Go: Where to Go, What to Do & Why

By James P. Reza

Dropping into Nevada from California on I-15's infamous "Baker Grade" at stateline, one notices the expansive, typically dry lake beds aren't dry at all. Rather, beneath towering, craggy mountain backdrops and brightly moonlit landscape, the beds are full from the recent deluge, painting the desolate Mojave as a primeval landscape from which one half-expects to see emerging the sillouette of a grazing brontosaurus. That is, until eyes scan a little further east to the blazing casinos of Primm, reflected in the surface of the water like Pleasure Island come to life--a neat visual trick.

A welcome break in the recent spate of unusual weather pulled your Go tour guide on a quick trip to the seashore, where--as headlines warned the Northeast of an impending blizzard--a shining sun lifted Laguna Beach to an embarrassingly pleasant 73 degrees. With winter's tasty waves thrusting surfers to the sand and O.C. hotties in bikinis at every turn, it was easy to be mindless that a few short weeks ago, homes were flooding, mud was sliding and snow dusted Sin City.

Ocean breezes, surf culture, honestly-fresh seafood and residents rising at the ass-crack of dawn to enjoy plentiful outdoor activities year-round--it's all part of what continues to make Southern California special. But what I've increasingly found in the past 10 years, and particularly on this trip, is that much of what was once considered a unique draw of Southern California, particularly for Las Vegans--its hepcat concert and nightlife scene, dining, and metropolitan off-beach creative scene--is no longer so. Scanning the entertainment sections of area newspapers while sipping a cafe au lait in a seaside coffeehouse, it was apparent that much of Southern California culture not directly derived from its proximity to the ocean has been transplanted to Las Vegas.

It's not only the obvious restaurant listings and concert ads that show striking similarity to those found in Las Vegas; it's also the people, the houses, the attitude. Drive 20 miles inland anywhere from Malibu to Dana Point and what you'll find is 21st century Las Vegas without casinos: strip malls and Starbucks colliding with upscale chains and import auto dealerships, dispersed among row upon row of clichéd stucco boxes packed too tightly on undersized lots where nobody can hear you scream. Sure, you can still uncover remnants of classic SoCal culture, but it has mostly gone the way of classic Vegas culture. Whereas once one could just show up on the Pacific Coast Highway and find themselves surrounded by beachside bungalows, taquerias and fried burger joints, sun-drenched leisure and a prolific music scene--much like one could just show up in Vegas and indulge themselves in a libertarian frontier outpost--mass culture has caught up with both places, and both places have caught up with each other. The result? Character has been lost, cultures diluted and distinctions blurred. Ready or not, when the Big One finally rumbles, Las Vegas is cocked, locked and ready for its role as Los Angeles.

SoCal Distortion

One need look no further for the proof of this mutual assimilation than this week's lineup at the Hard Rock Joint, featuring Social Distortion, Social Distortion, and, oh yes, Social Distortion. Back in the day (that's the early-to-mid 1980s), Social D was huge among members of the Vegas music underground who ate up the Orange County-based punks. Influenced as much by Johnny Cash as Dick Dale and The Clash, Social D showcased a punk hybrid of outlaw country and surf rock perfect for Vegas punks struggling with an identity found somewhere between the two.

Now back with 2004's Sex, Love and Rock 'n Roll, Social Distortion has but one Southern California show scheduled for this tour, and that's in tony Santa Barbara. But Vegas, that's another story. Initially slated for a single performance that sold out lightning quick, another show was added that also promptly sold out. At the time of writing, tickets for the "third" (which is actually the first show, chronologically) are still available. Why did this happen, you ask? Easy: all of Social D's old school Orange County fans now live in Vegas. Either that or they'd rather drive three hours to Vegas than two hours to Santa Barbara, and, quite frankly, who wouldn't? Appearing with Social Distortion is Backyard Babies and Street Dogs (Feb. 2-4; 693-5000).

Catch all

There are a few more shows that may be worth a mention, or may not. The ridiculous never-ending farewell tours of Cher (along with the Village People) are not, but there, I just did it anyway. They'll be at the MGM--again--on Saturday (Jan. 29; 891-1111). Country vocalist LeAnn Rimes is worth a mention, if only because she has been repeatedly compared to the legendary Patsy Cline, and like all good hipsters desperate to appear well-rounded, we love Patsy Cline. Rimes, who last appeared on a nearby stage over Lake Las Vegas, will be at Buffalo Bill's in Primm (Jan. 29; 386-7867)--which, coincidentally, is also on a lake, no matter how temporary.

For something(s) completely different: the Moscow Philharmonic performs Friday at UNLV's Artemus W. Ham Concert Hall with Julliard soloist Cho-Liang Lin (Jan. 28; 895-2787). And...former Deep Purple guitarist Ritchie Blackmore is on tour with Blackmore's Night, the acoustic Renaissance-style band he formed in 1996. A significant departure from the loaded riffs he played with Deep Purple, concerts by Blackmore's Night are a celebration of medieval music that have evolved into impromptu Renaissance Faires at Blackmore's encouragement. The fanfare plays at House of Blues on Thursday (Jan. 27; 632-7600). "Smoke on the Water" has nothing on a good, heartfelt "Huzzah!"

If none of this works for you, perhaps you'll find something at the Hard Rock Hotel in March, a month that will see Billy Joel, Elvis Costello and Billy Idol rocking separate shows at the Joint. Tickets for all shows go on sale Saturday, Jan. 29; call 693-5000.

Native Las Vegan James P. Reza is busy studying fault reports from the National Geologic Survey. E-mail the author at jpreza@cox.net.