Red Elvises in Russia
May 2006
By Sarah Savoy
The hardest working band in America returned home to Russia this summer for their annual tour. Eight shows in a single month in Moscow alone, with numerous others throughout the vast country that is “Mother Russia.”
Unfortunately, I was only able to catch two shows this time around due to my conflicting work schedule. This is my fourth year seeing the Elvises in Russia, my eighth year seeing them at least one a year.
The first show was at Hard Rock Café, Moscow, where I did see them once two years ago. It was then that I learned that these shows would be too crowded and decided to skip this year.
So the first show I caught was Friday night, May 12th, at Tabula Rasa. The Rattlesnakes, a St. Petersburg/Moscow rockabilly band opened up for them. Apparently, the reputations of a few Elvises’ songs have spread even to the most uninformed, because right after the opening band’s first song I heard a lone voice bleating out a request for “My Love Is Killing Me.” I hope the guy stuck around for his education in “Kick Ass Rock’n’Roll from Siberia.”
Red Elvises took the stage to the fanatic reception of a full house of impeccably dressed, dance-crazed Russians. With Oleg blowing kisses and working his eyebrows, Elizabeth (keyboards and accordion) in a slinky red dress that only she could possibly pull off so well, Artem’s (sax) outfit outshadowed by the most enthusiastic grin I’ve ever seen him wear, Sergei (drums) rocking a pencil-thin mustache and a red “budyonovka” hat, Igor took the stage with that signature zebra-striped shimmy for the swooning Red-head honeys at the foot of the stage. “Love Pipe” lit the crowd to burn through a non-stop two hour set that included covers of Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game” and, one of every rock ’n roller’s anthems, Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Good.”
I had brought along two close friends, Sergei and Carolina, who enjoy little more than electronic dance music. After a couple years of teasing each other’s tastes in music, I finally won the debate. Thanks to Red Elvises, they were forced to agree that my music is better, more fun, more danceable, more exciting, and more alive, and that there’s certainly nothing old or stale about it. In the opening measures of “Wicked Game,” while I screamed excitedly and loudly enough not only to get the people around me turning their heads but also to get one of those famous ear-to-ears from Oleg, Carolina nearly passed out. I’m really not sure she so much as inhaled during the song, so much was she captivated by Mr. Romeo Yuzov. Meanwhile, Sergei was so taken by Igor’s faces as he worked opposite sides of the crowd during the intro to “Kosmonavt Petrov” that he called us for days after the show, swearing he’d die a happy man if he saw just one more Red Elvises concert.
Of course we delivered. (Aren’t we all willing enough to do whatever we want just to make our friends happy?)
I had never before been to Black & White, but it’s one of those clubs in which only the strongest bands can survive with any dignity. Luckily, past experiences seeing the Elvises left us no cause for concern. The stage was a little loft on the same level as the main bar, just across an opening that looked down into the dance pit. Although the bar area featured cozy booths covered in zebra-striped throws, the club was dark and dingy.
In Lafayette, Louisiana, a small city I called home for many years, there was once a club (at which, by the way, Red Elvises did once play) called the Rinky-Dink, perhaps deserving of a place on a list of the Top 10 most aptly-named clubs. If Black & White wants an idea for a name-change, I think I’ve got one. In all fairness, I want to point out that I generally like dives like these because they’re less uptight. Maybe they’ve got shortages of ice and limes, maybe the sound bounces around until you’re only hearing the beginning of a song when the band is ending it, maybe they reek of stale smoke and moldy, beer-saturated carpets, maybe the band is blinded by flesh-searing spotlights—okay, but they are also laid back and a little more fun because the attitude is contagious and people tend to let go a little more in this environment.
The opening band, Rocket 88, opened once for the Elvises last year at a festival dedicated (for some reason I never was able to really figure out) to American Independence Day. The singer plays keyboard and they’ve got a guitarist, stand-up bassist, and drummer. I can’t say I’ve heard them do any originals, but they did improve a hundred times over since the last time I saw them.
There were already a good number of dancers cutting across the floor and I wondered how on earth there’d be enough room for them all once the Elvises started. Two couples were awarded CDs, but I couldn’t figure out what they were—not Red Elvises and I don’t think they were from Rocket 88 either. During the set change, two signed copies of “Lunatics and Poets” were auctioned off, the bidding starting at 50 rubles (currently equivalent to about $1.90). The bid climbed to 100r, then 200r, then 500r before being sold for 660r to a guy who bid 666r.
I’m sure that having eight shows in the same city in only 2 1/2 weeks must be challenging for a band, even for one with such a wealth of material as Red Elvises, but this show was completely different. Igor tossed a gold lame jacket over his zebra stripes and Elizabeth prowled the stage in a black and gold marbled velvet sleeveless short-shorts number with a turned-up flared collar that reminded me, interestingly enough, of Graceland’s Jungle Room furniture. In other words, jaws dropped, and for good reason.
This was, as far as I can recall, my first time seeing the band play “It’s a Wonderful Night,” which I believe immediately followed “Love Pipe” this time around. I’ll be forever grateful to Rocket 88 for having requested “My Darling Lorraine,” since it’s one that rarely makes it into the band’s sets here and happens to be my absolute favorite. Although “Wicked Game” wasn’t played at this show, I think I’d be satisfied with a one-song performance of Red Elvises if ever I really had to be, provided that the one song included the line “happy like bubbles in champagne.” The crowd went wild for “Natasha Loves Reggae” and I thought surely the pumping arms of the little man in the DRI t-shirt were either going to fly right off or get tangled in his wicked wet noodle legs. “Moscow Maniacs” tees made a funny costume for a dancefloor line of backup singers for “Juliet” and I had at least two people almost fall over onto me from dancing so hard to “I Wanna See You Bellydance,” which, despite, the lack of stage space, I don’t think the audience would have let the band get by without playing.
The show was quite a bit shorter, a little less intense, much warmer and more personal, and equally amazing and thrilling…and of course there was that “Lorraine” thing, which left me struggling quite a good deal with my voice the next day. Yet again, Red Elvises have proven to be glittering professionals despite the annoyances of a cramped stage and over-zealous lights. Some things (as well as some people) just don’t age.
My phone was ringing the next day. It was Sergei calling to ask if we could make it to the last show in Moscow, May 31 at Apelsin. I’m afraid I wasn’t able to, but he went anyway. I could have sworn he had tears in his voice when he called to tell me all about it today, regretting that he wouldn’t see them again until next year.
|