This is the moment a jerky kid from Tupelo becomes a star. Elvis’ voice, singing about a lonely man who’s a double shot of whiskey from doing some terrible, trembles as it hopscotches through bassist Bill Black’s jazzy saunter. Twinkly piano attempts to set Elvis as a crude lounge act, but Scotty Moore’s stinging guitar has other ideas. The vibe is everything. From here, Elvis could yodel and it would be a hit.