Long live the king!

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buy this photo "G.I. Ay, Ay Blues," El Vez's third album, was released in 1996 with a combination of tweaked Elvis songs, with a political bent like "Say it Loud! I'm Brown and I'm Proud," "Mexican-American Trilogy," and "J.C. Si Lowrider Superstar."

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  • Long live the king!
  • Long live the king!
  • Long live the king!

Once upon a time, in a parallel universe where the calibration is off by a few degrees, Elvis Presley was born again.

But somewhat further south than he was in our universe.

Actually, way further south.

Of the border.

This parallel Elvis wound up christened El Vez.

And he became a King of the world, too.

"The Mexican Elvis," in fact.

Better yet, he had fun in Acapulco in culturally meaningful ways that the Memphis-bound Elvis could only dream about.

What's more, his diet was healthier - he kept the pounds off - and to this day he has yet to leave the building.

Being the resourceful parallel-universe guy that he is, El Vez has discovered a backstage passage leading from his world to ours.

As a result, we get to sample his parallel persona at 7:30 p.m. Friday in the Bloomington Center for the Performing Arts.

Don't be cruel, Elvis fans: El Vez has been described by more than one critic as "the most intelligent" of the legions of Elvis impersonators.

Which may be a back-handed compliment since El Vez doesn't even acknowledge the term "impersonator." He opts instead for the fancier, and (he says) more truthful label of "performance artist."

Make that "postmodern performance artist," an academic sticker practically guaranteed to leave fans of the King quaking in their blue suede shoes.

"There is some confusion about what I'm trying to achieve," admits the man behind El Vez, Robert Lopez, a 47-year-old ex-punk-rocker and L.A. art gallery owner. "It can get lost in the translation."

So, to decipher: "I'm more of an Elvis translator than an impersonator."

It's a testimonial that Lopez agrees is the safer way to dance around the potentially unsettling avant-garde notion of "postmodern performance art."

The postmodern part can be chalked up to elements like Lopez's wiry frame, his pencil-thin moustache and a penchant for musical free-associating - one that that can send him spinning from a Hispanic rewrite of an Elvis classic ("you ain't nothin' but a Chihuahua") into samplings of everyone from the Beastie Boys to R.E.M. to James Brown.

And back.

They are wont to include multiple levels of meaning, involving everything from an exploration of Hispanic identity to rock's deep political tributaries (hence, the election-year "El Vez for Prez" theme of his current tour).

Giving them voice is a full-sail stage assembly that has been described as resembling the rafters-rattling style of the old Ike & Tina Turner Revue - complete with backup band, the Memphis Mariachis; sidelines singers, the El Vettes (Lisa Maria, Priscilita, Gladysita and Que Linda Thompson); and a house DJ for periodic mash-ups in which one song can morph into five more before it's all over.

As for the "performance artist" part of the El Vez persona, all you have to do is let Lopez tell his story. Once heard, there's no doubt that here's a man with an agenda that Andy Kaufman might envy.

It all began 20-odd years ago in the wake of Lopez's stint on the So-Cal punk-rock circuit, where his best known gig was as guitarist with L.A.'s The Zeroes.

By 1988, he was running a folk-art gallery on trendy Melrose Avenue in L.A. That year, he curated an Elvis-themed exhibit that opened with a show by a local Elvis impersonator.

"He wasn't very good," Lopez recalls. "I thought, 'I could do this … I could be El Vez, the Mexican Elvis.'"

As the month-long exhibit wore on, Elvis music and videos played 'round the clock and hardcore Elvis fans hung out absorbing it all.

"I remember halfway through it, thinking, 'I'm gonna hate Elvis or I'm gonna go all the way.' One day, a lady who was a really die-hard fan told me that she was going to Memphis for 'Weep-Week' (the annual commemoration of Elvis' August 1977 death at Graceland)."

Part of the festival involved an impersonators' contest.

"I dared myself to enter," Lopez says. "I had no fear because I didn't know anyone in Memphis. All my friends and family thought it was funny. I told myself I would do this once, and that it would be really funny. Twenty years later, the joke's on me."

In keeping with the performance-art end of his scheme, Lopez was writing lyrics on the plane to Memphis and practicing his Mexican accent for the first time at the hotel after he arrived (though his grandparents hail from Mexico, Lopez grew up, accent-free, in California, and had to learn Spanish by taking a class in high school).

