Elvis is in the Building

It’s hard to imagine Elvis at 80. Maintaining the quiff would have been tricky, and if he had continued to expand at the same rate (eight men were required to carry his 900lbs coffin) then he may well be sitting in the entrance of the Natural History Museum by now. Original rock and rollers would probably say that Elvis had already died in a professional sense in 1958, when he was drafted into the army. The hip-shaking, corruptive rebel of rock and roll - the "devil's music" - had been conditioned, adopted by "the man" to become a poster-boy for military discipline and nationalism. Over 50 photographers were called in to capture the symbolic moment when they cut off his hair: those iconic locks reduced to a standard-issue buzz cut.

The music went a bit downhill too; his blue suede shoes replaced with the more wholesome image of a southern crooner, and his reductive pursuit of a Hollywood career saw him become increasingly irrelevant during the era of beat bands and psychedelic rock. But there is a cruel irony to the fact that Elvis' range was never bettered than when he was at his most dangerously unhealthy. Anyone who has heard his Unchained Melody during his final television special for CBS can attest to that.

You won’t hear mention of those bloated years at the current Elvis at the O2 exhibition, which runs until the end of August. You could easily leave thinking the last five years of his life didn't really happen: the divorce, the barbiturates, the paranoia, the peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwiches. (As a side note, it should be noted that his favourite culinary choices are at least alluded to in The Presley Family Cookbook, available in the gift shop, which features the dubious delight of the Cola Salad, the ingredients of which include black cherry Jell-O, chopped apple, raisins, pecans, white grapes, cream cheese and tinned pineapple. Then, according to the preparation guide, you need to "add Pepsi-Cola and stir".)

The exhibition is instead a fantastic hagiography of The King encompassing over 300 personal artefacts – the largest exhibition of Elvis memorabilia ever displayed in Europe – with much of it brought over from his Graceland home. There are so many items that you can’t help but feel sympathy for the fans currently paying admission to his Memphis residence only to find the garage empty and half the wardrobe missing. Maybe Priscilla will use the time wisely and get the cleaners in.

It's a busy, eager crowd: families, couples and people of all ages. We file into dark rooms with audio of rare interviews playing from hidden speakers, plus snippets of early demos, live recordings and his most notable hits all helping to paint an aural history, as well as a literal one. We fawn over illuminated glass cabinets like we are studying the ancient relics from a forgotten tomb, and read scrawled letters like sacred texts. Every seemingly innocuous item takes on a special significance: his third grade report card, a pair of his dad's trousers, a travel Monopoly set. It is the glaring ordinariness of these humble items which make the ostentatious stuff even more dramatic: his 1956 Lincoln Continental, the golf buggies he used on the grounds of Graceland, kitsch gold telephones and tiger statues, and the Vegas costumes in all their gleaming, rhinestone-encrusted, figure-hugging glory. (It is worth stopping to note here just how tall Elvis was: over six foot with wide shoes. He must have been an imposing presence.)

I personally liked some of the smaller items which offer a brief glimpse into his character. He spent money wildly on a mishmash of passions and hobbies. In the cabinet displaying his Karate suits, there is a handwritten synopsis for a martial arts movie concept called The New Gladiators. It was never made, but maybe Tarantino should have a stab at it. There are pages of a note requesting a meeting with Richard Nixon, written in a turbulent scrawl on letter-headed paper from American Airlines. There is also a note he wrote to The Beatles via Ed Sullivan congratulating them on their first US tour.

The popularity of the exhibition seems to suggest that the Elvis story is still just as relevant today as it has ever been. He remains a hugely crucial figure in popular culture, which is not something you can level at many 80 year olds. Perhaps this was due to his huge appeal as a performer. He affected all streams of society from the disenfranchised youth of the 1950s to the bible-brandishing heart of conservative America.

But Elvis was always quite unassuming about the weight of change he spearheaded. He never seemingly shook off the simplicity of his rural upbringing, where he would develop his passion for singing in the poor black churches of Tupelo, and record his first songs as a gift to his mother. There is strong evidence to suggest that if Elvis hadn't become such a global commodity before the age of 21, he may well have considered a full-time career in the military. For a young boy in his position, it was an obvious and not uncommon path to choose. And he was valued. When he left West Germany after two years, he had been promoted to the rank of sergeant.

Perhaps it doesn't matter anyway, as his legacy was probably assured even by then. Whether another pop figure will ever emerge to match the seismic influence of Elvis Presley remains to be seen (Harry Styles, anyone?). But I think it highly unlikely, and this may be the very reason the fascination persists and we keep coming back for more. Oh, and that voice, of course, which remains absolutely timeless.

Elvis at the O2 runs until 31 August 2015.