‘Just close your eyes and you might as well be in church. You can hear God in that man’s voice.”
It’s Sunday morning and members of the Jo’burg branch of the EPFCA (Elvis Presley Fan Club Africa) are giving a presentation on the late King of Rock’s spiritual side. In Human Pin Code numerology, he’s a perfect nine – a combination of all the elements, which would explain his inner conflict. On a printed hand-out of his quotes is, “Take my own name, Elvis. If you play around with the letters, you come up with l-i-v-e-s. Well I guess I’m the one who did.” Elvis’s twin died at birth. Whoa, spooky!
And he certainly lives on – at least, on one long weekend in April, in Storms River at the Tsitsikamma Village Hotel, which hosted what was thought to be the first ever Elvis Festival in Africa. He was everywhere, incarnate in the eight ETAs (Elvis Tribute Artists) in rhinestone jumpsuits and lamé jackets, his face on everyone’s T-shirt, his words on everyone’s lips.
If we didn’t know all the lyrics to Blue Suede Shoes when we got there, we soon learned them. In fact, we had a head start – on the eight-hour journey from Cape Town, our driver spun his CD collection and we shaked, rattled and rolled all the way.
That was no coincidence, however, as driver Pete Pitout is also a tour guide. And Storms River, the adventure belt of the Garden Route, is on his beat. When he found out that Jan du Rand, owner of the quaint hotel complex, was an even bigger Presley fan, he said, “Man, this place could be Graceland. You can have a festival here that will rock the nation.”
And so the idea was born. Not one to treat memories of the King with anything less than reverence, Du Rand, who five years ago married his wife Ann wearing his Elvis outfit, went on to plan the mother of all Elvis fests, which, over three days, did royally rock the sleepy river village.
We met our first ETA, Doug Weich, on the night of arrival. There he was ordering a drink at the bar, all sideburns and sculpted hair. Next morning over coffee, we did a double take as we saw him chatting to raven-haired James Marais. Later, once Fanie Schoeman, Lionel Hunt, Sean Allnut and Shaky Russell were all on the scene, we were tripping over Elvises. Sans wig, funny man Tony de King was less easy to recognise with his real-life, straw-coloured, Rod Stewart hair and Manchester accent; as was Monique Cassells, for obvious reasons – until we heard her sing.
From the start, Du Rand was determined that the inaugural Elvis Festival Africa would be a blast, and no detail was spared. A cavalcade of Cadillacs and Chevvies pulled up outside the hotel.
In the town’s mini main drag, the clutch of adjoining buildings, including the Rock and Roll shop and Cadillac Shack selling Elvis Burgers, had been freshly painted in jelly-baby colours. A neon sign flashed ELVIS. At the shack, fans lined up for a photo op, sitting in a sawn-off Cadillac couch where a looped recording of the King’s own voice breathed, “Hi, I’m Elvis Presley”. Giant braai fires sizzled in the street and, from a Coke-truck stage, the ETAs gave villagers and visitors a taste of what was to come in the marquee that night.
Pink hearts tied with spotty ribbons and “Love Me Tender Lane” street signs lined the leafy walkways of the hotel and, spurred on by Ann du Rand in bandeau black and Elvis tights, a bevy of waitresses in sugar-pink wigs were a blur of motion in the restaurants, serving food from a mad memorabilia menu. In the conference centre, there were quizzes, teddy bear hunts and elv-phernalia for Africa. On the grass outside the marquee, a whole lot of shaking was going on off the back of a bucking bronco, and set up on a chalet verandah was an exhibition of E-portraits by a painter named simply Rufus.
The line-up of fringe events was nothing if not inventive. The Tsitsikamma Got Talent competition was won by a Presley-esque schoolgirl from PE, while Fanie’s three-year-old son in metre-wide sunglasses and spangled jumpsuit nearly brought the house down . The Miss Marilyn competition raised a bit of blood pressure too .
But the real glory hallelujah moment was Saturday night, when those ETAs took to the stage for real – capes, fringes and fingers flowing, lips curling, hips flicking – with Shaky Russell’s Memphis Mafia band giving it up for them all.
There had to be a winner and James Marais was chosen to go through to the Elvis Impersonator World Cup finals at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff in July. But right there, that night in Storms River, they were all winners – and what a night it was.
Lammy rejects offer from Labour Party leader Ed Miliband
