Crocodile Rock
By Michelle Brose

I didn't ever think I'd be writing this field report; it had originally looked like there would be no way I could get to the Crocodile Rock show in Allentown Pennsylvania on a Thursday night. But the temperature in Hell must have dropped drastically that night, because at the last minute I got a ride, a willing roomie, and an empty schedule for Friday. I had been so busy that day, the only thing I had eaten was a large muffin. So it was with great relief that I arrived at Crocodile Rock to see some delicious-looking food being served... and then it was with great chagrin that I realized, in my haste to get to Allentown, I had left my leather jacket with credit cards and most of my money at home. (I had enough in my bag for a cheap motel and a couple of cookies from a vending machine, so don't worry; although it was touch and go for awhile, I didn't quite starve to death.)

As it turns out, I shouldn't have worried about showing up for the 9:30 p.m. start time listed on the Red Elvises web site; when I arrived at about 9:45 some other band with a forgettable name was singing/screaming a ditty they called "Reefer Madness". Only one lone woman was dancing. For about a nanosecond I wondered if I was in the right place or if the Red Elvises had (gasp!) canceled, but a quick look around turned up many people in Red Elvises merchandise, and a disproportionate amount of plain red clothing in the room. It was clear that it was a Red Elvises crowd. The other band just didn't stand a chance.

The band finished to a smattering of applause, and canned music started playing, only slightly less offensively loud. The previously deserted dance floor began to fill up, slowly at first, and by around 11 it was full of fans. I discovered I couldn't see a thing; the throng was so dense it blocked out everything except the ceiling from my line of sight, and the dance floor was a step up so there was no hope of moving forward. The Red Elvises began playing, the joint started jumping, and I started mentally writing my review. It would probably have been an extended whine entitled "So Close, and Yet So Far", but my streak of good luck hadn't run out just yet.

As our favorite band tore into Red Lips, Red Eyes, Red Stockings, a burly man identifying himself as the owner of Crocodile Rock appeared at my left elbow. Before I knew it, he had summoned a small army of bouncers who quickly surrounded me. Now, being surrounded by muscular bouncers is usually a very bad sign, but instead they lifted my wheelchair easily and carried me through the crowd, with one running interference in front to part the Red sea. They deposited me, somewhat stunned, just to the right of the tiny stage. I was maybe 10 feet from Oleg, with a good view of Igor and Zhenya to boot. I couldn't have gotten a better spot if I had bribed the owner. (Thank you, big guy, wherever you are!)

After I gained my new perch, the Elvii started playing Suzannah, which was obviously a great crowd-pleaser. I hadn't heard that one live before. You'd think the place was filled with two-year-olds, the way we all shouted "WHY?", repeatedly, in response to Igor's laments. He drew out the long pause before the last few lines for dramatic effect, eliciting giggles from the audience when he finally sang the clinching "F*** that guy from MCI..."*

This show also marked the first time I got to hear Oleg's toe-tapping, heel-slapping (literally) rendition of Boogie on the Beach live. It looked--and sounded--great; Oleg is quite a ham onstage. I had already guessed that from glimpses during previous shows, but this was the first time I had an unobstructed view. He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at me and the other members of the audience, and Zhenya got out of the way and stood back by Avi as Oleg and Igor careened around the tiny stage in unison. Oleg somehow managed to spin around with that unwieldy partner, the balalaika (or the fifth Red Elvis, as I like to think of it).

Though the group didn't do Blue Moon, they did do a medley of Elvis songs. Gone were the glasses with the fake sideburns; Igor didn't need them because he wasn't impersonating Elvis, but channelling him instead. At one point he leaned down and kissed a young woman in the audience, who turned quite pink.

Along with the usual favorites, the Elvises played Space Cowboy and Who's Your Daddy? again, the two "new" songs I had heard them play at RiverFest. I thought Who's Your Daddy? was especially catchy and am still humming it.

Zhenya was introduced as Zhenya Rock. The scuttlebutt from the weekly Red chats is that Z has legally changed his name. (If you haven't attended a chat session yet, what are you waiting for? That's where Red Elvises fans share all the latest gossip about the band.)

Although individual Elvii would leave the stage briefly when they weren't needed, the Elvises played until about 1 a.m. without a break. Both Avi and Igor stopped by me briefly on their way off the stage to thank me for coming (yeah, as if I did them a favor!) and ask me what I thought of the show. Truly sweet and much appreciated. I felt a little silly talking to Avi; he was casually chewing on a glow stick, and I couldn't help staring at it like a dolt instead of looking him directly in the eye. I'm probably not alone; I bet many people he talked to that night probably shared a similar deer-in-headlights look when their eyes were inevitably drawn to the phosphorescence.

I left immediately after that, not only with pangs of hunger but also with twinges of nostalgia, knowing that Crocodile Rock would be the last place I would see the Red Elvises for the rest of this year, and indeed probably for quite awhile; the Elvises won't begin touring again until March of next year. Gonna be a long winter, folks. I'll content myself--for now, at least--with their CDs, the "Live on the Pacific Ocean" video, and memories of the glorious summer shows to entertain me. But those of us who live our lives with a soundtrack always humming in the back of our minds, echoing clever riffs, thrilling to each note of a good guitar solo, and soaring along with every powerful vocal are really only craving more, more, more.

* MCI provides efficient and affordable long-distance telephone service to such exotic places as Siberia and Istanbul, Turkey. We at the Red Pages love the good people at MCI, especially the telemarketers (who are all courteous, knowledgeable, and good-looking). Please don't sue us.