY

Aug 20 - Onondaga County War Memorial, Syracuse, NY

Aug 21 - Civic Center, Hartford, Connecticut

Aug 22 - Nassau Veterans Coliseum, Uniondale, NY

Aug 23 - University of Kentucky, Lexington, Kentucky

Aug 24 - Roanoke Civic Center, Roanoke, Virginia

Aug 25 - Cumberland County Arena, Fayetteville, NC

Aug 26 - Asheville Civic Center Arena, Asheville, NC

Aug 27 - Mid-South Coliseum, Memphis, Tennessee

Aug 28 - Mid-South Coliseum, Memphis, Tennessee

At the time of his passing, there were already some keenly anticipated dates confirmed for a tour in September.

Sep 21, 1977 - Huntington Civic Center, Huntington, West Virginia

Sep 22, 1977 - Huntington Civic Center, Huntington, West Virginia

Sep 26, 1977 - Indiana State University , Terre Haute, Indiana

Sep 28, 1977 - Savannah Civic Center, Savannah, Georgia

Special thanks to Francesc Lopez for providing information and press for the September tour.

In October, Elvis was due open the 5 000 seat Las Vegas Hilton Pavilion, a new showroom which was part of a major hotel redevelopment.

And then, in September 1978...

[ourshadowstallerthanoursoul]

On this day... - April 17th

On this day Led Zeppelin performed:

+ 1969 : Club Lafayette in Wolverhampton, UK

+ 1970 : Mid-South Coliseum in Memphis, Tennessee, USA

“The lyrics of Led Zeppelin’s opening song went “Set my soul on fire. We’re gonna groove – my, my, my – we’re gonna groove” And with the help of 10,732 Memphis fans these four British blues men did exactly that at Mid-South Coliseum last night. […] When the group began their potpourri of Memphis, Tobacco Road and others, some of the audience came out of their seats to the front of the stage and began clapping, giving the peace sign and moving about. This action brought on the house lights and some of the crowd was pushed back by police officers. They tried to leave the stage but were brought back by a screaming crowd.” – ‘The Led Zeppelin: My! My! Groovy’ by M. Hughes (Press-Scimitar)

+ 1977 : Market Square Arena in Indianapolis, Indiana, USA

“If a Led Zeppelin concert is nothing else, it’s a physical assault on the human mind and body. The British hard rock group […] “assaulted” a frenzied Markey Square Arena crowd of 18,000 last night for two hours and 45 minutes with a cranked-up sound and a dazzling light show. The audience […] was socked with damaging decibels, flying Frisbees, firecrackers and whisky bottles, eye-burning smoke and eye-popping flash pots and laser beams. One big headache. But you know what? The crowd loved it! That’s what Led Zep is all about. The group must have a certain hypnotic effect on its followers. Why else would anybody stand for hours in line to get a show at a stage front festival-seating spot only to be crushed by sweaty, smelly bods the rest of the night?” – ‘Led Zeppelin keeps audience in frenzy’ by Z. Dunking (Indianapolis News)

[hooked-on-elvis]

“Help Me”

THE MASTER WAS CONQUERED IN ONE SINGLE TRY. Elvis dropped to his knees while recording this song in studio.

Studio Sessions for RCA, December 12, 1973: Stax Studios, Memphis “Help Me” was the last song recorded on December 12, and they got it in one take; in his book 'Elvis: The Final Years', Jerry Hopkins reports that Elvis dropped to his knees to sing it. "Elvis Presley: A Life in Music" by Ernst Jorgensen. Foreword by Peter Guralnick (1998)

Right during the first 1974 Las Vegas engagement at the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada (Jan. 26 - Feb. 9, 1974), "Help Me" was a part of Elvis' live concert setlist.

Elvis Presley performing "Help Me", above on January 26 at the Las Vegas Hilton, Las Vegas, Nevada, and below on June 25, 1974 at the St. Johns Arena, Columbus, Ohio.

He's wearing the 1974 American Eagle suit.

