At his birthday bash, long live the King

Along with death and taxes, we can be certain Elvis Presley will always be with us. More than a quarter-century after his demise, Vegas Elvis joins crowds at televised pro football games, and Rockabilly Elvis cruises around Silver Lake. On Thursday, which would have been the King’s 69th birthday, he was spotted on a rerun of “The Simpsons,” shaking hands with evil billionaire Montgomery Burns in a photo on an office wall.

And Elvis -- or at least his sunglasses, trademark ducktail and flashy attire -- was definitely in the house for Thursday’s 19th annual Elvis Birthday Bash, hosted as usual by co-founder Art Fein and making its debut at the spiffily renovated former Palace, now the Avalon Hollywood.

For four-plus hours, about three dozen mostly local, mostly seasoned acts -- including singer-archivist Ian Whitcomb, goofy actor-comedian Fred Willard, bluesy vocalist-songwriter Marcy Levy and rockabilly vet Glen Glenn -- performed one or two tunes made famous by Presley. Selections were largely upbeat, and a small crowd dotted with colorful characters bobbed and danced happily.

There was much repetition of Presley’s famous “Thank you, thankyewverramuch” line, and more solos than in your average Rush concert. The latter didn’t seem particularly Presley-esque, nor did all the Jerry Lee Lewis-style keyboard flourishes, but the program still hit a variety of Elvis-appropriate notes: rocking, excessive, heartfelt and silly.

A gritty, folk-rock take on “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by newly rediscovered guitarist-songwriter Carlos Guitarlos was so stirring that one listener raised his lighter in tribute. Instrumentalists Rod & the Tonemasters provided a surfy interpretation of “Don’t Be Cruel.” Singer-songwriter Barry Holdship and his band fired up the dance floor with adept, energetic takes on “One Broken Heart for Sale” and “Kissin’ Cousins.”

At times, one wished Fein had a long, vaudeville-style hook to employ along with his video camera -- during, say, Rip Masters’ hammy “Got a Lot o’ Livin’ to Do!,” James Intveld’s dreadful near-grunge “A Little Less Conversation,” or whenever someone played a song someone else already had played. Still, anything excruciating ended quickly and reminded us, albeit perversely, of just how great a performer Presley was.