Some Elvis Presley recordings announce themselves with swagger. Others survive because of something much quieter.
“Today, Tomorrow and Forever,” featuring Elvis and Ann-Margret, belongs to that quieter world. Hearing their duet today feels almost like discovering a private corner of the Viva Las Vegas era—a moment away from the racing cars, neon lights, dancing, and high-energy chemistry most fans associate with the pair.
Instead of competing for the spotlight, their voices settle beside each other.
And that makes the recording especially fascinating.
The song was written by Bernie Baum, Florence Kaye, and Bill Giant, a songwriting team responsible for numerous songs recorded by Elvis during his Hollywood years. Its melody was adapted from Franz Liszt’s “Liebesträume,” giving the piece a romantic foundation that reaches far beyond the pop music of the early 1960s.
Elvis recorded “Today, Tomorrow and Forever” during the sessions for Viva Las Vegas in July 1963 at Radio Recorders in Hollywood. A solo Elvis performance was used in the film and appeared on the original soundtrack EP.
But another version existed.
Elvis and his co-star Ann-Margret had also recorded the song together.
For decades, that duet remained unheard by the general record-buying public. It was not part of the familiar soundtrack release that fans brought home during the movie’s original era. The Elvis–Ann-Margret duet eventually received an official release many years later, turning it into one of those archival discoveries that allow longtime listeners to hear a familiar period from a different angle.
That delayed appearance gives the recording much of its charm.
Unlike an Elvis hit that might instantly transport someone back to a jukebox or dashboard radio, this version offers a different sensation. It is like finding an extra scene from a movie you thought you knew by heart.
And Viva Las Vegas is certainly a film Elvis fans remember.
Released in 1964, it paired Presley with Ann-Margret at a moment when both possessed extraordinary screen presence. Elvis was already an international phenomenon. Ann-Margret had become one of Hollywood’s most exciting young performers, bringing her own combination of singing, dancing, acting, and sheer physical energy to the screen.
Their musical scenes crackled because Ann-Margret never seemed like decoration beside Elvis. She could match his energy.
That makes “Today, Tomorrow and Forever” particularly interesting because neither performer needs to demonstrate that energy here.
The song asks for tenderness instead.
Its emotional promise is contained in the title itself: love not merely for this moment, but across time. There is something almost old-fashioned about the sentiment, even by early-1960s standards. It is romantic without irony and sincere without needing a complicated story.
Elvis was exceptionally effective with material like this.
His voice could carry tremendous force, but some of his most revealing performances came when he pulled back. On a gentle melody, his phrasing often became remarkably intimate. He could make a movie song sound less like dialogue written for fictional characters and more like a promise being made quietly between two people.
Ann-Margret adds another dimension.
Rather than simply providing background harmony, her presence turns the performance into a conversation. Their voices have different textures, yet they complement one another naturally. Knowing how memorable their on-screen partnership became inevitably adds historical fascination, but the recording doesn’t require speculation about their private lives to work.
The music is enough.
That distinction matters because stories surrounding Elvis and Ann-Margret have sometimes overshadowed the work they actually made together. Whatever audiences may think they know about the people behind the cameras, the surviving recordings and film footage provide something concrete: two gifted entertainers responding to each other with unusual ease.
“Today, Tomorrow and Forever” captures the gentler side of that partnership.
It also reminds us of how much material Elvis recorded during his Hollywood years. Soundtrack sessions were often demanding, with songs needed for specific scenes, situations, and production requirements. Not every recording could become a single. Not every alternate version reached the public.
Decades later, those vault recordings can become small time capsules.
Imagine being an Elvis fan who saw Viva Las Vegas at the theater in 1964. Perhaps you bought the soundtrack, followed Elvis through the comeback years, watched Aloha from Hawaii, and kept those records as the decades passed.
Then, years later, another version from those sessions appears—and suddenly Elvis and Ann-Margret are young again.
The microphone is open. The tape is rolling. Hollywood in 1963 no longer feels impossibly distant.
That may be the greatest pleasure of “Today, Tomorrow and Forever.” It isn’t remembered because it dominated the charts or became one of Elvis’s signature concert numbers. Its appeal is more intimate.
It gives us another few minutes from a remarkable musical partnership that could easily have remained hidden in the vaults.
And for longtime fans, sometimes hearing one more Elvis performance from an era we thought we knew completely is its own kind of gift.