What Elvis Took from Black Musicians

How a segregated music industry profited off Black creativity and left the originators behind.

Elvis Presley is often crowned the “King of Rock ‘n’ Roll,” but much of his catalog was built on songs first written, performed, and popularized by Black musicians – artists who rarely received the credit, airplay, or royalties they deserved. Elvis admired Black music; and he benefited from the exploitative music industry he rose within that routinely cut out the very people who shaped the sound of American rock and his entire catalog.

Here’s a breakdown of the songs Elvis recorded that were created or made famous by Black musicians, including quotes from the original artists – many of whom were sidelined or outright destroyed by the system.

“That’s All Right”

Original Artist: Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup (1946)
Popularized By: Elvis Presley (1954)

By the time Elvis Presley stepped into Sun Studio and cut “That’s All Right,” the song already had a life and a history. Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup had written and recorded it nearly a decade earlier. His version carried the weight of experience: deliberate, spacious, full of the blues. Crudup didn’t create the song to make a hit, he played the song like he was telling the truth.

When Elvis recorded it, the tempo jumped and the production tightened. The phrasing changed to suit a rockabilly mold, and the pain in the song became something flaccid and pointless. The music industry had a habit of doing this – reworking the emotional center of a song to suit a broader (read: whiter) audience.

What Crudup didn’t get – despite multiple hits like “My Baby Left Me” and “So Glad You’re Mine” also covered by Elvis – was compensation. He was promised royalties, and those royalties never came. “They said I was getting royalties,” he explained later, “Hell, I ain’t seen nothing but a damn piece of paper.” It wasn’t bitterness. It was the plain truth from a man who watched others get rich off work he had done in good faith.

Crudup died before the legal system ever fully corrected this. His contributions, like those of many Black musicians of his era, were treated as raw material – something to be mined, not celebrated. But “That’s All Right” still begins with him. It always will.

“They said I was getting royalties. Hell, I ain’t seen nothing but a damn piece of paper.” — Arthur Crudup

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“Hound Dog”

Original Artist: Big Mama Thornton (1952)
Elvis Version: 1956

Thornton’s version was raw and defiant, rooted in her blues background. Elvis’s version, polished and sanitized for mainstream audiences, became a pop phenomenon. Thornton was paid $500 total.

“That song sold over two million copies. I got one check for $500 and never saw another.” — Big Mama Thornton

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“Mystery Train”

Original Artist: Junior Parker (1953)
Popularized By: Elvis Presley (1955)

Junior Parker’s “Mystery Train” was a slow burn of loss and resignation, a blues classic wrapped in the hum of a rhythm section that never raised its voice. Parker’s voice told the story like a man who had already accepted that the world takes what it wants from you. That’s what made it powerful. It didn’t posture. It sat in the pain. And in 1953, the only people hearing it were on Black radio stations and juke joints.

Enter Elvis Presley, who took that same song two years later and polished it into something marketable. What had once been a mournful meditation became a jaunty rockabilly number. The sorrow got stripped out and the rhythm got sped up. The voice changed from wounded to smug. It was the musical equivalent of smiling while you’re stealing – and it worked. Elvis’s version became the definitive one. Not because it was better, but because it was allowed to be heard.

Presley fans love to claim he was “inspired” by Black artists. But inspiration doesn’t pay the rent. Elvis got radio play, royalties, and reverence. Junior Parker got a footnote. And it wasn’t an accident. The same system that let Elvis become the King was the one that told Parker he didn’t belong at the coronation.

It’s not that Elvis recorded a cover. It’s that his version erased the original and people applauded him for it.

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“My Baby Left Me”

Original Artist: Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup (1950)
Elvis Version: 1956

Another Crudup-penned track that became a staple in Elvis’s catalog. Like with “That’s All Right,” Crudup saw little to nothing in return.

