How Elvis Presley wound up in a ski town in Ontario is anyone's guess. But every summer the King is alive and well at the Collingwood Elvis Festival, a four-day celebration of jumpsuits, sideburns and hits billed as "The world's largest Elvis festival."
Across venues ranging from an outdoor parking lot to a Pizza Hut, hundreds of Elvis impersonators entertain fans with renditions of Teddy Bear, Heartbreak Hotel, Burning Love and other classics.
Some of the impersonators, officially known as "tribute artists," are simply there to entertain the crowds, while others are competing to be crowned the champion of their respective category, including "Youth," "Professional," Non-Professional," and "Inspirational Gospel."
All the tribute artists, however, are slotted in to one of two categories: There are the "Early Years" Elvises, many of whom favour the black leather jacket made famous by the young and handsome King; and the "Concert Years" Elvises, almost all of whom wear a jumpsuit. People can't help falling in love with this stuff.
During a qualifying round of competition, a few hundred people sitting on lawn chairs in a parking lot watched as tribute artist after tribute artist took to the stage to belt out their best Elvis song.
Bill Gallant, sporting a white jumpsuit and quite impressive sideburns, thrust his hips with gusto during his performance of Proud Mary.
Matt Martin, a tribute artist from London, Ont., followed with My Way. He used his windmills judiciously and when he was done, like many before and after, said to the crowd in southern drawl, "Thank you very much."
This is a good year for Elvis fans. To celebrate the 75th anniversary of the King's birthday, there is music and merchandise galore for fans to grab, including The Complete Elvis Presley Masters, a 30-CD set that comes with all 711 master recordings released during Elvis' lifetime and 103 rarities ranging from alternative takes to rehearsal jams and radio recordings. The set also comes with a 240-page hardbound reference book.
But watching one Elvis impersonator after another, it's not just the music you hone in on, it's the finer points of impersonation. For instance, who raises their hand up high for dramatic effect? Whose jumpsuit looks most authentic? Who really feels the soulful longing at the heart of Can't Help Falling in Love? Whose hips really capture the spirit of Shake, Rattle and Roll?
There's also the entertainment of sussing out the rules of Elvis impersonation. For example, it seems that those in the "Early Years" category can't do the King's late-career material since that would violate the time-space-Elvis continuum. As well, it also appears to be the case that most impersonators, at least the adults, choose either "Early years" or "Concert Years" based on body shape. If you're even close to being thin, you're "Early Years," but if you've got a paunch well, it's a jumpsuit for you.
Watching one doughy man in a white jumpsuit sing an Elvis song followed by another and another and another, all day and night, might make some people feel like lacing up their blue suede shoes and running as far away as they can. But I found it strangely hypnotizing. When a tribute artist steps onstage and has a voice and demeanour eerily like the King's, the crowds go wild and you can't help thinking, "Wow, this guy is good."
Of course, the fantasy comes crashing down in those awkward moments when a tribute artist proves he's no Elvis Aaron Presley. One such moment came at a theatre on the town's main street, where a couple of singers were performing whole sets of Elvis tunes. One of them was doing fine until he hit a long musical interlude during Burning Love where no singing was required. He could have danced, I suppose, but he clearly wasn't comfortable doing so. Instead he just stood there.
"I never know what to do at this point," he told the crowd.
Still, he redeemed himself nicely thanks to a spot-on rendition of Something. People in the crowd started clapping like they were watching Elvis himself.
Back out on the main drag, a pink Cadillac was driving up the street and a '57 Chevy was parked near the main stage. It seemed as if just about everybody was wearing fake sideburns or big, silver-framed sunglasses. There were Elvises everywhere. So too was his music.
The King is gone but he's not forgotten.