SHATTERING THE SILENCE: An Interview With Jim Barone on the ETA Contest Circuit

Before we dive into today's article, I want to put a quick disclaimer out there. I know this topic is bound to cause a bit of a stir, but first and foremost, my goal is always to support ETAs. I'm absolutely not here to bash any one person or tear down a specific contest. Instead, I want this to be a platform for open discussion about the tribute world where performers can actually be heard. Please keep in mind that the thoughts, experiences, and opinions shared in today's article are strictly Jim Barone's own. I am simply sharing his perspective today to help encourage a healthy, honest conversation within the community.

Jim Barone has spent over thirty years in the tribute business, building an extensive and career with a steady stream of first-place titles dating all the way back to 1993—including two major wins already in 2026 alone. With a resume of that length and caliber, he has seen the Elvis Tribute Artist contest circuit evolve from every possible angle, providing him with a unique perspective on the current state of the industry. Discontent in the ETA community is practically an open secret at this point, but most performers are terrified of the professional blowback that comes with whispering about it, let alone addressing it publicly. Breaking that silence is a big deal, and for a veteran with Jim’s standing, choosing to speak out is a testament to exactly how serious these issues have become to him. His stance is simple and unwavering: enough is enough. Going on the record about the realities of the circuit brings a heavy threat of industry fallout, but Jim faces that possibility head-on.

"I'm not worried about the repercussions because I'm already living with the fallout. For me, this is about the judging and politics that go against Elvis's actual legacy. But at my core, I'm a singer—and if I'm done with the competition circuit, I'll just sing rock and roll. Nobody owns rock and roll."

At the very top of Jim's list of grievances is a glaring lack of judging transparency. In recent events, he has walked into competitions without even knowing who was sitting on the judging panel. When he and another competitor raised direct questions about who would be scoring the performances, the only answer provided was that it would be the "same judges as last year". This kind of opacity is deeply frustrating for the talent on stage, and it leads directly into another massive burden placed on the performers: the sheer financial cost of competing.

It is no secret that putting on a full-scale contest with venues, live bands, licensing, and marketing is a wildly expensive endeavor for promoters. However, Jim argues the tickets are sold because of the performers, as they are the main draw. Yet, these artists are spending their own precious time and shelling out thousands of dollars just to walk through the venue doors. Jim provides a stark, real-world ballpark breakdown of his personal expenses from a recent competition. The math is sobering: a $175 entry fee (which he explicitly noted was a Special Olympics benefit that he was entirely happy to support, but included purely to illustrate the basic math), $488 for hotel lodging, and $600 in gas for the round trip.

That brings the baseline total to $1,263. And that figure does not even begin to factor in meals, lost time away from family and work, or the thousands of dollars continually invested in custom jumpsuits and authentic stage wear. To put that massive expense into perspective, the prize money at this particular contest offered $1,500 for first place, $1,000 for second place, and $500 for third place. If a performer works hard enough to win third place, their prize money practically just covers the cost of the hotel room. If they manage to capture first place, they might go home with a couple hundred dollars in profit after an absolutely grueling, exhausting weekend. From Jim's perspective, when the prize money barely even covers basic travel expenses, and a performer cannot even get basic transparency on who is sitting at the judges' table, it becomes completely understandable why guys across the circuit are finally throwing their hands up and saying they have had enough.

When Jim steps back to look at the bigger picture—the mounting out-of-pocket expenses, the total lack of transparency, and the questionable behind-the-scenes dynamics—he sees a much deeper, more troubling issue that he believes has slowly crept into the circuit. In his view, there has been a distinct shift from passion to profit.

He points out that at its core, the tribute world was built on a foundation of honoring Elvis Presley, celebrating his timeless music, and keeping his memory vibrantly alive for new generations of fans. But over time, Jim feels that this genuine spirit of celebration has been pushed aside to make room for what he strongly describes as a cold, heavily corporate model. As he sees it, these competitions are no longer centered on respecting Elvis’s actual legacy or elevating the craft of the tribute. Instead, he argues they have transformed into pure business ventures where maximizing revenue, selling a specific brand image, and protecting promoter interests take priority over the actual art being performed on stage. For Jim, and for other performers who pour their hearts, souls, and hard-earned money into perfecting their tributes out of a genuine, lifelong love for the King, he notes that watching the music get treated as a secondary, disposable product is the absolute hardest pill to swallow.

So, if the prize money is practically non-existent and the judging process is shrouded in mystery, why continue to do it at all? For Jim, the answer is simple: it has never been about the cash or the trophy. He continues to perform, spend the money, and put himself out on that stage simply because he loves Elvis with all his heart. He keeps entering contests because he holds onto the hope of finding organizers who care about Elvis's legacy just as deeply and fiercely as he does.

But when a performer does enter a formal contest, there is a basic expectation of receiving feedback. This brings up another massive issue Jim highlights: the complete lack of score sheets. At his most recent contest, there were absolutely no score sheets provided to the competitors. Some within the industry argue that handing out score sheets causes unnecessary stress and backstage drama, and that it is better to keep those numbers private. Jim completely and fundamentally disagrees. He explains that the guys absolutely want their score sheets so they can know exactly how they are doing. Performers are often their own worst critics, meticulously reviewing their own footage to see what worked and what didn't. As Jim points out, if a performer gets a sheet back and sees a low score for stage presence, then at least they know exactly what needs to be worked on before the next performance.

