Part 1: Elvis World Cup, Cardiff, 4th July 2010
Firstly, I must apologise for my absence - my computer broke. Now, we're back in action I am starting a short series of posts on Elvis, here, there, everywhere. I've already mused on the King's Irishness, and a little on his appeal to the Welsh. Wales, there's a good place to start. Wales in the context of the Elvis World Cup.
Behind every succesful Elvis enterprise in these isles is an amiable chap in a Hawaiian shirt. His name is Peter Phillips and he has it well wrapped up in Wales. Wales, with its natural resource pool of Elvis fans is just so, well, Elvisy.
So it was that an unwitting photographer from Brockley ended up driving me to Cardiff one July day on the (as it happens unfulfilled) promise that we might get to see the sea. In the week preceeding, Tredegar, Porthcawl, Cardiff and Bridgend had hosted various Elvii performances. The day before, an open-top bus toured Cardiff with an awful lot of Elvis wigs, aviators and jump-suits.We arrived for the final. St David's Hall wasn't full exactly full - Wales is suffering from the recession - but a jolly crowd of the usual suspects for this kind of thing. Yes, the Welsh women in abundance - home territory.
There were supposed to be twelve Elvii, but Simon 'The Rebel' Patrick, mysteriously representing Spain, was a no-show. Perhaps their success in the football World Cup had waylaid him somewhere. Or perhaps he just wasn't Spanish.
Each Elvis gets two songs on each, there's already been a gospel heat and an 'own song' heat. They're judged on movement, stage performance, singing, and their overall tribute. Then the judges - led by Executive Judge, Terri Grant, 'the most respected Elvis judge in the business' - narrow it down to three. They get another chance and then we have a winner. 'Elvis is gone,' says Terri in the programme notes, 'We are not looking for perfection, but someone who has put together a respectful tribute to Elvis'. Terri has been judging Elvis competitions independently for ten years now so she should know. Your compere for the evening is after-dinner speaker, Brian Voyle-Morgan.
Dean Mack, representing Wales, isn't there either - but you couldn't have the home nation Elvis-less, so Darren 'Graceland' Jones of Cymbran steps into the breach. Darren 'Graceland' Jones isn't very mobile. But those jumpsuits can be difficult customers. [Nevertheless, Terri says 'getting the moves right and relevant is important'.]
USA: James Wages. 47, from Texas. Up first, 'from the home of the brave and the land of the free' says, Voyle-Morgan, it's the 4th of July after all. Wages has been Elvising in Wales and sees some similiarities with Afghanistan, Merthyr Tydfil is a bit like Helmand province. This quip doesn't stop someone shouting "Sexy!" which is funny since my notes say "good but not sexy". There's no accounting dor taste. He wishes all his Elvis brothers luck and sings Polk Salad Annie and I'll Remember You. He's in a red jump suit and is older than Elvis ever was. He does the old scarf ritual to the detriment of the mental health of two young boys, one of whom gets a scarf while the other is stuck in a spotlight as Wages retreats, having run out of scarves.
Australia: Mark Andrew. Age 43 of Melbourne. 12,500 miles to sing Elvis in Cardiff. Not the worst trip in the world, said Brian Voyle-Morgan. Now, Polk Salad Annie, by Tony Joe White, was a staple Elvis number in the live shows of the 1970s and it is a staple of the Cardiff World Cuppers. As is Mark's other offering You've Lost That Loving Feeling.
Canada: James Gibb. Age 39, from Ontario. James has a great voice but he makes an odd Elvis.
England: Paul Molloy. 39 from Lancashire, currently residing in Manchester. Elvis got Paul back on track according to the notes, so the sinister shout, and the even more sinister way it silently sinks in, of (Welsh accent) 'David Cameron!', is a bit cruel. 'I think you came to the wrong theatre', he sweetly comes back. But never mind, the England flags are up and he does a rousing Heartbreak Hotel and Houndog. If I were Terri (who has big hair, big glasses and looks fierce) I wouldn't think he was mobile enough.
Germany:
Oliver Steinhoff. Age, nevermind age, height: GIANT. The woman behind me, who is large herself, sighs, as Oliver does a gravitationally challenging pelvic thrust, 'Oh yes'. He's in a white suit and when he does the hackneyed 'I hope this suit don't tear up baby' during Suspicious Minds, I hope not too; I don't expect High & Mighty stock too many. And in case you're interested, he's also 39.
