Blue Swede Shoes

Ah, the Swedes. So civil, so upstanding, so gracious, so... Elvis.

My friend Js, who is studying Swedish, introduced me a couple of weeks ago to the Cercle Suédois, an old-fashioned club across from the Tulieries. The setting is one of faded, gilded sage-green gentility, plus Ikea chairs painted sage-green (what else). Every Wednesday they have drinks after work. The staff is made up of young Swedes and Americans--unlike like the clientele, which is mostly made up of middle-aged Swedes.

Usually they have an in-house amateur band that plays jazz standards (quite well, too). But the other night when I went back with my friend Am, it was "rock and roll night". This meant a middle-aged Swede joined the band on piano, doing his best Elvis impression in a white linen suit and a sequined shirt.

All I can say is: wow. You have never heard 50s rock until you have heard it performed by a Swedish Elvis. He yelled and strutted and somehow ended up down on the floor occasionally, with his eyes half-closed in an attempt to look sexy, which rather made him look like he was having a fit. Of course he didn't take himself seriously, and half the audience knew him socially, so the room of middle-aged Swedes was raucous and appreciative, clapping on the first and third beat as the Germanic peoples are wont to do (think the New Year's Day Strauss concert in Vienna: eins, drei, eins, drei).

The crowd was not quite raucous and appreciative enough for our hero, though, who asked, whooping, "Do you have some fun?" He didn't get a loud enough answer, so he asked again. At which point the drummer chimed in with "We can't hear!" And then called his buddy: "Östen!"

Later Elvis slowed it down a bit and sang "Zhesterday" and "Zhou are so beautiful." I hadn't realized there was a phonological issue with y's for Swedish.

Anyway, wow.