THE KING AND THE KING’S COURT: An Interview with Rick Anthony

Most Elvis Tribute Artists (ETAs) follow a fairly predictable trajectory: they grow up in a house filled with the crackle of Sun Records vinyl, develop a lifelong obsession with the King, and eventually, after years of mirroring the moves in their bedroom, gather the courage to step onto a stage. Rick Anthony, however, decided to do things a bit backward. He didn't start with a burning passion for the discography; he started with a competitive streak and a strategic eye for what it took to win over a crowd.

Rick: My mom and dad were fans of Elvis, but not super fans. I always heard the Elvis Christmas songs or an album periodically. I attended a Catholic school and in eighth grade, they had a lip-sync contest. You had to be somebody from the 50’s, 60’s, or 70’s. I was like “how do I win this thing? Who was the biggest entertainer that matched all three eras?” So I did a lip sync to the Madison Square Garden performance of “That’s Alright, Mama” wearing a borrowed Elvis costume and a terrible wig. And I won! Then a special edition of “That’s the Way it Is” came out and I was like “Holy. Cow.” So when my mom asked what I wanted to do for summer vacation, I told her I wanted to go to Graceland. I was really immersed in it after that.

There is something poetic about a kid from a Catholic school choosing the world’s most famous rebel to secure a win, only to find himself genuinely converted by the very image he was projecting. After that fateful trip to Memphis, the hooks were in deep. Rick saw his very first ETA perform shortly after, and for a young man who wasn’t alive to see the King in the flesh, it was a transformative experience. He watched Matt Lewis, a performer he is still proud to call a friend today, and felt the electricity that only a high-caliber tribute can generate. It wasn't just a costume; it was a resurrection. Rick looked at the stage and thought, I could do that. Soon enough, he had his first jumpsuit and was cutting his teeth at birthday parties and senior centers.

The transition from a hobbyist in a bad wig to a professional with a full stage production is no small feat. While Rick still honors his roots by performing at senior centers and private parties, his operation has grown into a powerhouse of musical logistics. When we spoke, he mentioned his band, but "band" turned out to be a bit of an understatement. He actually manages three distinct units that converge to create a wall of sound worthy of the International Hotel.

Rick: I have the “Flaming Star Band,” which is the basic rhythm section. I have the “Pure Gold” vocal band, which is the voices. Then I have the “Blue Moon Brass” which is the horns. All together, it forms “Rick Anthony and the King’s Court.”

Me: Well, that’s a better name than what I would’ve come up with: “The Flaming Gold Moons.”

Beyond the grand scale of the King's Court, Rick remains deeply grounded in the smaller, more intimate performances. He speaks of his time at senior centers with a sincerity that is rare in the entertainment world. These venues are often where the real magic happens for ETAs. In these rooms, you aren't just a singer; you are a bridge to memories that have often been locked away by time or illness. Of course, being a handsome man in a jumpsuit in front of the geriatric crowd comes with its own set of occupational hazards. Being propositioned by a 90-year-old is practically a rite of passage in this industry, and Rick has navigated his fair share of wandering hands and bold invitations.

Rick: It’s all in good fun. It means we’re doing something right if we’re giving them that illusion of seeing Elvis. And it’s good for them, because for the most part, that’s their era, and they remember Elvis. Seeing people who have had no expression on their face for months and months, then having their families say “They lit up when you came on. It was like a whole different person I haven’t seen in so long.” Some of them get teary-eyed, and that’s just so humbling. That’s what the ultimate goal is: to make people have joy and to bring back the spirit of Elvis, whether it’s through the songs or the interactions.

It is that "spirit of Elvis" that Rick carries with him, though occasionally, it gets filtered through a bit of a regional lens. Rick is from New England, and as a Southerner, I’ve found that the language barrier can be surprisingly real, even when we’re speaking the same tongue. We hit a hilarious snag when discussing his early career and the people who supported him.

