1. Fremont Street

The Fremont Street Experience is a haven for the vestige of the lusty old Vegas that once lived. It’s a glorious display of neon and hope. Taking a cue from Hollywood Blvd., Fremont Street is littered with “Legends” who mill amongst the tourists, posing for pictures adding to the ambiance. And it’s awesome!

Plus from 8pm until 1am at night, the ceiling lights up for something called “Vista Vision.” Kiss Over Vegas was the soundtrack for our walk. Maybe Fremont Street is so awesome because they’re living like it’s 80′s. All summer long, Nina Blackwood’s Absolutely 80s concerts are keeping it unreal with free concert performances from Loverboy, Wang Chung and Howard Jones. Blackwood was one of the first 5 original VJs when MTV first launched (and played music videos) back in 1981. In fact, August 1 will mark the 30th anniversary of MTV. So let’s party like it’s 1985.

2. Blueberry Hill

Found my thrill, and it is not to be confused with the classic song by Fats Domino or the St. Louis home of Chuck Berry and Rock ‘n Roll. The Las Vegas Blueberry Hill Family Restaurants has been family owned and operated since 1966. Their specialty: Homemade Blueberry Pancakes. Blueberry Hill is more than just a family diner, it’s a way of life. The sound system pumps in Oldies but Goodies like Frankie Ford’s “Sea Cruise,” Clarence “Frogman” Henry’s “Ain’t Got No Home” and Fat’s Domino’s “Blueberry Hill” (did you really think they wouldn’t play that one?!). It’s like if the soundtrack to American Graffiti spawned a utopian society that existed only within its walls.

There’s nothing cool about Blueberry Hill, except that it’s so uncool it’s cool. Which is… totally cool. As evidence when a group of young men, purported to be the eletro rock band The Anix, rolled up for breakfast (in a van shrink wrapped with their logo, so it was easy to figure out who they were). You never know who you’ll meet at Blueberry Hill.

3. G-ma Nancy Hip-Hop Rapper

Somehow, through the magic of Blueberry Hill no doubt, G-ma Nancy appeared. She’s a grandma and she likes to rap. And she has a message, and by golly you’ll listen.

“I do anti-gangster rap,” she explains. Which may or may not explain why she ended up in Vegas. Sharing is caring, so here’s a video of her “It’s Ok To Snitch Rap” from a Target parking lot in Las Vegas.

4. You Can Rent Fat Mike’s Vegas Punk House!

Yes, that’s right: Fat Mike from NOFX has a Vegas Punk House. And you and 9 and of your closest friends can sleep (and party) there. Think B&B for dignified punks, only the beds are bunk beds and other B is Beer.

“It’s my house for adults that live like teenagers,” Fat Mike says on the website. There’s also a salt water pool, a cave grotto hot tub, 9-hole putting green, pinball machine, pool table, and so much more.

http://vegaspunkhouse.com/

5. Endless amounts of Vegas Souvenirs

Kitsch gone wild. And completely irresistible. How many keychain bottle openers/mugs/personalized license plates/shot glasses does one need? A LOT! And The Hip Sack will never go out of fashion as long as Las Vegas makes branded souvenirs.

6. Hidden in Plain Sight: Cool Corner of Awesome

Tucked at the end (or beginning, depending on how you measure) of Fremont Street at 6th is a pretty cool corner. On one corner sits the historic El Cortez. Across the street from there is a rather enticing spot with bright flashing lights called Mamita’s Mexican Cuban Restaurant. The food is as delicious as the decor. And the one laser disc they own plays on repeat tracks like the “Macarena,” “Mambo No. 5″ and Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine’s “Conga.” We couldn’t eat fast enough to avoid the disc repeating. But the agony made the experience all that more Vegas-y. It just wouldn’t end! And kitty-corner to Mamita’s is the equally enticing Emergency Arts at the Fremont Center which houses the Burlesque Hall Of Fame, and The Beat Coffeehouse And Records. Real Espresso drinks! Real sandwiches with fresh ingrediants! Cool air. Wifi. It’s kind of like home. A saving grace from the hustle and bustle of the slots and tables. And next door is the interesting Insert Coins, a video lounge game bar that looks futuristic. No kiddies! It’s 21 and over. Finally a fun place to play videos games and get plastered besides your parents’ basement! Only bummer is you’d probably have to wear more than your boxer shots.

7. Punk Rock Bowling and Music Festival

It happens once a year, and it’s the best reason to have to go to Las Vegas. What started 13 years ago as a modest bowling tournament for a few punk record labels has exploded into a full-blown weekend of bowling and punk rock. The 12,000 music fans who descend upon the city bounce from club to club for exclusive shows, including reunions from Down By Law and All. All’s set included appearances from all three singers who have fronted the band since its inception. San Francisco’s Swingin’ Utters played the opening night party at Azul Tequila, basked in the glow from the glamourous El Cortez hotel and casino. Catch Swingin’ Utters at Hootenanny 2011 on July 2 in Irvine, California.

www.punkrockbowling.com/

8. Mystic Falls Park

Las Vegas has a plethora of water shows like the Treasure Island pirate show and the Bellagio Fountains. But none can compare to the serene wonder of the Mystic Falls Park show at Sam’s Town. It’s called Sunset Stampede, and with dancing waters, laser lights and a blistering soundtrack of the old west, it is best enjoyed amongst friends. Late at night (the 10pm show is really the best). After a few rounds from the bar.

