The onus of being Elvis
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There are plenty of ways for parents to ruin a child's life before the child can have any say in the matter: Mom could booze it up while pregnant, Dad could leave the baby sitting in front of the microwave, or they could both commit the most inexcusable of crimes against infants and give their little bundle of tax breaks a stupid name. And while the current generation of breeders has ensured a hellish adolescence for all the Apples, Bronx Mowglis, and Pilot Ispektors of the world, those kids have nothing on the ones named after the famous and/or infamous. Decider has sympathy for anyone named "Adolf" after 1939 (unless they're the proud spawn of white supremacists, in which case they can fuck off), and it has even more for anyone named "Elvis" born after 1956—like Elvis Perkins, the recording artist (he's not a big fan of the term "singer-songwriter") of Elvis Perkins In Dearland, playing tonight at The Parish. Because no matter how you slice that fried peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich, it's going to taste like pressure to be great. Here's why.
The blue shadow will fall all over town (and your life)
Perkins is a unique case in terms of post-Sun Records Elvises in that he's lived for 33 years under the umbra of not only Elvis Aaron Presley but also his parents, Anthony "Norman Bates" Perkins and photographer/actress/model Berry Berenson. While not trading directly off of the family name, Perkins hasn't exactly fled the shadow of his family tree; his father's death of AIDS and his mother's death on Sept. 11 have largely influenced his doom-tinged folk.
The best way to avoid the unrealistic expectations that stem from being a pop musician named Elvis is to be the exact opposite of The King Of Rock 'N' Roll. Presley may have committed some mournful tunes to tape, but nothing like the Dearland track "Shampoo." Perkins' bookish looks also fly in the face of the young Presley's image as sex incarnate, a lesson he might have learned from the original "other Elvis," Elvis Costello. Costello's challenges to the throne extend beyond hiding "Elvis is king" in the checkerboard cover of My Aim Is True—what Village Voice critic Frank Rose would term the singer-songwriter's "avenging dork" personality, a constantly conflicted self-image that actively railed against the rock 'n' roll status quo, all the while coveting its more lurid temptations (hence nearly all of Armed Forces).
Despite setting several passing records at the University Of Michigan, former Pro Bowl quarterback Elvis Grbac might as well have been named Rodney Dangerfield Grbac for the lack of regard he received in the NFL. (No regard at all!) It didn't help that Grbac was constantly being tapped as a predecessor: first for San Francisco 49ers Hall Of Famer Steve Young (who himself had to make good on the legacy of Joe Montana) and later for Trent Dilfer, who had led the Baltimore Ravens to a Super Bowl ring the season before Grbac joined the team. At the end of a 2001 season whose highlights included a concussion and a constant stream of "Elvis has left the building" jokes, Grbac retired.
You've got to be a man, you've got to take a stand
Sharing your name with an icon of virility like "The Pelvis" could cause even the most secure man to question his own masculinity, so it's unsurprising to find Elvises racing cars, playing rugby, and squaring off in the UFC ring. The most accomplished sporting Elvis, however, is a figure skater: Canada's Elvis Stojko, who won the silver medal in men's singles at the '94 and '98 Winter Olympics. With his hockey hair and martial arts-inspired routines, Stojko put a little hair on figure skating's chest, something he's actively attempting to do in his current campaign to "masculinize" the sport. (Read: Make it less "gay.") Not that he's insensitive toward figure skating's homosexual following; as he told ABC News, "It's not that men's skating has to totally obliterate the gay guys that are skating or the gay public that's watching it. It's trying to find a balance to male skating." Someone should introduce Stojko to Miss California…
Please, let's forget the past
It's hard out there for an Elvis, but it's always been that way. As if they knew another Elvis' name would one day shine from stage lights and ironic/reverent clothing accessories, Celtic Christians essentially lost all record of Saint Elvis of Munster, aside from the fact he baptized Saint David, patron saint of Wales. But Saint Hunka Hunka Burning Love was upstaged even in his biggest moment, when the baby Peter reportedly splashed holy water in the eyes of a blind man and restored his sight. (BABY MIRACLE!)
Prehistoric creatures can't escape from not being Elvis either: When the Jurassic predator Cryolophosaurus was discovered in 1991, paleontologists referred to it as "Elvisaurus" due to a pompadour-like crest on the dinosaur's skull. And who said T. Rex was the king of dinosaurs?