Rick: When I was 16, I used to work at this company. My best friends own it, and their mom, she was a hot ticket. She was such a funny, funny lady and a big supporter of what I did as well.

Me: Oh! Wow, ok, is this like a “Stacy’s Mom” situation?

Rick: -with realization and slight horror- No no no no no!

It turns out that in the Northeast, "hot ticket" doesn't mean what it might imply in a pop-rock song or a Southern dive bar. It simply means someone is popular, vibrant, and well-liked, a real firecracker. That distinction became incredibly important as he transitioned into a story about this same woman throwing a pair of underwear at him while he was on stage. Context, as they say, is everything.

Rick: I had my back to the audience and felt something pelt me in the back of the head. So I look on the ground and I pick up this piece of fabric. I unraveled it, and it was the largest pair of granny panties you’d ever see in your life. They obviously didn’t belong to my boss, but she stood up and shouted “I even wet the crotch for you!” I was mortified but the crowd was roaring. It was a good bit. I’ll never forget that story.

Living the life of an ETA means the line between your "normal" self and your stage persona starts to blur. Most guys have to work hard at the look- dyeing their hair blue-black, manicuring the sideburns, and maintaining that specific pompadour height. Rick, however, has a bit of a genetic leg up. He credits his Portuguese heritage for his thick, naturally dark hair and Elvis-adjacent features. It’s a blessing, but it also leads to some rather bizarre encounters in his daily life. People are often skeptical that someone could look that much like the King

without a little "help."

Rick: I was doing karaoke one night, and I looked across the venue and there was this guy. He was pacing back and forth, looking up at me and scratching his head, then pacing some more. I’m thinking something’s wrong with this guy. After the song, he comes up to me and shakes my hand and says I did a great job. I ask him if there’s something wrong, and he said yeah, he just had a question for me. “Your hair. Is it real?” I get that a lot, and I told him yes it was. He continues. “Could you do me a favor? Could you just like, pull on your hair?” So I did and he looked upset. I asked if he was alright and he said “I just lost a hundred bucks to that guy in the corner.”

Rick was a good sport about it, even offering to buy the guy a drink to soften the blow of the lost bet. It takes a specific kind of patience to tug on your hair in a karaoke bar at the request of a stranger, but Rick seems to take it all in stride. He understands that for many people, Elvis isn't just a singer; he’s a mythological figure. When they see someone who captures that essence, they want to know if it’s real.

I’m always curious about the "why" behind the suit. What is it about Elvis Presley that compels a person to dedicate their life to preserving his image? For Rick, the attraction wasn't just the flashy capes or the chart-topping hits; it was the character of the man behind the gold records.

Rick: He had it all. He was good-looking, charismatic, had a beautiful voice, was a man of God, his family meant a lot to him, he was a father… There’s never been anybody else like him and I don’t think there ever will be. He broke the mold.

That perspective is what separates the impersonators from the tribute artists. Rick isn't chasing fame or trying to bask in a reflected glow; he’s honoring a man he holds in high esteem. He sees Elvis as a complete package- a flawed but faithful man who happened to be the greatest entertainer the world has ever seen. Rick’s advice for those looking to follow in those famous footsteps is simple: don’t just mimic the "Aloha from Hawaii" special. You have to go deeper. You have to study the interviews, the movies, and the biographical accounts to understand the "why" behind the "what." You have to capture the soul, not just the sequins.

Above all, Rick emphasizes the need for humility. In a business where you are literally being paid to be the center of attention, it’s easy to let the ego take the wheel. Rick stays grounded by remembering who the show is actually for.

Rick: Do it for Elvis. Do it for God, do it for whatever is inside your soul that makes you happy. And do it with love.

Whether he's dodging giant granny panties in a New England hall or bringing a tear to the eye of a fan in a senior center, Rick Anthony isn't just playing a part. He’s keeping a promise to that eighth-grade kid who just wanted to win a contest and ended up finding a calling. He’s doing it for the King, and he’s doing it with a whole lot of heart.