Go: Where to Go, What to Do & Why

By James P. Reza

"So, if I was just visiting Las Vegas, and I was looking for someone to tell me where to go after this show, you would be the perfect person to run into." "Sure," I shrugged. The Londoner, on a cross-country trip to see America, and heavily aromatic with the scent of Chivas Regal and Marlboros, had come to Vegas with his girl to check out homeboy expats The Killers, who he confirmed are "all the rage in England right now." He ran into me--literally--at the bar in the House of Blues Saturday, after successfully weaving through the sold-out crowd packing the House in support of Sin City's biggest musical export since the Crystal Method.

London Boy had barely been at the bar two minutes when a proud resident yelled to him over the excited din, "The Killers are from Las Vegas, ya know!" Yes, but the band had to go to England to make a buzz with international tastemakers. And though one might say that some of the lyrics of big hit "Somebody Told Me" ("Heaven ain't close in a place like this/ Anything goes but don't blink you might miss") lift cues from Sin City, so far no band has emerged that captures the Las Vegas experience like, say, the Red Hot Chili Peppers did for L.A.. That's not to say they won't, but the posh-'80s buttoned-down Euro New Wave style the Killers emulate so well is part of what makes them attractive, not their neon roots.

Young Americans, bored silly with the polished pop and bling-hop dominating music the past five years, are once again looking to Europe for unique styles and sounds. That the Killers originated in a garage in Vegas is tertiary to most fans; the band is, instead, an instant pathway to an aesthetic that screams, "I reject America's pop values in a very European way!" And there's few things more '80s than that.

The Killers performed well on Saturday. An oddly mixed all-ages crowd cheered them on eagerly, but without ever reaching the kind of rolling, feverish pitch the Crystal Method commanded at their HOB homecoming in 2000. To be fair, Saturday's crowd wasn't rolling on ecstacy. Also, to be fair, it's hard for a city to lay claim to England's hottest ticket when the only local radio station whose format can (barely) justify giving their record any airtime is the one most often listened to by office receptionists. We hear the band more on Sirius Satellite Radio than on local stations.

London Boy turned back to me. "Where can I go after this, then? To get drunk and listen to indie rock?" I shrugged again. "Your only choice," I told him, "is the Double Down Saloon. You'll love the place."

No pop, no bling

Were London Boy in town this week, I could have pointed him back to the House of Blues on Sunday, when the Nintendo Fusion Tour brings Midwest emo faves Story of the Year together with British alt.metalists Lostprophets, punk-poppers My Chemical Romance, and L.A. punk revivalists Letter Kills (Sept. 26; 632-7600).

Or I could have floated him the idea of enjoying expats Sting and Annie Lennox performing at the MGM Grand Garden on Friday (Sept. 24; 891-1111). Though not quite indie rock anymore (some critical curmudgeons insist that Sting jumped the shark when he started playing jazz), Sting and Annie Lennox share the experience of riding America's MTV-driven fascination with European bands into success. Each former leads for influential Brit Wave bands (Sting with the Police, Lennox with the Eurythmics), both emerged from disbandonment into solo careers that saw them go in decidedly more pop-focused directions than before. In other words, they grew (old) with their audiences. Whether selling well in big arenas with new, more "mature" music is better than being relegated to playing old hits at state fairs or one of the Station Casinos (Styx; Sept. 25; 547-7777) is up to the fans to decide. The critics will complain either way.

Three days to play

Thursday: You will arrive early to Treasure Island's swingin' style pad Tangerine for "Moonshine," the lounge's version of the ubiquitous local appreciation/service industry night. It's much better than trying to navigate the tiny club on a weekend night, and you'll get a much better appreciation yourself of both the appealing retro-'70s design of the place and the burlesque dancers who swing their things every hour.

Friday: The last time I tried to see the hilariously irreverent (read: female Lenny Bruce) Margaret Cho perform, I had to flee the Hard Rock Joint about 20 minutes into the performance as the venue was too cold. Now, before you label me a candy ass, note this: The Hard Rock's venue manager checked and found that Cho had requested the thermostat in the room be set at 62 degrees--enough to chase me and my sorely underdressed galpals from the venue and straight to the pharmacist. We can only hope that this time around (the "State of Emergency" Swing State Tour), the temperature in UNLV's Artemus Ham Concert Hall (Sept. 24; 895-2787) is more audience-friendly.

Saturday: Gearheads will have fun, fun fun at the Henderson Super Run 2004, a vintage, classic and street-style car show held along Henderson's downtown drag, Water Street (Sept. 23-26; 643-0000). The party actually starts Thursday this year, with a pre-show at the MonteLago Village at Lake Las Vegas, and then moves into its more proletariat digs on Friday. As First Friday has demonstrated, this is the kind of event that draws people into downtown: social, fun, and only as expensive as you want to make it.

Native Las Vegan James P. Reza is an old gearhead from way back. Nothing tickles his distributor more than wrenching his 1969 Alfa on the side of U.S. 95 at night. E-mail the author at jpreza@cox.net.