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Elvis Perkins: Trauma translated to hopefulness

Music Review

Samir Roy

Issue date: 5/19/09 Section: Entertainment
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Elvis Perkins in Dearland's live shows cast an enveloping net of ferocious energy and spontaneity, giving audiences a felling of genuine belief in the words and chords of the songs.
Media Credit: Samir Roy
Elvis Perkins in Dearland's live shows cast an enveloping net of ferocious energy and spontaneity, giving audiences a felling of genuine belief in the words and chords of the songs.

The story of Elvis Perkins never fails to elicit a modicum of shocked sadness. The progeny of famous parents, it may seem distasteful to make this connection instantly.

However, it would be even more distasteful to disengage any memory of his tortured personal history when speaking of his music, rife as it is with surreal imagery culled from a memory bank oft-cluttered by grief.

His father was Anthony Perkins, an actor well known for his performance as Norman Bates in Hitchcock's "Psycho," but not for his jazz/lounge/pop albums (even one in French), his work on Broadway in plays ranging from intense drama like "Look Homeward," "Angel" and "Equus" to musicals such as "Greenwillow" and "Damn Yankees," or even his work as a screenwriter.

Anthony Perkins died from AIDS-related pneumonia on Tuesday Sept. 12, 1992.

Elvis Perkins' mother was Berinthia "Berry" Berenson, a highly sought-after photographer, the granddaughter of legendary fashion designer Elsa Schiaparelli, the former protege of Halston and Andy Warhol, and a highly sought-after photographer.

Perkins lost his mother when American Airlines Flight #11 flew into the World Trade Center towers on Tuesday Sept. 11, 2001, just one day before the anniversary of his father's death.

Though tragedy may have inspired Perkins, there is an identifiable current of jaunty hopefulness in his music.

It is a rare gift to be able to palpably translate personal traumas into art that uplifts; a gift that very few musicians possess.

Sadly, his first album, "Ash Wednesday," was so emotionally naked that it frightened big-time music critics (notoriously afraid of anything that refuses to allow them an escape from deep contemplation and complained about the focus on themes such as death) and sank into obscurity.

The nakedness of his songs captivate instantly in the same way that Joni Mitchell's "Blue" still does. Each subsequent listen reveals hidden jewels of construction as these synaptic aural snapshots come into clearer focus.
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