VIVA LAS VEGAS!
A tough job, but someone had to do it
The
Las Vegas Grind
Gold
Coast Hotel, Las Vegas
June 30, July 1-2, 2000
By
RON SANCHEZ
Driving
the 920 miles from Bozeman to Las Vegas seems a foolish expedition to
be taken over the 4th Of July Weekend. The desert is not the place to
go during the hottest days of summer. Well there had to be a good reason,
and it wasn't the bright lights of Sin City. It could only have been three
nights of classic and modern Garage Rock, countless friends, and cheap
drinks that drew us to the air conditioned comfort of the Gold Coast.
A
good tip at the gas station in Wells, Nevada saves up 40 miles and sends
us on a beautiful drive down highway 318 towards our destination. As planned,
we arrive on the evening of the 28th, just in time for drinks and dinner.
The Gold Coast in west of the strip, on Flamingo Road.
It doesn't try and compete with the flashier modern gambling temples.
The food is mediocre, and there are no major entertainers in the show
room. The word is that the Gold Coast is a hang out for casino employees
and locals. The upstairs bowling alley is busy, and the gaming areas seem
to be doing a brisk business.
On Thursday we're meant to meet up with Francisco Santelices from Munster
Records, Madrid, and Mike and Sallie Miller. owners of Chicago's Delilah's
Bar. Mike wants to go to a Polynesian Luau at the Imperial Palace. It
seems like good fun.
Afterwards
we all meet up back at the Gold Coast. By then a few more familiar faces
have arrived. Billy Miller and Miriam Linna from Norton
Records are spotted. We are pleased that they remember us from Garage
Shock a few years back. I find myself face to face with Get
Hip label boss, and good friend, Gregg Kostelich. It's been a few
years, and his hair is much shorter. He looks like nothing less than a
late period Peter Sellers. That would have to be Michael K from the Cynics
chatting at my elbow.
Many many trips to the bar later, I figure it must be getting late, cause
the sun is up. I can't remember what room I'm staying in, but no one seems
bothered when I stagger to the desk to ask. Better get a little sleep
in before the event gets started in a few hours.
We arrive at the Grand Ballroom just as the Surf Trio get things
underway. I can't say I get that excited about surf bands that much anymore.
It was at least five years ago when KP of Girl Trouble walked out on stage
at Garageshock and asked if everyone "has had a belly full of surf
music?" I find the genre pleasant, but often locked into a narrow
set of rules. Sort of like Dixieland Jazz. The Surf Trio are a fine bunch,
and warm up the crowd.
The Down And Outs are a much better band. This is the second time
I'd seen this Denver-based band, the they have gotten a good handle on
what they do. What they do is a punky sort of Garage thing. The singer,
who I want to call Mike has a good voice and is a simple but effective
guitarist. His previous band, Element 79, was more of a mod band. This
group pushes things a little harder.
The Fabulous Itchies are a funny sort of hybrid that I'd be hard to
classify. They come from the denim, greased back school of dress. They
advertise themselves as "frat rock from the Untamed Youth school".
Well, no not really. A good little rock back, with some dance steps. Couldn't
tell you about anything that they played, other than it was good background
music while I checked out the record stalls, and visited friends.
I'd seen the Insomniacs at The Treble Fest, in Denver a couple
of years ago. Why I'd want to see a Jam-like band, I don't know. Mod bands,
like many surf bands seem like they learned the music from third generation
sources. They are good players, but the material is uniformly sub-standard.
Their cover of the Creation's "Tom Tom" stands head and shoulders
above the originals. A little bit of Who-like aggro seems so tame and
contrived. Gong!
The Rev Beatman entertains the crowd while we slip downstairs for
a few drinks. The two women dressed as nuns are easy on the eyes, but
I need a break, as does much of the crowd at this point. At 9.45 pm we
are treated to the first of the headliners.
How many times have I seen the Swinging Neckbreakers? They are
always on the bill, and they show most of the bands what a lot of hard
work can do for your playing. They play a couple of new songs, but it's
the same set I've seen them rip through every time. I do enjoy their guitar
player Jeff. He's as improved as the brothers Tom and John are solid.
They capture the excitement of Little Richard without ever resorting to
any sort of parody. If you get the chance, see them at least once.
Part of the charm of the Las Vegas Grind is their attempts to bring back
a little of the Las Vegas now sadly gone. The Deviletts are a dozen
or more babes who do this slightly risque chorus line dance routine. They
appear every night at 11pm, and strut their seedy stuff for just the right
amount of time.
Freddy Fortune And Forgone Conclusions are a new name to me, but
are given the slot just before this evening stars, the Standells. Freddy
is a very nice guy who I had a chat with in the bowling alley the night
before. His band is a well dressed bunch, playing in a raucous Merseybeat
style. I find them to be a real surprise all around, good songs, good
singers and great players. Nice guitars too. It turns out the guitarist's
great uncle is Frankie Laine, and they pay tribute with a cover of Jezebel.
I couldn't tell you a thing about where they come form or what label they
record for, but they are another band to watch out for if they come to
your town.
