Introduction

And the Grass Won’t Pay You No Mind: A Touch of Neil Diamond in Elvis’s Memphis Soul

Elvis Presley’s 1969 recording of “And the Grass Won’t Pay No Mind” stands out as a unique gem in his vast catalog. It’s a departure from his usual rock and roll sound, leaning towards a softer, introspective ballad style. Interestingly, the song wasn’t written by Presley himself, but by another iconic singer-songwriter: Neil Diamond.

Neil Diamond, then a rising star, penned “And the Grass Won’t Pay No Mind” in the late 1960s. The song’s lyrics paint a picture of a peaceful moment shared by lovers amidst nature. Lines like “Listen easy, you can hear God calling” and “The time will be our time and the grass won’t pay no mind” evoke a sense of tranquility and connection. The simple, poetic language reflects a different side of Diamond’s songwriting, one that resonated with Presley.

Elvis Presley recorded “And the Grass Won’t Pay No Mind” during his famous “American Sound Studio Sessions” in Memphis in 1969. This period saw Presley experimenting with different sounds and genres, moving away from the rock and roll of his earlier years. His rendition of the song captures the gentle mood of the lyrics. Presley’s vocals are smooth and soulful, backed by a stripped-down arrangement featuring piano, acoustic guitar, and strings.

While not a major commercial hit, “And the Grass Won’t Pay No Mind” has garnered a dedicated following among Elvis Presley fans. It showcases Presley’s versatility as a vocalist and his willingness to explore new musical territories. The song’s enduring appeal lies in its quiet beauty, a tender moment captured in time.

So, as you listen to “And the Grass Won’t Pay No Mind,” prepare to be surprised by a different side of the King. Let the song transport you to a peaceful scene of love and connection, sung with a smooth soulfulness by Elvis Presley.

Video

You Missed

“The death of Robin Gibb was not simply the result of fame or life’s choices. It was the heartbreaking conclusion of a journey marked by silent battles — struggles written into his very body long before the world ever knew his name. From the start, Robin carried an invisible burden: hereditary illness that made his health fragile. Decades later, doctors revealed the truth — cancer and intestinal complications that slowly stole his strength. Robin faced other challenges too — chronic pain, drastic weight loss, and relentless exhaustion. To cope, he relied on medications and treatments. What began as survival became a cycle: painkillers to endure, sedatives to sleep, and stimulants to keep performing. He didn’t do it for escape — he did it to keep living, to keep singing, to keep his promise to music and to fans. Food brought little comfort in his later years; his weakened body couldn’t fight back. Yet Robin still pushed himself onto stages, his fragile frame carrying a voice that remained achingly beautiful. Could he have been saved? Perhaps, with today’s science and knowledge, things might have been different. But in his time, no one fully understood the toll of genetic illness and relentless pressure. Robin trusted his doctors. He believed treatment would let him continue, if only a little longer. The sorrow deepened within the Gibb family. Barry, the eldest, bore the agony of watching Maurice and then Robin pass away, each loss tearing away a piece of the Bee Gees’ harmony. Robin’s life was a gift — a voice that was fragile yet haunting, carrying love, sorrow, and a rare humanity. But the world often took without seeing the cost. Behind the glittering disco lights stood a man quietly breaking — not from weakness, but from giving everything and asking for nothing. Robin Gibb was not only a star. He was a man of extraordinary talent with a body that betrayed him. He burned so brightly the world still feels his warmth. Yet his light faded far too soon. That is the part of the story we must remember — not only the legend, but the man who gave it all.”