“I realized I was making everybody rich, and here I was poor.” — Arthur Crudup

“Tryin’ to Get to You”

Original Artist: The Eagles (Washington D.C. R&B group, 1954)
Elvis Version: 1955

Elvis’s vocal phrasing closely followed the Eagles’ original performance. Despite the similarities, The Eagles faded into obscurity while Elvis’s version thrived.

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“Shake, Rattle and Roll”

Original Artist: Big Joe Turner (1954)
Elvis Version: 1956

Turner’s version had explicit sexual undertones; Elvis’s version was cleaned up for a white audience. Turner’s raw R&B vocals were replaced with a safer, palatable delivery.

“Everybody knew what they were doing. They wanted our music, but not us.” — Big Joe Turner

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“Lawdy Miss Clawdy”

Original Artist: Lloyd Price (1952)
Elvis Version: 1956

Lloyd Price wrote this R&B classic at 19. Elvis recorded a note-for-note cover just a few years later.

“He made it bigger, sure. But when I did it, they said it was ‘race music.’ When he did it, it was rock ‘n’ roll.” — Lloyd Price

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“When It Rains It Really Pours”

Original Artist: Billy “The Kid” Emerson (1954)
Elvis Version: Unreleased until later

Another blues tune out of Sun Records. Elvis’s rendition stripped it of its original grit and humor.

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“Tiger Man (King of the Jungle)”

Original Artist: Rufus Thomas (1953)
Elvis Version: 1968

Rufus Thomas, a DJ and performer at Sun Records, wrote this playful R&B song. It didn’t reach national audiences until Elvis revived it during his ’68 Comeback Special.

“People didn’t know it was mine until I told ’em.” — Rufus Thomas

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“I Got a Woman”

Original Artist: Ray Charles (1954)
Elvis Version: 1956

Elvis often said he admired Ray Charles, but his audience rarely connected the dots between Charles’s gospel-blues fusion and Presley’s early sound.

“I was mixing gospel with blues. Some people thought I was committing blasphemy. Elvis made it safe.” — Ray Charles

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“Milkcow Blues Boogie”

Original Versions: Kokomo Arnold (1934); Sleepy John Estes, Big Bill Broonzy
Elvis Version: 1954

Elvis turned a traditional blues song into upbeat rockabilly. The original artists were long forgotten by the mainstream.

Kokomo Arnold, who coined the phrase “milk cow blues,” died before rock and roll even began to acknowledge its roots.

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“Ain’t That Lovin’ You Baby”

Original Artist: Jimmy Reed (1956)
Elvis Version: 1960

Jimmy Reed’s laid-back blues style influenced everyone from The Rolling Stones to Elvis. But few fans of Elvis knew the origin. Reed, plagued by epilepsy and alcoholism, never saw mainstream fame or serious royalties despite being one of the most influential bluesmen of the 1950s.

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“Crawfish”

Duet with: Kitty White (1958)

Kitty White’s voice opens this sultry, atmospheric number from King Creole. She is rarely credited, despite being essential to the track’s mood. Kitty White once said she recorded her part in isolation, never even meeting Elvis. She received session wages only.

While Elvis didn’t write these songs and may not be legally responsible for the contracts that cheated Black artists, he profited from a segregated system that rewarded white performers for Black innovation. He once said:

“The colored folks been singing it and playing it just like I’m doin’ now, man, for more years than I know.”

And yet, Presley’s career became a sanitized symbol of rock ‘n’ roll – one that allowed him into living rooms, while the originators were shut out.

Elvis often praised Black musicians, but praise didn’t equal justice. Artists like Arthur Crudup and Big Mama Thornton spent their lives fighting for compensation that never came. Their songs helped make Elvis a star, but they were kept out of the spotlight – and out of the bank.

The exploitation wasn’t always personal, but it was always systemic. Labels, promoters, and managers profited while the originators faded into obscurity. The next time you hear Elvis on the radio, remember that behind the King’s voice is a chorus of forgotten names. Not because their music wasn’t good enough. But because the industry never gave them a chance.