Tom Jones’ version of Elvis Presley Blues isn’t just another tribute—it’s a reflection of years of friendship, admiration, and the kind of connection you don’t find often in the world of music. When Jones covered Gillian Welch’s song, you could hear every ounce of that relationship in his voice. Stripped down, raw, and haunting, his voice carries the weight of memories shared with Elvis, the kind that make this song feel more like a confession than a performance.
Jones doesn’t just sing about Elvis; he sings as if he’s lived it. Because he did. There’s a reason these two were close—Elvis didn’t trust many people, but he trusted Tom. When you listen to the track, it’s not about rock and roll or who changed what. It’s about one man, looking back at his friend, knowing that fame cost him more than anyone else would ever understand.
The truth behind Tom Jones and Elvis Presley’s friendship, one of the deepest connections in music, comes alive in this song.
Tom Jones and Elvis met in Hollywood in the mid-60s, and what started as mutual respect turned into a deep friendship. It’s one of those stories that sounds almost too good to be true: two of the biggest names in music, staying up all night, laughing, sharing stories about the highs and lows of stardom. But that’s exactly what they did. Elvis called Tom his “brother.” That’s why when Jones sings this song, it feels more intimate, more real. He’s not just paying homage; he’s grieving the loss of someone who meant something to him beyond the music.
Jones takes the original folk ballad and turns it into a soulful reflection of Elvis’ life, touching on the struggles, the greatness, and the eventual price he paid for being “The King.”
Tom Jones’ rendition of “Elvis Presley Blues” captures the highs and lows of stardom, reflecting the burden Elvis carried throughout his life.
In the video, you see Jones alone, looking back at old footage of his friend. There’s no grandeur here, no spectacle—just a man remembering another man, with all the flaws and beauty that come with it. That’s what makes this version so special. Jones doesn’t shy away from the truth of what it meant to be Elvis. He doesn’t make it pretty because it wasn’t. And that’s exactly why it resonates.
This track is Jones’ way of saying goodbye, but it’s also his way of keeping the memory alive. There’s a tenderness in the performance, a weight that only comes from real friendship. It’s more than a cover; it’s a reflection of love, respect, and loss, all wrapped up in a bluesy, aching melody that speaks to anyone who has ever admired someone who was larger than life.
