I was in Memphis for the 20th anniversary of Elvis' death and among the many thrills for anyone who grew up listening to Presley's trembling, snarling, moaning voice bursting from the radio was to hear the huge catalogue of songs he recorded played back to back wherever you went. There were vastly more than the casual Rock and Roll fan might think. Many were throwaway (Can't Help Falling in Love) or plain goofy (Blue Suede Shoes), and some were sublime (Suspicious Minds), but they all voiced things that Presley, a teenage truck driver who got his hair cut in a blacks-only barbershop, would probably not have been able to find the words to say. He had the sex appeal - the hips and the lips - but the songs gave him eloquence. "He found depth and maturity in music that eluded him in life," says Silverton. His book takes its own sweet time as it cherry picks its way through the selected contents of Presley's musical pill box, relishing the way his music can be both "fake and real, hokey and heartfelt." In fifty songs, with Wurtlitzer prose that brings the songs loudly to life, the author explores how and why Elvis connected with the world through the songs he recorded, where those songs came from, and what the choices, either imposed or impassioned, meant to him. Along the way, he shines an informed, affectionate light on the songwriters who gave Elvis not a voice - he already had that - but expression.