He notes that transparent, up-and-up contests—like the one he competed in at Niagara Falls—hand out detailed score sheets voluntarily to every single participant without anyone even having to ask. In Jim's extensive experience, receiving constructive feedback—even after taking home a win—is exactly what helps artists grow. He recalls a past contest victory where a judge noted that while his vocals were strong, he didn't necessarily need to over-sing certain sections. Jim took that advice completely to heart, applied it directly to his act, and firmly believes that piece of honest feedback made him an even better, more polished performer.

Even if organizers started handing out score sheets tomorrow, Jim believes there is another massive elephant in the room that is holding the entire industry back. In his view, there is an undeniable, growing feeling that these events are rapidly becoming popularity contests rather than true talent showcases.

Jim points out a very frustrating reality about the current state of the circuit. He notes that while vocals are formally supposed to account for 40% of a competitor's total score, he constantly sees performers walking away with the top prizes who might have flashy modern dance moves and incredibly expensive wardrobes, but completely lack an authentic Elvis sound. He also feels the circuit heavily favors younger competitors or familiar, established names, regardless of how well they actually perform on that specific night. To him, it really starts to feel like the results are based much more on who you know, the size of an existing fan base, or who the promoters want to build a profitable brand around, rather than who actually delivers the best, most authentic tribute on stage.

Jim explains that he has even watched competitors place in top tiers despite what he says are noticeable vocal errors, simply due to their established name recognition. Furthermore, he argues that when judging panels consist of people who are close friends or business associates with the contestants up on stage, the neutrality of the event is completely destroyed. For performers like him, who he says rely on vocal talent and authentic homage rather than just a flashy image, he expresses that it is incredibly disheartening to watch the music take a back seat to the politics.

When envisioning what an ideal competition would look like if built from the ground up, Jim’s entire approach to judging would get a complete overhaul. Realistically, the ETA world is a very tight-knit community. Finding a judge who possesses a deep, nuanced knowledge of Elvis's vocal stylings across the 50s, 60s, and 70s, yet somehow has absolutely zero personal connections to anyone on the circuit, is practically impossible. Jim acknowledges that finding that perfectly unattached expert is a tough ask. But the bare minimum standard should always be transparency. If a judge has a personal or professional relationship with a contestant, that connection should be fully disclosed, and strict safeguards must ensure unbiased scoring. Under his model, managers would never be allowed to judge their own talent, and organizers would have absolutely zero influence over scoring outcomes. The circuit also desperately needs judges who actually know the difference between authentic, classic Elvis stage movements and modern, exaggerated dance moves that have absolutely nothing to do with the King. And, naturally, score sheets would be handed out automatically, offering real, constructive feedback so performers can hone their craft.

Then there is the issue of the entry fee. In Jim's ideal world, performers wouldn't have to pay a single dime just to walk through the door and compete. He points out that festival models, like the one utilized in Niagara Falls, have already proven this system works beautifully. The organizer there recognizes that the ETAs are the ones drawing the massive crowds, so charging the performers to be there makes no sense. Instead of putting the financial burden on the talent, a well-run festival would cover its costs the traditional way: through ticket sales, local business sponsorships, and program advertising. When the focus is put back on supporting and genuinely respecting the artists, Jim believes the entire environment changes for the better.

Jim emphasizes that there are many reasons competitors are reluctant to rock the boat, chief among them being the very real, heavy risk that he says comes with voicing these concerns. In his view, retaliation in the competition world isn't some hypothetical threat; he states it is a well-known reality. He points out that for years, the unspoken rule of the circuit has been remarkably simple: keep your head down, accept whatever score you are handed, and don't make waves. According to Jim, the moment a performer publicly questions a panel's decision or calls for basic transparency, they risk finding themselves quietly shut out of future events, their applications mysteriously denied without any explanation.

With a performer's actual livelihood and hard-earned reputation on the line, Jim says it is completely understandable why so many choose to stay silent. But he wants to make one thing abundantly clear: he states that he personally knows many other performers who feel the exact same way he does. From his conversations across the tribute community, he notes that a growing number of seasoned, highly respected performers are quietly reaching this exact same breaking point. He explains that these are guys with established careers, packed performance calendars, and decades of unwavering dedication to Elvis's memory who are looking at the current state of the circuit and deciding they have simply had enough. As Jim sees it, they aren't walking away because they lost their passion for the music; they are stepping back because the politics have begun to completely eclipse the tribute itself. To him, the fact that so many established artists are independently reaching the same conclusion proves this isn't just one performer venting after a tough weekend—it is a clear sign that the industry is standing at a major crossroads.

As Jim makes the long eleven-hour drive home, his focus remains right where it has always belonged: on the music, his upcoming shows, and his unshakeable love for Elvis Presley. At the end of the day, he says his talent and career do not depend on a judges' scorecard or a contest title. He is a singer, plain and simple, and absolutely no amount of industry politics can ever take that away from him.

As we wrap up today’s discussion, I want to explicitly reiterate that the views, experiences, and observations shared in this article are strictly the personal thoughts and opinions of Jim Barone. My role here is simply to provide a dedicated platform for performers to actually be heard. If anyone else has their own thoughts, experiences, or opinions they would like to discuss, my inbox is always open.

I would love to hear your take on the current state of the competition circuit down in the comments. Do you feel judging transparency needs to be addressed, or do you see things differently? All I ask is that everyone keeps the discussion civil, respectful, and focused on constructive conversation. We are absolutely not here to attack specific performers or tear down specific contests. After all, we are all here for the exact same reason: to honor and celebrate the enduring legacy of the King.