HELLVIS: THE ORIGIN STORY (PART II)
November 1st 2006 12:00
Fans came from everwhere to toast marshmallows on Hellvis's crotch
The Colonel motioned towards me for another sarsaparilla. The guy was knockin’ ‘em down fast and I hadn’t seen so much as a thank you from him yet, let alone any money. This is what he said:
“It was 1977 when the denizens of Hell finally released Jesse, all growed up, onto the scum-covered streets of Brisbane. This was the final insult concocted by Satan’s minions, as Brisbane was then under the repressive dictatorship of Joh Bjelke-Peteren. So much for freedom.
Ya may have heard that Elvis Presley died that very same year while strainin’ to take a big ol’ shit. Now as you know, this was about the time that punk rock hit really big in London and reached the public consciousness. Somethin’ about its fuck-you attitude, reductive aesthetic, and joyful nastiness appealed to Jesse. Jesse began a spiritual journey, to cleanse his tormented soul, and nothin’ did that better than the ramshackle noise of punk rock.
Life was tough for Jesse. Did I tell ya that he had grown horns on account of bein’ in Hell for all those years? Well that’s what happened, and it meant he had to learn to look after himself, with all sortsa karate moves, just like his brother. Folks at that time in Brisbane didn’t take too kindly to anyone who looked a bit different walkin’ the street, especially rejects from Hell.
Bein’ scorned and rejected at every turn suited Jesse’s punk outlook just fine, and he got turned on to Brisbane’s very own punk underground: everything from the Saints and the Go-Betweens who had just left for London; to bands like Razar, The Leftovers, and Mystery of Sixes: groups so fucked-up and low-down that they chose to stick around in Brisbane. It was goldarned masochistic.
But Jesse had to make a crust, and to get by he started impersonatin’ Elvis on the variety show circuit of the early '80s. Havin’ no other skills, he had to fall back on the only two things he had in this world: his physical likeness to Elvis, and his exhaustive knowledge of the King’s back catalogue. Jesse was pretty bitter ‘n’ twisted about what he’d gone through in Hell on account of his brother, and what better way to get back at him than to make a mockery of his name in some of the most low life dives in Queensland: the Deep North? Jesse changed up Elvis’s tunes and performed them in a punk cabaret style, spewin’ out the lyrics like the demon from Hell he was. Jesse’s act appealed to punk rockers and uni students alike, while also raising the ire of the local hillbillies and conservatives.”
I cleaned the counter as The Colonel rattled on, taking notes when I could. Parts of what he said seemed oddly familiar, like something I’d read in some Xeroxed punk zine once. But the Colonel didn’t stop long enough to accommodate such musings.
“Jesse’s act was an underground smash. On account of him bein’ a demon, Jesse was able to shape-shift and metamorphosise himself into any incarnation of Elvis he wanted: from the young sexy Elvis of the Sun era, to the fat turd-burglin’ Elvis of the days before his supposed death. Jesse would close the show by spontaneously combusting: a deed that thrilled his audience but made him a pickup truck full of enemies among club owners and publicans. Jesse had to take his act further underground, into the sweatiest and nastiest bars and clubs of Brisbane: a path that led him closer to Hell but also earned him indie cred. He took on the new name given to him by his fans. That name was Hellvis.
Hellvis performed at every dive you can imagine: from university refectories; to Leagues clubs; to pubs like the Queens Hotel, the Hacienda, and the Terminus—experiences that made his time in Hell pale in comparison, let me tell ya. It was a tough life: dodgin’ beer bottles and nasty comments about his horns, not to mention weathering the rancour of the Christian Church. Still, Hellvis kept this up for years, and things was lookin’ pretty good for Elvis’s demonic twin.
That was until he appeared at the famed Cloudland Ballroom in Bowen Hills. Now don’t ask me for proof of this, cuz the fact is no record of this event exists. Ya see, what happened was Hellvis’s act was so hot and his gyrations so lewd and lascivious, that his smoulderin’ hips set the whole venue on fire. The place was totalled, including all posters and flyers for the event. But most horrifically of all, not one audience member survived.
This suited Joh Bjelke-Petersen’s pro-development agenda just fine, and he got the Deen Brothers to demolish what was left to make way for some swanky wanky apartment complex. The government decided to keep the whole tragedy hush hush, and figured no one would miss a bunch of no-good punks anyways. This was on the 7th of November 1982.
I recoiled at this revelation. Surely I would have heard something about a massive cover-up like this. If true, it was utterly mindblowing, but it all seemed a bit far-fetched. But the most far-fetched bit was still to come.
“Ain't nothin' been heard of Hellvis after that and he was forgotten like so many cheesy night club acts and two-bit punk bands that went before him. Forgotten that is, only by the overworld. Most of Hellvis's fans were at that Cloudland gig, and sadly none of the poor bastards are around to tell the tale. But I’ve heard whispers in the piss-stained alleys and dingy bars of Brisvegas, from those who remember: those who are privy to the many dark secrets of Brisbane’s seethin’ underworld.”
