A strange phenomenon occurred Saturday night at Merrill Auditorium, when a portion of the Portland Symphony Orchestra accompanied noted Elvis impersonator Elvis Wade and his band.

Audience members, nearly all Elvis fans, began to fancy, or to convince themselves, that it was the real thing — reaching on stage to touch the star’s hand, or swooning at his gyrations.

I never thought much of Elvis when he was alive and never attended a concert, but he was unavoidable if one listened to the radio at all, or happened to see a show on television. Based on that limited experience, Wade seems to have the moves and mannerisms down pat, while the vocals are uncannily similar.

Wade is head and shoulders above the field of impersonators because he began as a singer in his own right, so that nothing is forced in his delivery, even in the gospel shouting and typical uh-oh voice breaking. (I have to find the musical term for that, if there is one.) His deep recitative, in contrast to tenor vocals, also seems authentic.

I felt sorry for the downsized orchestra, under guest conductor Robert Franz. They got in the act only occasionally, and when they did were overpowered by a tremendous sound system — a tower of five large speakers on each side of the stage — hooked up only to the singer and his band of drummer, piano and two guitars. The sound system also ran tapes of Elvis’ group, the Jordanaires, as background.

Wade was front and center at all times, except when the spotlight wavered, and behind him, on a raised platform, was the drummer and his entire kit. The drums were flanked by a grand piano on the left and another platform, with the guitarists, on the right.

The result was that the orchestra was invisible as well as inaudible. It reminded me of their famous concert with Three Dog Night a while back. They did make a valiant effort with some jazz trumpeting and in an arrangement of “What Now My Love,” to the rhythm of Ravel’s “Bolero,” that worked very well.

Nearly all of the program was devoted to Elvis’ greatest hits, from “Hound Dog” to “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” the latter being one of the few with a real melody.

I’m sure I’m missing something, but it seems to me that the King’s music depended primarily upon his persona, which is why he has impersonators but no musical descendants. The Liszt of our time?

Most of the songs, and there are a lot of them, consist of lyrics to a characteristic shi-boom-pa beat.

Wade has an arresting stage presence too, telling jokes, drinking RC Cola and promising to try Moxie, but with a little too much of the good-ol’-boy shtick. A touch of irreverence would help, but I have a feeling that he thinks he is Elvis, or at least channeling him.

Christopher Hyde’s Classical Beat column appears in the Maine Sunday Telegram. He can be reached at:

classbeat@netscape.net.

 

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