In 1974, Elvis was smack in the middle of his most prolific touring years, while simultaneously touring the middle years of the prescription pill addiction that ultimately led to his death. It was during this time that his manager, Colonel Tom Parker, was looking for something to sell to the crowds at his sold-out shows beyond the usual trinkets (fake sideburns, those big gold sunglasses, XXXXL sequined jumpsuits, the usual). He finally settled on putting together a live Elvis album. The problem with this plan was that Presley's record company, RCA records, owned the rights to all of the songs in his catalog. Releasing them would require paying royalties out the ass.
This is Colonel Tom Parker. He doesn't like to fuck around.
Fortunately for The Colonel's ass, Elvis was a touring machine, and there was enough recorded material to fill out an album without having to pay royalties. Unfortunately for everyone else's ass, this required the printing and distributing and an album without any actual music on it.
No music for you and Mr. Buttons, little Suzie!