FIRST OFFICIAL RELEASES

The song was released as a single, flip side to "If You Talk In Your Sleep", on May 1974. It became a great favorite of Elvis for his live performances. Interesting enough, a live recording was released in an album before the studio master could be properly released in an album itself.

(1) Single cover (1974); (2) Album cover, "Recorded Live on Stage in Memphis" (1974); (3) Album cover, "Promised Land" (1975).

On March 20, 1974 Elvis performed at the Mid-South Coliseum in Memphis, Tennessee, and the live album "Recorded Live on Stage in Memphis" was released with the soundboard recordings from this concert in which Presley performs "Help Me" live. This live album was released on July 7, 1974. Only in January 1975 the studio recording of the song, recorded at Stax Records in 1973, would be featured in an album, "Promised Land".

Album "Recorded Live on Stage in Memphis" (1974)

"HELP ME" lyrics Lord, help me walk another mile, just one more mile I'm tired of walkin' all alone Lord, help me smile another smile, just one more smile You know I just can't make it on my own I never thought I needed help before I thought that I could get by by myself But now I know I just can't take it any more With a humble heart, on bended knee, I'm beggin' You, please, help me Come down from Your golden throne to me, to lowly me I need to feel the touch of Your tender hand Remove the chains of darkness, let me see, Lord, let me see Just where I fit into Your master plan I never thought I needed help before I thought that I could get by by myself But now I know I just can't take it any more With a humble heart, on bended knee, I'm beggin' You, please, help me With a humble heart, on bended knee, I'm beggin' You, please, help me

Lyricist: Larry Gatlin

March 20, 1974. Elvis performing at the Mid-South Coliseum in Memphis, Tennessee.

Elvis wore the 1973 Arabian jumpsuit for the concert (8:30 pm). Due to that famous concert on March 20 in his hometown, the fans nicknamed the suit as the "Memphis Suit".

[bigredsweetiepie]

This clip happened when there was a talent exchange between the WWF and one of Jerry Lawler's events at the Mid-South Coliseum!

My poor sweet baby omg💔. I think I actually cried the first time I watched this. He wasn't even wearing his little arm band here in the scene with Cornette. His little rocking back and forth broke my heart.

His hair is dry and his mask is on half crooked. I think part of his top is undone😭

(Truly though I feel like poor Glenn was getting ready to go and they wanted to film a quick vignette)

[maximumcollectorgardenerposts]

The iconic Memphis Mid-South Coliseum colored and penciled by Alden R. Davis

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

August 5th, 1980 - Queen Story!

Queen perform at the Mid South Coliseum, Memphis, USA, during 'The Game' Tour

[calculatesguilt]

i know nothing about protihex. pretty please explain it to me it sounds super interesting!!!!

Oh gosh okay so disclaimer before I say anything more that anything I say about Protihex here is From My Brain, there's not really much about it in (idw1) canon other than "it's on Cybertron's south pole" and "it used to be a gladitorial pit when ruled by septimus prime" and "in the Olden Days it was called Protohex but it's now called Protihex"

The Protihex I talk about is from my worldbuilding in my fic Expunge/Override which both explores Perceptor's past and how he's coping (or not) in the present after the war, themes of isolation and debts, as well as a mystery going on in the overarching plot are present. There's also something really LGBT goin on between Drift and Percy.

That outta the way, the concept I have of Protihex in my head is that it's essentially a city hanging in a cavern above an energon lake. It's got refineries below it that pump the energon directly up into the cities, and the upper class is at the tip of the city. Kinda like... a reverse Coruscant of Star Wars fame.

Here's a rough graphic for how Protihex is built.

In pre-war Protihex, since it’s rumored that it sits above the Well of Sparks, Protihex trends towards a military regime, with a “president” at the forefront of politics. There’s a council of senators that represent each Polity District. Very focused on spark research with the desire to weaponize an entire generation. Some level of functionalism lingers though gutted of its more fanatical religious aspects. Has strict curfews, but clearly losing its grip.