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| Oliver Steinhoff: Lichtburg Essen 25.01.2010 |
Ireland: Tom Gilson. Age, 40. We know him remember? The winner of the Irish nationals at Bundoran. 'Elvis means everything' says Tom, 'respect and consideration'. He's in his gold lame with a nice pair of white shoes. He moves like, like, er, Elvis! His Blue Moon of Kentucky and That's Alright Mama get everyone going. The Irish flags come out, unfortunately obscuring the judge's view.
South Africa: James Marais. 37 from Kraaifontein, Cape Town. What does Elvis mean to James? "Everything! He is why I am, and what I am, today." James does serious leg-jiggling and has purpose. He's in a white tassly suit and is big. He sings That's Alright and Lovin' You.
After-dinner speaker, Brian Voyle-Morgan introduces the band, Red Alert. "They don't play period instruments," says the photographer. It's true they don't, and maybe they should. He introduces the backing singers, "The two finest white backing singers", which doesn't sound as good as he intended. Mills & Boon hoist up their boobs and roll up the sleeves of their cardigans, and say "We are in fact black." They are in fact splendid. Is there a fan club? I may join. He compounds my dislike at this point by making a hilarious joke about how you couldn't possibly have lady Elvii. Possibly Terri would combust and St David's mightn't be the place, but by that token, can we really have 47-year old Elvii, or giant Elvii? Just throwing it out there, along with this from Elvis Herselvis: "Straight men are very intimidated by a woman impersonating Elvis. It is one of the last bastions of masculinity - the right to 'do' Elvis. ... I personally think he was very queeny, in the 1950’s he wore make-up and pink, on stage when that was unheard of behaviour for a straight man."
Italy: Ricky Rogers. 25 from Abergavenny. Yes Abergavenny, now living in Rhymney. Not Rimini, Rhymney. What to tell you about Ricky? He's in Comeback leathers, and occasionally there are flashes of Elvisy rrrrrr from Ricky, but then he loses his nerve and pulls his jacket down as if he's worried his belly's showing. Viva! Says Ricky, who does have a lot of home (Welsh) support here. Mills & Boon - you remember them from Bundoran too don't you? - are having fun. Yes, despite the ill-fitting leathers, Ricky is popular. Hound Dog and All Shook Up. Earlier, Ricky sang Heartbreak Hotel off the top of a bus. In the daytime he works in Ebbw Vale cash'n'carry. He's second generation Italian and was turned on to Elvis after watching Jailhouse Rock. He's rocked ever since really.
Malta:
Gordon Elvis. 26 from Naxxar, now living in Tamworth. For Gordon, Elvis was a 'great loving man' and for Cardiff, Gordon appears to be the popular underdog. He is certainly the skinniest Elvis I've seen; in his white jumpsuit there's nothing to him, it might all slide down his non-existant snakehips if he keeps moving (tick) like that. He sings Walk a Mile in my Shoes and Bridge Over Troubled Waters and my companion says, 'here's the funny thing, I've got goosebumps'. Gordon has a fabulous voice. You can hear it and see him dancing
here.
Scotland:
Johnny Lee Memphis. 35, from Coalsnaughton, where he runs a health and fitness centre. We've met him before, downing gin before winning over Donegal. Johnny has a fanatical aunt Helen who introduced him to the music of Elvis, and Elvis is like the uncle he's never met, that he respects, loves and follows in the footsteps of. So Johnny Lee Memphis is in a tiger jump-suit, grr. He delivers a Big Boss Man and a My Way that do put him top of the league, if not in a league of his own.