I pricked my ears up. The Colonel ranted between hacks and splutters and the sound of phlegm hitting the brass sides of the spittoon, but this was starting to get interesting. The Colonel talked low and deep now, giving his words an element of importance.
Check in on Friday for the 3rd and final instalment of The Colonel’s dubious saga.
***
IMAGES
Hellvis In Concert
(image by Hellvis)
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Comment by The Voices in my Head
The Voices in my Head
A MASSIVE SHIT? THAT's HOW ELVIS DIED?? Ohhhh I sooooo did not need to know that. I was just fine thinking he died like all the greats did back in the day, (hell, errr...uhhhmmm...no disrepect intended there, Hellvis...I mean, HEAVEN, what am I saying, its how all the greats die still...) by drugs. A massive shit just takes away all the mystery, I guess. But then, it does make sense with all those fried PB and Banana sandwiches...
Thanks...
Voices~
PS I am so frazzled it just took me three times to type my own name!
Comment by Hellvis
Earache Hotel
If it's any consolation, I think the massive shit was as much caused by drugs as it was by deep-fried banana and peanut butter sandwiches. That's kinda rock 'n' roll, isn't it?
Comment by The Voices in my Head
The Voices in my Head
Well, sort of...I suppose. No...no it's not. I do not want to think of some great icon having a massive shit. No...definitely not. (god, did I spell that right?)
I mean, if we start with Elvis having a massive shit, then we must then conclude that others also had massive shits...like Marilyn Monroe and James Dean and I don't think it's right, honestly.
Tell me, completely off topic, what do you think of Marilyn Manson? He is sort of the drag version of you, isn't he?
OH GOD...I just looked over and do you realize you have a Constipation Relief advertisment to the direct left of this post? Poor Elvis...if only blogging were an option...perhaps he would still be alive...
Voices~
Comment by Hellvis
Earache Hotel
As for Marilyn Manson. I'm not the biggest fan but I did like his Antichrist Superstar album. Can't say I've heard any of his other albums in their entirity. I think he has alot of good things to say but isn't the most original fellow on the planet.
And he would be the drag version of me if I wasn't doing such a damn good job of being the drag version of me. Shhh, don't go posting that on the interent or anything.
I get a lot of great ads. I think the Earache Hotel title has something to do with it, like they think it's for medical advice. Still, if it can save one out of the thousands who die from massive shit related complications each year, my work here is done
P.S. I wonder if there's anything that says we shouldn't be talking about our ads?
Comment by The Voices in my Head
The Voices in my Head
I disagree. I mean, I accept that they have bodily functions. I just don't accept that there should be straining involved.
As for Marilyn Manson, I find him very disturbing, which thrills him to bits...he scared the shit out of me with "The Dope Show". (Dammit, Hellvis...now you have me talking about shit all the time!)
Voices~
Comment by Hellvis
Earache Hotel
Speaking of shit, let's talk some more about Marilyn Manson. I find him mildly disturbing. I saw him perform at a festival once, which wasn't bad. He puts on a great show in an Alice Cooper kinda way.
Comment by The Voices in my Head
The Voices in my Head
I don't like him but yet, like a train wreck, I can't look away when I see him. He definately is the master of darkness in the entertainment world.
I don't think I would like to see him in concert. There has to be some twisted STUFF that goes down...or no?
Of course, it's an act and he does it well. Here is a good question. Do you consider him to be a performer or an Artist?
Voices~
PS What the hell is vegemite? I just remember the song...I have no clue. Educate me, dark Master.
Comment by The Voices in my Head
The Voices in my Head
Comment by Hellvis
Earache Hotel
As for twisted stuff at his concert, well he did burn a bible. I think the twisted nature of his stage show has all been blown out of proportion. I mean he's no GG Allin.
And vegemite is Australia's native dish: basically a thick, black, salty spread that you put on toast or crackers. I heard it's actually been banned in the US, but can't remember why. Will look into this later, but I have to go and work on my short story that's due Friday.
Please do check back in; your presence is most welcome and refreshing.
Comment by Hellvis
Earache Hotel
I've come to the conclusion that Mazza Manson is an artist, just not one I terribly enjoy. His work is very contrived and theatrical, and his artistry comes as much from his music as it does from who he is. It's all very Andy Warhol.
In a sense he's as manufactured as Britney or the Backstreet Boys, but I think he manufactured himself, and he's taking more chances than those slobs ever did. For instance, it actually took some style and bravery for him to appear like he had breast implants in "The Dope Show". The same can't be said for Britney.
Has Marilyn even done anything lately, apart from conjuring up new ways to blow himself?
Comment by The Voices in my Head
The Voices in my Head
ohhhh, let's take a moment on the weird, shall we? Ok. Uhmm, you have a thick, black spread, which has been banned in my country, that you spread on toast. And you are calling us weird? Oooooookay. What does Vegemite compare to in taste that I would know?
Well, I agree with you but why do you call him Mazza?Marilyn is very contrived. It was effective at first, but how much can you go around screaming the same message about the evils of christianity before people just go..."Whatever!"
I do not know of a single thing that he has done...except, I did hear that he has officially joined the satanic church as a...I don't know...alter boy. Who knows.