The glamor is very surface-level. (Think Art Deco for the architecture.) The lower levels of Protihex is where “the good life” is. Much more condensed spaces means there’s more to do, like enjoy music and art, being social, and studying academia. Lead by corrupt businessmen and senators alike, not everything is as shiny and golden as it appears to be. Some shady dealing goin on in the lower districts.

Closer to the crust it’s much more weathered and harder to scrape by. Energon is hard to come by. This is mostly run by architects and construction workers. They work to keep the City aloft. (The metaphors on this one are Potent.)

Below Protihex is an energon river, and beside it are refineries. Pipes lead up into Protihex, pumping Energon up. This is the true heart of the polity. Refinery workers typically spend weeks there then visit the mid-levels of Protihex during their shift breaks. Refineries also look pretty on the outside, though on the inside aren’t, much reflecting the state of Protihex.

Now, I know you might be wondering why they built down instead of up, to which I'll give you an excerpt from Expunge/Override to explain.

Drift looks impressed. “I have to ask. Why hanging?” “That's a more complicated question… Truthfully I'm not sure. My mentor said it's because they wanted to forget about the gladiatorial coliseums above. Others suggest it's because the energon reserves above ground dried up so they started looking in sub levels.” “And you?” Perceptor is quiet for a moment as he contemplates his response. “Being a southern pole, Protihex experiences harsh winters and even harsher summers. The surface temperature reaches extreme highs and lows, making it difficult to build upwards lest you risk worsening exposure to solar radiation, as well as unstable architecture from the temperature shifts. It's much more extreme down here than it is in Iacon. They couldn't build up, so they built down instead, effectively avoiding the harsh weather conditions on the surface.” “And building a city right next to a sub-level energon river would be a bad idea.” “Raw energon is extremely volatile. To say it would be a bad idea is an understatement.”

[pocketfulofelviss]

“At the same time he saw Melissa [Blackwood], he began romancing JoCathy Brownlee, a bubbly, outgoing junior high health and physical education teacher. They met on August 2, 1975, when Elvis attended a Grizzlies game at the Mid-South Coliseum, where JoCathy worked part-time as a hostess in the press box. She spent the evening getting him whatever he wanted — pizza, Coke — and he picked up on her nickname, J. C., frequently calling her over where he sat with Linda [Thompson], with whom JoCathy had gone to Memphis State.” (Nash, 2010: 569) * #elvispresley #presley #theking #graceland #elvis #smile #love #idol #music #iconic #vintage #style #classy #vintagefashion #kingofmusic #rockandroll #sideburns #blessedsoul #rip #elvisthepelvis #memphis #tupelo #soldier #elvislegacy #epe https://www.instagram.com/p/CpYR67lrs6o/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[melancholicbutterflies]

Elvis History: The Cotton Club, Lubbock, TX

A little known venue Elvis performed at in February of 1955 following his and Buddy Holly's (Texan native), 4PM matinee at the Fair Park Coliseum. Buddy was actually opening for the King, what would be the first of two.

The Lubbock Cotton Club .... took its name from the region’s chief agricultural output. The club, established to appeal to Lubbock’s “high society” by hosting well-known orchestras and big bands, went on to interact with the local community in various ways—from hosting the Junior Welfare League’s Charity Ball in 1946 to being Lubbock’s first, and for many years only, integrated dance hall. With such a diverse level of community involvement, the Cotton Club engaged and influenced both the Lubbock community and the larger South Plains region.

In the mid-1950s the Cotton Club became a hub for rock-and-roll music. Elvis Presley performed at the Cotton Club on numerous occasions in 1955. In attendance at Presley’s performances was a local Lubbock musician, Buddy Holly, who met with Presley and was influenced by his style of music. Other rock-and-roll musicians played through the 1950s, including Little Richard, Fats Domino and Roy Orbison. In 1962 the club burned. Owner Ralph Lowe chose not to rebuild.

The Cotton Club was a progressive and trendsetting dance hall that often attracted great performers and large crowds. The West Texas venue significantly contributed to local, regional, national, and international music. The club provided the setting that spurred on the careers of local musicians before and even after they found success at larger levels.

Read more here (for non-Elvis, but nevertheless interesting historical tidbits, about this once great venue)