Introduction

Elvis Presley’s musical legacy is a treasure trove of timeless classics, and one hidden gem that showcases his fun and infectious side is “Do The Clam.” Released in 1965, this lively tune is a testament to Elvis’s ability to infuse even the simplest dance instructions with his unmistakable charm. Let’s take a closer look at the toe-tapping joy of “Do The Clam.”

Did You Know?

Unearth some fascinating facts about “Do The Clam” and the iconic artist behind it:

  1. Film Tie-In: “Do The Clam” was featured in the 1965 musical film “Tickle Me,” where Elvis Presley starred as a singing rodeo cowboy. The song, accompanied by Elvis’s energetic dance moves, added a memorable touch to the film.
  2. Dance Craze: The song introduces listeners to the “Clam” dance, a quirky and delightful routine that became a sensation during the ’60s. Explore how this dance craze captivated audiences and contributed to the song’s popularity.
  3. Chart Success: Despite being a departure from Elvis’s typical rock sound, “Do The Clam” found its way onto music charts, showcasing the artist’s ability to experiment with different styles while maintaining his chart-topping status.
  4. Recording Anecdotes: Delve into the behind-the-scenes stories of the song’s recording process. From Elvis’s playful approach to the collaboration with musicians, discover the creative dynamics that shaped “Do The Clam.”
  5. Cultural Impact: Examine the song’s impact on popular culture, both in the ’60s and beyond. Uncover how “Do The Clam” left an imprint on dance trends and influenced subsequent generations of artists.

Video

Lyrics: Do The Clam

Hey everybody gather round
N’ listen to that bongo sound
Grab the first one in your reach
Now we’re going to shake the beachDo the Clam, do the Clam
Grab your barefoot baby by the hand
Turn n’ tease, hug n’ squeeze
Dig right in n’ do the ClamYou can get your heart to spin
On the outside looking in
Moon ain’t gonna last all night
Well, let’s work up an appetiteDo the Clam, do the Clam
Grab your barefoot baby by the hand
Turn n’ tease, hug n’ squeeze
Dig right in n’ do the Clam

Everybody’s got that beat
Well, listen to those happy feet
Ain’t you glad that you found out
What the Clam is all about

Do the Clam, do the Clam
Oh and grab your barefoot baby by the hand
Turn n’ tease, hug n’ squeeze
Dig right in n’ do the Clam

Do the Clam, do the Clam
Oh and grab your barefoot baby by the hand
Turn n’ tease, hug n’ squeeze
Dig right in n’ do the Clam
Dig right in n’ do the Clam

You Missed

THE SONGS AREN’T HIS ANYMORE—THEY BELONG TO THE 60,000 PEOPLE WHO REFUSE TO LET THE MUSIC STOP. There is a powerful, heavy silence that sits at the center of every Randy Travis concert, but it is never empty. Since the 2013 stroke that claimed his ability to sing and nearly took his life, the performance has evolved into something far more intimate than a standard tour. It has become a conversation between a legend who can no longer speak his truths and a world that refuses to forget them. For two years and 54 cities, Randy Travis has walked onto stages not to perform, but to be witnessed. With his wife, Mary, beside him and his original band anchoring the sound, the shows feature James Dupré taking on the vocal heavy lifting—but the real singer in the room is the crowd. Every night, thousands of voices bridge the gap left by aphasia. They handle the verses of “Three Wooden Crosses” and “On the Other Hand,” turning arenas into something resembling a massive, tear-filled revival. When Randy mouths the lyrics alongside them, he isn’t just watching a show—he is reclaiming his own catalog through the lungs of the people who grew up listening to it. The climax of the night is always the same: the final song. As the music fades and the band holds steady, Randy Travis takes the microphone. The man who was silenced by a stroke delivers the only word he needs to bridge the distance between his past and his present. He says, “Amen.” People often wonder why he continues to tour, why he chooses the grueling pace of the road when he could rest in the quiet of his home. But when you see the room “come apart” in that final moment, the answer is clear: this isn’t a farewell tour. It’s a reciprocal healing. The fans show up to give him back the songs he gave them, and he shows up to remind them—and himself—that while the voice may have changed, the spirit remains exactly where it always was. He is calling the tour More Life, and he has earned every syllable of that title. He is living proof that a legacy isn’t built on the perfection of a vocal performance, but on the connection that survives long after the ability to sing has faded.