"That was part of the beauty of it - making it up as I was going along," he says. "Part of the philosophy of performance art is 'be creative - now!"

To promote his contest appearance, he tapped his art gallery background by designing a promotional flyer that used snapshots he'd taken off a TV screen showing the movie that defined Elvis for El Vez, 1963's "Fun in Acapulco."

He remembers seeing the movie on TV as a child and thinking that Elvis Presley was, in fact, of Mexican heritage. So the "Fun in Acapulco"/mariachi Elvis became the template for his own emerging El Vez persona.

At a somber "Weep Week" candlelight vigil procession, the irreverent, tongue-in-cheek flyers were passed out. "People were crying at the vigil, and I thought, 'uh, maybe this isn't such a good idea.'"

But the flyers "were gone in 10 minutes."

The ensuing performance created "an instant buzz" that led to an L.A. Weekly account of the performance. Before he could say "gracias very much," he was on national TV, honing/making-up El Vez as he went along, in full performance-artist mode.

Twenty years later, the Mexican Elvis is now a matured cult phenomenon, with seven CDs, a raft of savvy merchandising tie-ins (he peddles everything from locks of his hair to swatches of discarded jumpsuits), dozens of talk show appearances (Oprah, Leno - the works) and opening gigs for everyone from David Bowie to Carlos Santana.

Though the wiry Lopez doesn't really resemble Elvis to the letter, the vibe is there.

"You get the rockabilly Elvis, the '70s jumpsuit Elvis, and everything in between," says Lopez.

But that's just the part on the surface that could lead the casual observer to mistake El Vez as a garden-variety Elvis impersonator.

Once an El Vez show kicks in, he says we'll sense that we're not in Kansas, or Memphis, anymore.

"I'm fascinated by the idea of this poor white man from a shotgun shack working his way to becoming the biggest entertainer of all time - that's the American Dream. Does it apply to an immigrant? Sure it does, so I've put a mustache on the American idea of what Elvis is."

His lyric rewrites of both Elvis songs and other rock classics are all infused with political overtones, social satire and explorations of the Latino experience, all "done in an entertaining style with a rocking beat."

Through it all, he says, the optimistic El Vez displays his love and regard for his parallel-universe namesake.

All well and good - but does Robert Lopez, the performance artist, love Elvis, too?

"Let's just say I love the whole mythology of Elvis: I enjoy the fact that he was a sacrificial lamb for '70s excess, and I love the idea of this poor man becoming rich beyond his dreams, with that mentality that said, 'OK, now let me have a gold bathtub.'

"As a musicologist and a social thinker, I really do love the whole myth."


Viva Las El Vez

Real name: Robert Lopez

Real home: Chula Vista, Calif.

Real age: 47

Former gigs: Fearless So-Cal punk rocker (Boneheads, The Zeroes, Catholic Discipline, The Johnnys, etc.); fearless Melrose Avenue art gallery curator

Current gig: Fearless performance artist inhabiting a mustachioed, skinny, postmodern, social activist, tongue-in-cheek, punk, Mexican Elvis (not necessarily in that order)

Awful truth: Didn't speak Spanish until he learned it in high school

Ugly lie: He's an Elvis impersonator

Even so: "… the world's most intelligent Elvis impersonator." - Chicago Sun-Times

Marquee mantra: The Cross-Cultural Caped Crusader Singing for Truth, Justice and the Mexican/American Way

Non-Elvis grooming holdout: Pencil-thin mustache

Muy bien marketing tools: Pre-packaged locks of EV hair ($3, "complete with deluxe Zip-locked bag"); fabric swatches from EV clothing worn on stage ($3, mounted "on an info card")

Favorite jumpsuit sequin arrangement: Virgin of Guadalupe

Girls! Girls! Girls!: Performs with The El Vettes (Lisa Maria, Priscilita, Gladysita, Que Linda Thompson)

CD samplings: "G.I. Ay! Ay! Blues," "Graciasland," "You Ain't Nothing But a Chihuahua," "En el Barrio," "Misery Tren,"

Promise, promises: "When you come to an El Vez show, you walk away proud to be a Mexican. Even when you're not."


At a glance

What: El Vez (with the El Vettes and the Memphis Mariachis)

When: 7:30 p.m. Friday

Where: Bloomington Center for the Performing Arts, 110 E. Mulberry St.

Tickets: $14.90 to $24.50

Box office number: (866) 891-9992

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