We have a little break and Mike Nova - Bossa Nova Elvis - does a little turn. And then the judges are ready. Terri has spoken. We are down to three. Brian lines up the boys. It's not a suprise that Johnny Lee makes the break, and then Tom Gilson, who really has the monopoly on rock'n'roll Elvis. And here, Terri seems to have gone for ol' snake-hips - Maltese Elvis! It's a popular choice. He does have a terrific voice. They all get another number, and the pressure's on, they all pull a little extra out of the hat. Tom does a splendid Jailhouse Rock. Gordon Elvis gives us Polk Salad Annie (again), and his tassly belt slips off, "Come on you Malteser!!" someone screams. But Johnny, arrogant and catlike in his total self-belief delivers a flawless I Got a Woman with plenty of movement, stage performance (playing the crowd and the band), great singing and therefore his overall tribute is by far and away the best. Yes, you guessed it. Scotland has won the World Cup! "I can't believe I won. To come top in such a class field of Tribute artists is amazing", he said to his local rag. I don't believe he can't believe it, and am pleased he likes his trophy. It's like a real World Cup.
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| Johnny Lee Memphis: Scotland conquers Wales |
The male voice choir strike up the national anthem. And off we go.
Thanks: Matthew Bookshelves and Angie.
Pics: Oliver Steinhoff: http://www.oliver-steinhoff.de/Elvis_Imitator,Double,Show/Bilder/Seiten/Lichtburg_Essen_25.01.2010.html#26; Johnny Lee Memphis: http://web.absoluteelvis.com/
The Elvis monkey is among a couple of hundred species previously unknown to those that know about these things highlighted in a new WWF report on the Greater Mekong area of South East Asia. It might also be reported as the noseless Michael monkey no?
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The crowd at the 100 Club are a mixed bag - a few glamorously adorned 50s-stylettes with their chaps, a rock chick who may not exactly be willing but is dutifully humouring her Kiss-tattooed rocker boyfriend. A few long-standing El Vez fans who may have been waiting ten years for this. There are no apparent Welsh female Elvis fans but who knows? On come the Elvettes - El Vez's version of Mills & Boon - two matching very lovely backing singers, one older - she's been with him for years, and one younger, a recent exile from the world of academic animal sciences apparently - and the Memphis Mariachis, El Vez's band. Then bounds on the man himself - Robert Lopez - who's punk beginnings are ever present in the energy and attitude of the show. He's all gold suited and beautifully accessorised by the Elvettes. He kicks off with a phrenetic whiz through Chicanized Elvis - Huaraches Azules (Blue Suede Shoes), then Burning Love, then His Latest Flame (Marie's the Name) or Mara se llama su neuva flame, which morphs into the Ting Ting's That's Not My Name and then into Hey Mickey.
As El Vez shape-changes into James Brown, and break-dances The Night Train, those still expecting an ETA are surely combusted or converted. Then he's off again. The Mariachis and the Elvettes keep the beat and then the girls are off too, but there's no let-up. El Vez is back, in gltzy blue, followed by the girls. The tempo calms, and we are given that impersonator favourite, In The Ghetto, oh hold on, En El Barrio. In El Barrio, Estaban cruises, joins a gang, for there's one thing that he can't stand, and that's to have to join a Mariachi band, en el barrio. Then from Bossa Nova we go to Champagne super novas and then back to the ghetto, you gotta work to keep up with El Vez. In "'Think Globally, But Better to Act Elvisly': Elvis and El Vez", Hanjo Berressem has written that El Vez's hybrid musical flexibility, with its nuanced appropriation of anyone from Toni Basil to Oasis to mariachi to metal, is a "a pleasurable camp process: a joyous mixture of images, in which the blurring of representational and cultural borders allows for a critical position that operates from within the predominant images and thus out of the host cultures. The camp identity is that of a multiply split personality, operating in the over-coded no man's land between cultural lines and demarcations." We can argue about Americanization and globalization, but these are borderlines that we recognise. It is a pleasurable camp process, but in no way a light one. Camp has a history of transgressive reflexivity and reflectivity.
The Elvettes are splendidly statuesque, El Vez is in starts and stripes. Tonight, his response to Arizona's draconian anti-immigration policy which allows police to violate civil liberties willy nilly, is delivered in the vehicle of Nina Simone's Mississippi Goddamn, or Arizona Goddamn. El Vez uses Elvis (e los otres) as a recognisable and blank plate in which to surreptitiously, but also extravagantly place another kind of all-American dish - one that is peculiarly palatable to the sector of society that claim a protestant pedigree, but oddly unrecognised where it concerns the workforce that are really 'taking care of business' - the labour forces who are often drawn from immigrant labour.
