Elvis: The Man and the Marketing

I don’t know where you stand on Elvis, but he’s everywhere at the moment; it seems that there is a significant Elvis anniversary: 30 years since he died; but since when was thirty a significant anniversary?
I have never really quite understood Elvis; I mean, for one thing, there’s no such thing as Elvis singular. There’s young Elvis, GI Elvis, LA Elvis and sad fat Elvis but not one clear Elvis identity. I can take or leave the music: he sang well - as a rock and roll singer - and could bash out a ballad well enough but I don't understand what made him so big – in the global, rather than physical, sense. The answer, I learnt from an excellent Radio 4 programme yesterday afternoon, was Colonel Tom Parker: now there’s a man you would want on your marketing team. Parker was solely responsible for converting Elvis from a man to a brand; taking advantage of the scarcity principle by preventing him ever touring outside the US and making his movies instant hits among the worldwide population who would never get to see him perform. Parker quickly spotted the potential marketing value in TV when everyone else poured scorn on it as a five minute wonder.
Sadly though, as far as I can see, there is little left of the man that was; all that seems to remain – aside from endless debates about the music – is the brand: a sort of quasi-comic phenomenon that is a mixture of karaoke and Blackpool. You only need to Google (UK) Elvis to get a flavour of it: the genuine fan sites are far outnumbered by Elvis impersonators; I even spotted a knitting pattern for an Elvis wig. During another Radio 4 Elvis programme this week there was reportage about the Elvis brand, including consideration of whether the Elvis impersonator market ought to be franchised. I almost had to pull up the car to think about this: compare the image of Elvis to that of the other massive American franchise: the golden arches of McDonalds, and you will see how weirdly possible it could be. Already the range of possible Elvis impersonator alternatives has far outstripped the imagination of even Col. Tom: for example Chinese Elvis, Black Elvis, Shmelvis (the Jewish Elvis), Elvish (the Tolkien themed Elvis), Gospel Elvis, Balloon Elvis and the lesbian Elvis impersonator Elvis Herselvis. It seems the cult is far bigger than the man.

Perhaps, in a few years time, when I am looking for a potential investment for my pension lump sum, I could do worse that an Elvis franchise myself: Oldham Elvis with his range of specially adapted hit songs like: '(Mind Me) Clogs Yer Clumsy Bugger' and 'Yer Nowt But a Whippet', the list is endless.
Oh, by the way, I made up one of the themed Elvis impersonators; can you guess which one?

Are You This Angry Man?

Listening to Saturday Live on Radio 4 this morning, I was impressed by the poet Elvis McGonagall's use of his art to purge a bad holiday experience from his system. It occurred to me that I might do the same with my blog. So if you are the large man, in his sixties, with a big white beard and a lovely head of pure white hair, who alighted from his vehicle to shout across the road that you considered me to be a thick, bald - headed, b***ard - or was it a thick headed...no, I'm sure it's the first one - then this is for you.

Had you allowed me to get a word in edgeways, before getting back into your M prefixed, Maroon Rover 216 with a National Trust sticker in the rear window, I would have explained that the reason I pulled my vehicle forward blocking the path from your junction preventing you from crossing the stream of traffic, was that you hadn't, no couldn't have seen, the ambulance that I had spotted in my mirror overtaking the stream of vehicles you were about to cross. You couldn't have seen the ambulance because your view was blocked by the big white van behind me. I can only presume that you didn't even notice the ambulance pass, because you were busy gesticulating at me and operating your audible warning instrument in an aggressive manner. Had you emerged across the stream of traffic you would have pulled into the path of the ambulance.

There now, deep breaths Crofty, that feels much better.

Oh, one more thing, I consider myself to have a mature attitude to my gradually receding hairline; but, I am most definitely not yet bald. I consider that insult to have been particularly barbed coming from one with such an obviously lush growth of hair.