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Empire had rented and watched back-to-back all of the King's movies, played a few albums, gone slightly mad and amassed two hours' worth of usable samples. And then he made a record. When his girlfriend heard what he'd done, she burst into tears and left him. Three pressing plants in Europe refused to have anything to do with this "psychological garbage" (Empire's words), largely because if the Presley Foundation discovered who was responsible for this mighty sonic necrophilia, they'd quite happily sue. His own DHR label wisely kept their distance. Perhaps foolishly, Empire pressed up a handful of CD copies for some DJ friends in Australia he was to visit when ATR toured there. One year later, in a New York record store, Empire bought a vinyl copy of the record with a proper sleeve and a label, the dubious El Turco Loco ('The Mad Turk'). He was thrilled.
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