It's
star time, and tonight's featured artist are L.A.'s own Standells.
From our vantage point in the Bay Area, The Standells never seemed to
be as important as some of the original '60s garage bands. There's a lot
of good records in their resume. Maybe this is what Ed Cobb hoped the
Chocolate Watchband would do for him. The big excitement for me is spotting
Russ Tamblyn in the crowd. I explain to Karen that he was the doctor in
Twin Peaks as she's probably never seen "High School Confidential".
When the band walks on stage it's a little disappointing that they do
dress like a Holiday Inn lounge band. Dicky Dodd is clearly into it, and
runs the band with a firm hand. If not for him, there wouldn't be much
effort expended. The guitar players seems slightly lost and bemused more
than once. As he starts to honk on the harmonica, Dicky shouts for him
to turn it over for better results. In the end, they play most every song
you'd want to hear, with "Dirty Water" getting a second run
through, just in case you weren't sure who you were seeing! There are
a few grumbles in the crowd, but it's actually better than I expected.
There is another burlesque troupe, Burlesque As It Was. It's all
done in that innocent fun of the old days. The girls aren't all beauties,
but they shake it with a smile.
When we were in the bar on Thursday, we were surprised to see Lars Espensen
from the A-Bones. Karen asked him if he was going to play, and
he told her he played guitar in the Church Keys. Here they were,
doing the cool down set at 1.20 in the morning. The Church Keys are one
of my favorites of the weekend. What they do is sort of a crusty version
of Sam Butera and the Witnesses. How can you not like songs like
"Sometimes She Swallows, Sometimes She Spits It Out" and "Some
One Stole My Beer While I Was In The Rear"? The guitarist and bass
player have swell matching '60s Hofner guitars. There are records on Norton,
natch. I'm so tired from the night before, there's not much chance I'll
be up late tonight.
On Saturday afternoon, a few of us meet up at Las Vegas' best little bar,
the Double Down. Some of the Grind bands are doing sets here for the locals.
Karen and I catch a little of a rock-a-billy duo, and the Dynatones,
before we head off to search out dinner. Saturday at the Gold Coast starts
early, at 3pm. This is too much music for me to face, with a great evening
line up. Gregg Kostelich from the Cynics predicts that Saturday will be
a proper "battle of the bands". With The Boss Martians, The
Cynics, Lyres, Remains, and Jackie and the Cedrics, topping the bill,
you know there is going to be some friendly competition.
The Ghastly Ones are mid way through their set when we finally
arrive. Taking a fashion tip from Screaming Lord Sutch and the Undertakers,
they are decked out in top hats and snappy vests. It's all good enough,
but the best is yet to come. The Hatebombs are another band that I'd seen
at Treblefest. For all the excitement about them at that gig, I found
them to be your average second division garage band. They don't do anything
new tonight. It's all punky choppy guitar chords and shouted vocals with
a sneer. I'm curious enough to stay up front for the whole set, but I
come away with no strong attraction to their music.
I know I'd seen the Boss Martians before, possibly more than once,
but for the life of me I could not remember who they were. As soon as
they hit the stage I knew who they were, and that I liked them a lot.
The Boss Martians are a perfect blend of superb guitar playing, great
songs, and a great singer. It's shades of the Sonics with a ringing surf-style
guitar. The playing is more rock than surf, so there is none of that contrived
middle eastern riffage. I don't know if their sound translates to records.
A band to go see if they stop in your town.
In
1994, I'd met the Cynics while they were traveling out to Garage
Shock. Gregg and Michael turned out to be great guys, huge rock fans,
and incredibly funny characters. The two shows I saw were stunning, particularly
their set in Bellingham. Soon after than the band split and there hasn"t
been any new recordings since the brilliant "Get Their Way".
After a five year lay-off, here they are back in fine form. Tom Hohn has
returned to the drum stool, giving the rhythm section the needed muscle.
From the first note, it's clear that they have risen to the challenge.
Michael Kastelic is a man unleased. This is no self conscious attempt
to recreate something long past. It's just flat out rock and roll. The
crowd seems to having been waiting for the Cynics, and sing along with
every song. No one is disappointed with the non-stop assault. When the
sound man chases Michael off the PA speakers, he responds with one of
the few honest punk moves of the weekend, and shoves his mic stand through
the ceiling of the ballroom. Later Gregg tells me he was having trouble
hearing the band. I tell him that when the mic stand hits the roof, that's
the down beat. If this is their idea of a "battle of the bands"
then they have made it much harder for all that follow.
The Lyres have a tough time of it. It almost seems like they arenāt
even going to get out of the gate, as Jeff Conolly struggles to get his
gear set up and running. Deke Dickerson lends a hand, and they are finally
ready to go. It's been a long time since the Lyres have played in the
States, and there is a huge crowd to greet them. Jeff seems in fine form
once he kicks off the first song. The band does seem a little slow warming
up. The first few songs are well received, but it doesn't seem to jell.
