On Kacey Musgraves’ “Velvet Elvis”
In light of Kacey Musgraves’ fantastic Golden Hour winning the Album of the Year Grammy Award, I’ve decided to release my five paragraph essay about her song “Velvet Elvis.”
THROUGHOUT human history, storytellers have employed the use of simile, metaphor, and symbolic language to compare the intensity of an emotion to something tangible or real. “Peace like a river,” (Paul Simon) for example, or “My love is like ‘wo’” (Mya). This however, as argued below, is not the case with Kacey Musgraves’ song “Velvet Elvis.” Though ostensibly the phrase “Velvet Elvis” seems to be an appropriate metaphor when describing a handsome lover, a closer reading of the lyrics paint a clear portrait of the song’s true subject. First, we will examine “Velvet Elvis” within the context of the whole album, and build the case that it is a straightforward love song about a significant other. Second, we will analyze one specific lyric that shifts our approach and begins to peel back these layers of embedded meaning. Finally, we will review the symbolic language and double entendres found in “Velvet Elvis,” reinforcing this newfound perspective and adding additional joy to an already delightful listening experience. Though it is easy to assume that Kacey Musgraves uses the phrase “Velvet Elvis” as a metaphor for an attractive lover, the lyrics suggest something much more straightforward: simply, a velvet painting of the King of Rock’n’Roll himself.
“All I ever wanted, was a little magic. With a good laugh, jet black sparkle in his eye… You’re my Velvet Elvis, baby.”
SEVERAL songs on “Golden Hour” use figurative language to compare being in a harmonious relationship with something ubiquitous, so it is easy to assume that “Velvet Elvis” is one such song. “Wonder Woman,” for example is not about the superhero Wonder Woman; rather, it finds Kacey recognizing that she is not like Wonder Woman — gold-clad, fearless, equipped with a lasso. Rather, that she is a human being — imperfect, fallible, and asking for clear communication from her partner. “Butterflies” is not about literal butterflies, but the feeling one gets in their stomach when they are in love. “Space Cowboy” is not about a cowboy flying through space (or the 2000 movie Space Cowboys for that matter), but about giving a restless lover the space he seems to crave. And so on and so forth. So naturally, it would be easy to assume “Velvet Elvis” is a metaphor; she is not actually dating a suede-clad Elvis Presley (who died in 1977), or perhaps a lookalike, an impersonator, or even someone else named “Elvis.” And indeed, several of the lyrics seem to reinforce this point: “All I ever wanted, was a little magic. With a good laugh, jet black sparkle in his eye… You’re my Velvet Elvis, baby.” These lyrics do imply that her lover is as handsome, perfect, and wonderful as that one particular poshly dressed rock’n’roll star.
INDEED, these lyrics could easily be applied directly to a person held in high regard by the singer/lyricist; however, there is one line, one simple phrase that sheds away the ambiguous and allows us to derive a single clear-cut meaning from the song. If the reader is ready, I would like to share that line with them:
“I don’t really care about the Mona Lisa. I need a Graceland kind of man, who’s always on my mind.”
“The Mona Lisa?” The listener might inquire. Where did that come from? Nowhere else in the song does Kacey mention Renaissance art, Leonardo Da Vinci, or any other metaphor that the Mona Lisa would likely represent (her ambiguous smile, the painting’s exorbitant value, long lines to view it at the Louvre, for example). This mention of the Mona Lisa sticks out like an ear of corn in a hay field. Yet, if the reader assumes that she is saying, literally, that she has no interest in owning a piece of art as priceless or ‘important’ as the Mona Lisa — that her tastes are closer aligned to Memphis than France or Italy, it becomes clear that she is talking about a literal velvet Elvis. Though many people would prefer to own, say, the most valuable piece of art on Earth, Ms. Musgraves would simply prefer a portrait of Elvis Presley on colorful velvet. In fact she claims to have found her perfect portrait of The King, and this song is very much an ode to that piece of art.
ONCE the reader accepts that Kacey is speaking directly, the lyrics open up and display many delightful double meanings, like the flowers that one encounters while taking a walk when the bar down the street doesn’t close for an hour. Take “Soft to the touch, it feels like love, I knew it as soon as I felt it,” for example. Often people who speak the English language use the word “feel” symbolically — to represent thoughts or emotions that ring true to the very core of their beings. Many describe love as a feeling, and though they may mean it literally when caressing the skin or the hair of a loved one, they also describe holding someone treasured in their minds as a “feeling.” So it would not be strange for Ms. Musgraves to describe a love so strong that she “knew it as soon as she felt it.” Yet the metaphor is made all the more delightful if the reader assumes that she is talking about a portrait of Elvis Presley made out of velvet. One imagines Kacey, perhaps in an antique store, encountering this Velvet Elvis, running her hands over its textured surface, knowing that A) she wanted it for herself, and B) this kind of love was well within her reach. It’s even more delightful to know that it’s made out of felt — the very material that she is feeling. Ha! Other telltale lines begin to reveal themselves when taking this approach — “You’re my Velvet Elvis, I ain’t never gonna take you down. Making everybody jealous when they step into my house.” One imagines the portrait hanging in an entryway as she hosts a dinner party, as guests admire its beauty or perhaps secretly covet it for themselves.
IN CONCLUSION, it becomes quite a joy to imagine Kacey Musgraves’ song “Velvet Elvis” as literally about a portrait of Elvis Presley made of velvet, and the lyrics certainly support that viewpoint. Ms. Musgraves album is filled with ear candy in all flavors: her sharp wit, amazing voice, and beautiful sonic textures. All of that said, one lyric does potentially contradict this reading of Velvet Elvis, and it would be remiss of me to not mention it. “[I want to] go out with you in powder blue, and tease my hair up high.” One does not normally leave the house with their arms around a piece of art instead of a date, “painting” the town red as it were. But given the intensity of her devotion described in “Velvet Elvis,” it’s not impossible to imagine our narrator, Kacey Musgraves, on a night out, ecstatically carrying her velvet portrait from bar to bar, cloud nine no longer out of reach, with a rainbow hanging over her head.