As for his ability to blow himself...eww. I did like his breasts in 'The Dope Show'. It freaked me out in a fun way.
I also agree with you that being a performer doesn't necessarily prevent you from also being an artist. Michael Jackson, back in the day when no one knew he was a pedophile and only suspected it, blew me away with his videos, dancing and even his singing, although that was short lived.
Shall we agree to meet here for the continuation of our conversation to prevent you from exerting unnecessary evil powers?
Do you know that it is 6:37 p.m. on Monday when I left this comment? What is going to happen tomorrow. That's how I get my psychic ability, actually. I contact people on the other side of the world and get a heads up. But don't tell anyone.
Voices~
Comment by Hellvis
Earache Hotel
I call Marilyn Mazza because its part of the Australian genetic code to either abbreviate names, or make them longer or roughly the same length by turning Rs into Zs and adding vowels to the end. Barry becomes Bazza, Sharon becomes Shazza, and Marilyn becomes Mazza.
I like Michael Jackson. At least I did. Actually I still like his early work. I try to separate an artist's private life from their creative output and focus on the music.
I think meeting here is a good idea, although its my final week of uni so that's stopping me from exerting my evil influence a little. Did you want to know who won the Melbourne Cup? Maybe you can bet on the race tomorrow and win big.
Comment by The Voices in my Head
The Voices in my Head
Yeah, it sounds like something I have had but would rather not have...
On the separating the artist from their private life, well. That works for me about most things, well no it doesn't. I'm pretty judgmental. I admit it. Like Mariah Carey's boobs. Ughhh. Hate them. If I never seen them again, I am still going to wonder if I had a lesbian relationship with her, I've seen them so much. I digress. When an artists private life includes sexually abusing small children, may they rot in hell. Guilty until proven innocent...it's just too big of a deal and I can't move on.
I keep hearing about the Melbourne Cup. Is that like our Nascar? Do big hairy men sit around with their shirts off with their favorite driver's number shaved into the foliage on their backs?
Voices~
Comment by Hellvis
Earache Hotel
I understand why Mariah's personal life would effect your perception of her. I agree, but I think this is indicative of the wider picture and that's the plastic pop world of which she's a part. Her actions show that she is interested in selling lots and lots of records, and this usually requires you to compromise any artistic integrity you may or may not have. Like Tom Waits once said of Michael Jackson, "if you want to sell Pepsi, become an advertising executive", or words to that effect.
As someone who has experienced abuse as a child, I agree that the perpetrators should rot in hell (not my Hell, some other Hell). On the other hand I think it's important to find out what we can about what drives people to do such things. As hard as it is, not talking about it just allows it to continue.
I think Michael's own childhood had a lot to do with his own problems, whether or not the allegations are true. This doesn't change the fact that he's a great and influential performer. This is why I try not to elevate artists I admire to god status because they are only human, and are all probably complete arseholes anyway. Fuck the lot of them. "Love the art not the artist" is my motto, but I'm not above a little hero worship myself.
The Melbourne Cup might be a bit like your Nascar, except they ride horses. Ladies wear ridiculous hats and do silly things from drinking too much sparkling wine. Guys wear ridiculous suits and do silly things from drinking too much beer. It doesn't involve shirtless big hairy men as far as I can tell, but I'm sure our Indy 300 would be where to go if you're looking for that kind of action.
Comment by The Voices in my Head
The Voices in my Head
I will PM you with my thoughts on Michael's childhood.
When you speak about the Melbourne Cup, I am picturing the scene in 'Pretty Woman' where Julia Roberts is wearing the brown polka dot dress and she barks like Arsenio Hall...
Mariah Carey is just gross all the way around. I want to slap her. (I reserve the right to say that I want to slap her...Freedom of Choice and all that.) So many disclaimers to be written right now. There are spats breaking out all over the place! I just hope Jon and Jasmine don't find out..we will all be grounded for sure!
Voices~ Hey...would my name be like, Voizza?
Comment by The Voices in my Head
The Voices in my Head
Comment by The Voices in my Head
The Voices in my Head
Comment by Hellvis
Earache Hotel
Yep, that scene from Pretty Woman is pretty much the Melbourne Cup in a nutshell, without the horses and the gambling. Julia Roberts reminds me of a crocodile, but that's neither here nor there.
Mariah is pretty gross. She has talent, but talent doesn't impress me unless its put to use in something that interests me. What Mariah does just doesn't interest me.
I've been away for a while, finishing up the semester at uni and attending the end of year gala which was also the launch of our end of year anthology where my short story was published (yay me). Will have to wade through the comments and catch up on all the spats of which you speak.
Hellvis has left the building.
P.S. Not sure what your name would be in Strine. I think it needs to have an R in it to go through the ZZA conversion. VOICO might be more like it, but it's a tough one. You may just be called VOICES, or a TOP SHEILA.
Comment by Hellvis
Earache Hotel
I haven't seen your PM yet. Have never received a PM through Orble before. I figured out it was a Private Message after looking for our Prime Minister for three hours. But what does it look like and where do I get it?