In the annals of music history, stories of rivalries often pit rock toward rock—Beatles vs. Stones, Hendrix vs. Clapton. But one of the most unexpected tales is about rock royalty himself—Elvis Presley—feeling a twinge of competition from a man with a velvet voice and a big heart: Engelbert Humperdinck.
Imagine it: Las Vegas, mid-1960s. The King of Rock ‘n’ Roll strolling into a nightclub show, not to steal the spotlight, but to surprise a fellow performer. That performer: Engelbert, then a rising romantic balladeer known for his smooth delivery of “Release Me,” “The Last Waltz,” and later, “A Man Without Love.” Elvis walked in, sat down, and within minutes took over—not by force, but by energy.
Engelbert remembers that night: “Elvis came dressed in a cape, opened it like Batman, and the audience went crazy. I had to quiet them: ‘Elvis, this is my show!’”. Yet there was no resentment. Instead, mutual admiration—and a sideburn rivalry.
Yes, Elvis borrowed Engelbert’s look. Engelbert introduced the high-collared jumpsuit and pronounced sideburns in 1965. Elvis? He picked it up around 1972, jokingly called out Engelbert: “Hell, that’s not me, that’s Engelbert Humperdinck!”.
But it wasn’t just style-born imitation. Strategic musical crossover played a role too. Elvis covered Englebert’s 1969 track “Spanish Eyes” during his Stax sessions in 1973 and was clearly influenced by Engelbert’s romantic crooning. The world’s most famous rock singer was listening, tuning in, and influenced.
Offstage, the Bond went deeper. Engelbert calls Elvis “one of the kindest men” he ever met—generous to both fans and friends, humble despite superstardom. Elvis, in turn, found in Engelbert someone who understood the pressures of fame without needing a crown of gold. Says Engelbert: “He taught me humility… he never took his image seriously”.
By reshaping what could have been rivalry into friendship, they showed a different kind of legend—one defined by respect, inspiration, and mutual growth. When Elvis borrowed Engelbert’s concept, he wasn’t challenging his throne—he was tipping his hat to a man who helped change his own. And in doing so, both left marks on music history.