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Articles - Isn't that Elvis?
By Jennifer Gampell
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What drives normally sane
middle-aged men to don gold lamé jumpsuits and gyrate on
stage?
The "King of Rock 'n Roll" is a monarch dear to the hearts
of many Thais. In a country where posters of the best-loved
members of the Thai royal family outsell pop idol images,
one enormously popular sepia-colored photo depicts their
majesties the King and Queen of Thailand in Hollywood on the
set of G.I. Joe. The year is 1960 and the royal couple,
seated casually between a young Elvis dressed in army
fatigues and actress Juliet Prowse, face the camera. King
Bumiphol and Queen Sirikit are listening intently as
America's own homegrown version of royalty--Elvis
Presley--leans toward them.
Forty years after that photo was taken and nearly a quarter
of a century after Elvis "left the building" in 1977, the
famous sideburned crooner still elicits a surprisingly "big
hunk o' love" from Thais of all ages. On practically any
night of the week, an Elvis impersonator somewhere in
greater Bangkok is gyrating to a perennial Presley favourite
like "Hound Dog," "Jailhouse Rock" or "Love Me Tender."
Performing in swank hotel lounges, raucous nightclubs or
modest neighbourhood bars, this stalwart band of Thai
Elvis's work hard to keep alive the memory of their
brown-eyed handsome man.
Why do Thais love Elvis and want emulate him? "He sings
good, moves well, has style and looks handsome," explains 57
year-old Visoot Tungarat, the country's oldest and most
celebrated Elvis. In 1998 MTV named him "Elvis Asia," but to
several generations of adoring Thai fans, the still-handsome
man with the wavy dyed hair and expanding midriff is better
known as "El-Visoot."
Visoot has been bringing Elvis to life for an amazing 42
years--since 19 years before Elvis passed on. His modest
house in the Bangkok suburbs sits behind a miniature version
of the gate at Graceland, Elvis' Memphis mansion. Inside the
makeshift studio are four decades' worth of recording
technology (reel-to-reel tape recorder, synthesizer, MIDI
player) plus the complete Elvis discography on vinyl, tape
and CD. Thirteen exact replica jumpsuits--each bead and
sequin meticulously sewn on by Visoot himself--hang rather
unceremoniously under the stairwell. Among the myriad Elvis
images covering the downstairs walls and ceiling, one
particular head shot stands out. It takes a few seconds to
register that the gorgeous young hunk with the smoldering
eyes isn't the real Elvis.
Most Elvis impersonators enjoy the security of other
jobs--as bank clerk, nightclub manager, TV actor, government
official. One even does Tom Jones and Englebert Humperdink
knockoffs. Only Visoot has devoted his entire life to being
Elvis. During the Vietnam war, he sang for the American
G.I.s stationed at bases throughout Thailand. He fondly
remembers how the soldiers knew the words to every Elvis
song. "When you sing for Thai people you cannot sing deep,"
he says sadly. "Only the popular songs."
Thailand's undisputed Elvis king performs at parties, on TV
specials, in clubs and for his friends at home. He once
tried to run a club on the outskirts of Bangkok, but with
more talent than business sense he couldn't turn a profit
and closed it down. To replenish his spirits (not to mention
his pocketbook) Visoot travels regularly to Scandinavia,
Europe and the U.S. where he consistently wows international
audiences with his remarkable Elvis-ness.
The only other Graceland gate in Thailand belongs to Vasu
Sangsingkeo. By day in his role as secretary to deputy
foreign minister Sukhumband Paribatra, the slender 32
year-old wears somber pin-striped suits and a Patek Philippe
watch. By night he dons his Elvis attire and transforms into
a reasonable facsimile of the hard-driving, pelvis-thrusting
singer he's idolized for over 20 years. The personable
diplomat has a decade of experience juggling two disparate
careers: before heading off to graduate schools in the US
and the UK, he was the heartthrobbing lead singer for a
locally famous Thai rock band.
"Elvis looks familiar to everyone," is how Vasu explains the
star's ongoing popularity in Thailand. "You think of him as
your family." He describes a Thailand swarming with Elvis
devotees. "I see a lot of senior executives on the street or
in a department store and I can tell they used to be great
Elvis fans by the way they dress, how they comb their hair."
But it's not only old fogies who have Elvis always on their
minds. Last year Vasu starred in a big-budget Las Vegas
style musical about the star's life. In the space of two
hours and 14 costume changes, Vasu portrayed his idol from
his humble beginnings as a truck driver right through to his
ignominious death. Originally scheduled for an 8-performance
run in a trendy new Bangkok nightclub, the show proved such
a smash hit that it had to be extended.
In the days leading up to the anniversary of the legendary
demise on August 16, 1977, the pace of Thai impersonating
speeds up significantly. The handful of professionals and
sundry other Elvis wannabes get all shook up boppin' around
the country from one major commemorative event to another.
