The Greatest Oldies Music

Oldies Musics

Any Way You Want Me (That’s How I Will Be) – Elvis Presley

Introduction

Elvis Presley, the undisputed King of Rock ‘n’ Roll, left an indelible mark on the world with his timeless music. One such gem is the soul-stirring ballad, “Any Way You Want Me (That’s How I Will Be).” This iconic song showcases the raw emotion and vocal prowess that made Elvis a legend in the music industry.Elvis Presley – Anyway You Want Me – Vinyl (7", 45 RPM, EP), 1962 [r12577997] | Discogs

Did You Know?

1. Origin and Release

“Any Way You Want Me (That’s How I Will Be)” was originally released in 1956 as the B-side to “Love Me Tender,” one of Elvis’s chart-topping hits. The song was later featured on the album “Elvis.”

2. Songwriting Collaboration

The song is a collaborative effort between Aaron Schroeder and Cliff Owens, who crafted lyrics that perfectly complemented Elvis’s emotive delivery. This partnership resulted in a track that continues to resonate with listeners across generations.

3. Elvis’s Interpretation

Elvis’s rendition of the song is a testament to his versatility as an artist. His ability to infuse sincerity into the lyrics, coupled with the stirring melody, solidified “Any Way You Want Me” as a classic in the Elvis Presley repertoire.

4. Chart Success

While the song may not have received the same commercial success as some of Elvis’s other hits, its enduring appeal is evident in its continued presence on playlists and in the hearts of fans worldwide.Pin on When ELVIS was happy

Video

Lyrics: Any Way You Want Me (That’s How I Will Be) 

I’ll be a strong as a mountain,
Or weak as a willow tree,
Anyway you want me,
That’s how I will be.I’ll be a tame as a baby,
Or wild as the raging sea,
Anyway you want me,
That’s how I will be.

In your hand my heart is clay,
To take a mold as you may.
I’m what you make me, you’ve only to take me,
And in your arms I will stay.

I’ll be a fool or a wise man,
My darling you hold the key,
Yes, anyway you want me,
That’s how I will be,
I will be.

 

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The roar of Saturday college football usually belongs to shoulder pads, yard lines, and the deafening swell of a home crowd in Ohio. But in an instant, the gridiron can trade its fierce urgency for something entirely unexpected. Across the manicured green turf, hundreds of band members in crisp uniforms march in meticulous sync, their brass horns catching the stadium lights. Slowly, deliberately, the lines shift and snap into place, spelling out a towering, undeniable tribute across the field: ELVIS. In a coliseum built for roaring tackles and scoreboard clocks, the noise yields to a familiar, swinging rhythm—proof that even far from the neon of Memphis, a kid from Tupelo could command a stadium long after he was gone.

Every year as August 16 bleeds into the Memphis night, Elvis Presley Boulevard transforms into a quiet, pulsing river of flickering candlelight. People converge from every corner of the earth, carrying heavy grief and faded photographs, forming a living quilt of humanity outside the stone walls of Graceland. There are grandmothers who still remember the scent of their first record sleeve, alongside teenagers wearing vintage tour shirts they discovered through a parent’s vinyl collection. They speak dozens of languages and inhabit entirely different worlds, yet they stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the heavy summer humidity, bound by a shared devotion. Nearly half a century after the music stopped in that upstairs bathroom, the enduring mystery of that pilgrimage asks a simple, haunting question: what was it that Elvis handed to the world—something so profound, so deeply felt—that people chose to carry his memory across decades and lifetimes, refusing to let him go?

Time is a peculiar thief, cutting ties before they can even form, yet family blood has a way of refusing to stay neatly boxed inside history. Though Riley Keough entered the world more than a decade after Elvis Presley left it—meaning his hands never cradled her, his voice never hummed her to sleep—a single composite frame can bridge that impossible chasm. In the image, the timeless, sharp-eyed gaze of the grandfather rests just inches from the face of a granddaughter who carries his restless spirit into a new century. It is an illusion, of course, a quiet stitching together of two eras that never overlapped. But it captures a deeper, untamable truth: some lineages are too powerful for the grave to interrupt, proving that a family story doesn’t end with a final breath—it simply waits for the next generation to pick up the thread.

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