The guitarist changes over to the 12-string, and they continue with some
folk rock sounds. Things start sounding a little better to my ears. It's
only when they return to rock mode, for the last part of the set, when
the Lyres catch fire.
Now I can see why Mono Man is so well liked. It's a bit of Steve Winwood
and Marriot R&B. Through sheer will power Jeff has pulled his band up
to the same level as his own talents. I spot some of the festival goers
in near tears of joy watching this wonderful moment. They don't play "She
Pays The Rent", but no one seems to mind.
There
are still two more bands this evening. It's an overdose of great music,
and the reason I came out. The Remains show the unsuspecting audience
what 35 years in the business can do for a band. While they may be the
least likely looking bunch, they posses real chops and feel. Their set
is pretty much the album, and some of the covers from the "A Session
With..." recordings. Words like "feel" and "groove"
must be applied here. They just get down and work up to a slow burn.
Some of the crowd is puzzled by this motley crew of older gentlemen. If
I didn't know better I'd spot them as a Montana C&W bar band! They are
the only band of the week who play an authentic '60s set. Songs like "Big
Boss Man","Like A Rolling Stone", and "I'm A Man"
don't carry the same initial impact that they did in 1966, but they are
true to the spirit of the of the times and "Diddy Wah Diddy"
and "Don't Look Back" are played like they were recorded yesterday.
It is the highlight of the weekend, and a real flash back for me.
Jackie and The Cedrics have the task of following that mind blast.
A few minutes of bump and grind interlude, and they are on. Having seen
them several times, I know just what to expect, but they throw in the
surprise of an added keyboard player. This band does more than just look
good with their vintage guitars and sharp suits. They play a real thoughtful
style of surfin'ā R&B. It's probably closer to the early sounds of the
Wailers or Sonics, old fashioned in some ways, but timeless nonetheless.
No doubt, this was the strongest night of the weekend, and would have
been worth the price of admission. The show runs well into the early hours
of Sunday morning, and the crowd is left stunned.
We all meet up the next morning at the Miller's for coffee, fresh fruit,
and a breath of fresh air. It's decided that we should take a stroll down
the strip and visit Paris. This would have to be one of the most surreal
experiences of the LV visit. They've built a slightly smaller Eiffel Tower
on top of the casino. Inside there is a recreation of some romantic's
memories of Paris. When you enter the gaming area, there is the most unnatural
sound I've ever heard. There is a low rumble, but it soon breaks up into
an inhuman song. Philip Glass as decoded by a slot machine.
We decide to sit down for a family dinner before we return to our hotel.
A nap would do me some good, so I pass on the first three bands of the
evening: The Dynatones, The Girl Bombs, and the Invisible Men. As I walk
in, Deadbolt are in the middle of some sort of chainsaw solo. What
else can you say about that?
The Tiki Tones are given a glowing introduction by the same Deke Dickerson.
In the end they are just plain ordinary. Tell me? When did wearing a fez
become the standard for surf bands? It's just a dressed up lounge act
to my ears. Sorry.
It's the Loons I'm looking forward to hearing. Mike Stax has been
roaming the gigs with a huge smile on his face. They clearly draw from
his obsession the Pretty Things. It's more psych than anyone else on the
bill. While not as heavy or hard hitting as some of the other bands, their
original material is a refreshing sound. Since I'd not heard their album,
I don't know any of the titles, but they do slip in a faithful cover of
"House Is Not A Motel". The real surprise comes at the end of
their set when they introduce Phil "Fang" Volk from the Raiders.
Wow, now that'll take me back a good 36 years, to the first concert I
ever went to! Phil looks fit and tanned, hardly giving away his age. They
storm through "Get It On", one of his numbers from the "Midnight
Ride" album, and a cheerful version of "Just Like Me".
Phew.
I don't know if I have any of the Crawdaddies records, or even
really heard them before. The always just seemed like a bunch of LA mop
tops, but I'm proved wrong. It's Hector from Flying Color and The Zeros
on bass tonight. A real LA mop top if there ever was. They play with a
real feel for the material, much of which is straight out of the Stones
song book. If they weren't so good they would have never pulled it off.
Another of the highlights, if just for their unaffected manner.
The Thanes are another band I can't say I've heard before tonight.
Their sound is a Scottish garage/beat group sound. Fashions by the Barracudas.
Sort of a nerdy looking bunch, but they are very good. By this point I'm
dead tired, and it's all I can do to pay attention. Too bad, cause these
guys deserve it. The crowd is still going strong, so they get a fab reception.
Oh no! There's one more band. It's an all star band with Deke Dickerson
and Lars, backing the truly awful Johnny Legend. He seems to be
some old wrestler who's a Sunset Strip figure of some sort. I'ās just
an old guy who looks like Sky Saxon shouting some very obscene lyrics
over old rock and roll tunes. I couldn't take much of it, and head to
the bar. I'm exhausted, I've just about had enough of smoke and air conditioning,
and I can barely choke down another drink. Sort of like Woodstock with
out the mud.....
Ron Sanchez
is the principal member of Montana psychedelic collective Donovan's
Brain, who record for Get Hip.
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