"Elvis Memory Lives On," probably the biggest of the annual
extravaganzas, has been going strong for 10 years. Owing to
its increasing popularity, the 1999 event was moved from the
smallish lounge-bar in the Asia Hotel where "Elvis" appears
nightly to the hotel's cavernous ballroom. Not counting all
the impromptu Elvises who turned up for the singing and
look-alike contests, the "official" contingent of nine Thais
and one Macanese was the biggest ever. The 1,200 tickets
sold out more than a week in advance.
Towards 7 p.m. on the big night, the various Elvis
paraphernalia and photo-sticker booths in the ballroom foyer
were doing brisk business. The audience, a well-heeled and
predominantly middle-aged crowd, crammed around the scores
of low tables. (Generally, Thai audiences prefer to observe
concerts from a seated position instead of rockin' out on
the dance floor.)
The miniscule dressing room near the ballroom stage was
awash in gold lamé and shimmering satin. Jumpsuits in a
variety of sizes and colors filled the single rolling rack.
Several Elvises peered into the mirror, sculpting their
thick dark locks into the traditional pompadour.
The entertainment kicked off around 8 p.m. with a desultory
version of "Can't Help Falling in Love," by a painfully shy
wannabe who intoned that "some tings are meant to be."
(Alas, this wasn't one of them.) Next up, Vasu leapt onto
the stage. Nattily dressed in black, shimmying and shaking
from behind huge clouds of synthetic smoke, he injected a
massive dose of energy into the proceedings with his
faultless renditions of Crying in the Chapel, Love Me
Tender, and an impossible-to-sit-still-for version of
Jailhouse Rock.
Interspersed with dance contests, lucky draws and official
announcements, the show rocked along as one after another
the impersonators took the stage. Consummate showman and
nightclub producer Jaruk Viriyakit (who also does Tom Jones
and Engelbert on the side) drew inspiration from the
1968-1972 period with his slick "Wonder of You" and "Girl of
My Best Friend." TV actor Jeerasak Pinsuwan who has been
singing Elvis for 30 years rendered the obscure "Lonesome
Cowboy" to a crowd who clearly didn't hear it very often.
Winner of an Elvis competition a few years back, Lek Presley
(aka Sucin Punnahitanon) turned in credible performances of
"All Shook Up" and "Kid Creole."
The youngest Elvis of the night was Nong Piraporn, a
precocious six year-old garbed in white Nancy Sinatra boots
and a micro-mini version of the famous white-caped jumpsuit.
Clutching a handheld mike, she shimmied, shook and strutted
her way through energetic renditions of "Jailhouse Rock"
(pronounced "lock") and "Hound Dog." As she placed her palms
together in the classic Thai-style wai of respect at the end
of her short set, the audience went wild.
Sometime after midnight, a flashing strobe and the theme
from 2001: A Space Odyssey announced the show's climax-- the
one and only "El Visoot." His moves may have slowed and his
girth increased but Visoot exudes an intangible sense of
Elvis that nobody else comes close to emulating. He works
the crowd, walking into the audience and talking to them as
Elvis, not Visoot. He needs no bumps and grinds to conjure
up the spirit of his hero. Standing in one spot he still
conveys the message. Visoot has Elvis SOUL.
Trying to pin down what constitutes great impersonation is a
daunting proposition. Physical resemblance and a good
costume are important components but not absolute
prerequisites of the elusive Elvis mystique. "I think some
people are born to be Elvis, blessed by God almost," says
Vasu. "They have a soul connection." Is Vasu such an Elvis
doppelganger? "No," he replies. "I'm just someone who loves
him and is happy to sing his songs."
Visoot's connection to Elvis goes much deeper. Around his
neck he wears two thick gold chains: one carries a $50
silver Elvis medallion, the other an amulet of a highly
venerated Buddhist monk. In a newspaper interview nine years
ago Visoot claimed that he and Elvis must have been related
in a previous life. He said that on stage he's experienced
moments of feeling "Elvis and I are one person."
Who knows how long the crooner will continue as the Big Boss
Man for his devoted fans IN Thailand and elsewhere in the
world. But as long as people Can't Help Falling in Love with
his universal charms and timeless appeal, it's likely
they'll be getting All Shook Up about him for a long time to
come. After all, It Feels So Right that I Just Can't Help
Believin' he'll still be around A Hundred Years From Now.
Copyright © 2000 Jennifer Gampell
www.gampell.com
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I've
never gotten over what they call stage-fright. I go through it every
show. I'm pretty concerned, I'm pretty much thinking about the show.
I never get completely comfortable with it, and I don't let the
people around me get comfortable with it, in that I remind them that
it's a new crowd out there, it's a new audience, and they haven't
seen us before. So it's got to be like the first time we go on.
Elvis Presley
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