9. Crashing Pool Parties!

Sneak into the pool at the MGM Grand Hotel to ride the lazy river, or crash a fabulous bash poolside at the Palms or Hard Rock. So it’s always great to find a killer pool party like the one Old Man Markley played at the Gold Spike a few weeks ago.

10. Elvis really IS Everywhere!

He really is! Everywhere you turn, there’s Elvis.

And those 10 things make Vegas not totally suck.

Words and photos by Lisa Johnson

If you have no idea who the Supersuckers are, then I feel sorry for you.  Sorry because you have not yet experienced the (self-proclaimed) greatest rock-n-roll band in the world!  If you have heard of them then, I’m jealous of you.  Jealous because…well, let’s just say if the Supersuckers had a spread in Tiger Beat, they’d be plastered all over my bedroom wall.

The Supersuckers have almost a cult following of die-hard fans.  You just don’t kinda sorta like the Supersuckers…you fucking LOVE the Supersuckers.  Their sound is honest-to-goodness American rock-n-roll: unpretentious, tongue-in-cheek and sacrilegious.  Their songs have an anthem-like quality to them, with raking guitar intros that make you jump up and down waiting for the rest of the band to kick in.  Their songs are about fucked-up relationships, getting fucked up and not giving a fuck.  They draw upon an archetypal rock sound to make their music: from the Ramones to Thin Lizzy to Social Distortion.

Frontman and bassist Eddie Spaghetti’s usual shtick includes getting the crowd to flip each other off, striking some well-rehearsed “rock poses” with Dan Bolton, the guitarist, and seducing the everyone into the ritual of “the fake encore”.  Ron Heathman, also on guitar, always wears a sweet baseball T and looks like he should be coaxing you to smoke up behind the gym.  Scott Churilla is on drums, veteran drummer from the Reverend Horton Heat’s band.  They can take anything and transform it magically into rock; their cover of Outkast’s “Hey Ya!” is a testament to that.

After breaking with the Sub Pop label in 2001, the band started their own label, Mid Fi.  And, in 2008 they celebrated 20 years ion the biz.  Their indie label gave them the freedom to create kick-ass music without the worry of appealing to demographics or a certain market sector.  Rightfully so, because you can’t really pigeon-hole a Supersuckers fan in one genre.  Their music appeals to rock, punk, rockabilly and psychobilly fans so that we’re all one big happy family in the mosh pit.  And, the band seems like they’re genuinely nice guys – ones that I want to bake cookies for – and you can’t but be happy to see them succeed.  The list of greats that they’ve worked and played with attest to this: Bad Religion, the Ramones, the Dwarves, Motorhead and Willie Nelson.

The Supersuckers are a mainstay on the Hootenanny stage; and if they’re playing somewhere within a 50 mile radius of LA, I’m there.  And, as Eddie warns, when you do come to a Supersuckers show, you’d better wear your clean underwear.  Cuz they’ll rock the pants right offa you.

Words by SailorBewar  photos by Curious Josh

I have an obsession with Southern Rock.  I have only told very close friends about this, as admitting to rocking out to some Foghat gets you no RAB points. (That’s Rockabilly points to you squares)

Southern Rock gets a bad rap because some people associate it with the mouth-breathing, red-neck good-ole-boys that blast it outta their tape decks.    For me, it takes me back to when I was growing up in the early 70s in Southwestern PA.  When coolness was defined by my sister’s full length embroidered jean jacket and my brother’s long hair and aviator sunglasses.  When a walking through the woods led you to bombed out lean-tos where kids smoked drugs and carved “Lynyrd Skynyrd” into tree trunks.  Dude.  And, all it takes is some sweet guitar pickin’ and the high hat to take me back to a carefree summer…

Admittedly, you can get sick of the oldies station and their usual rotation of Southern Rock.  There really aren’t any contemporary bands playing in the style of our Dixie brethren.  And, then, like the glint of sunshine off an Old English pull-tab, enter Good Man Down.

I caught up with bass player Kevin Baldes after their set at the Hootenanny:

You guys have that great Southern rock sound…where does that come from?
KB: Bein’ old…We all grew up in the 70s, in different areas of the country.  And we had all “done” the “rock-n-roll thing”.  We wanted a change.  We wanted to challenge ourselves.  We wanted to dig deep into our influences and the sounds we grew up with and I think that’s how we ended up with Good Man Down.  So our next step was putting on shows and getting people into the music.  It hasn’t been hard though.  People always seem to be into what we’ve been playing.

Now it’s hard to say that you produce Southern Rock from California.  How do you keep your sound legit?
KB: Well we all grew up elsewhere: Kentucky, North Carolina, Virginia and California.  And, we are from where we are.  Every so often you’ll get a band that comes from where ever with a sound that makes people say, “Holy shit!  How did they do that?!”  Like Nirvana coming out of Seattle.  It wasn’t even on the map at that point. So, we just try to keep that in mind.  Not that we want to become the next Nirvana, but…we’re all in our late 30s and we’re just playing what we love.  We’re not trying to pull the wool over anyone’s eyes, if you dig Good Man Down, here we are, bro.  Come and check us out.

So where will you be playing in the future?
KB: August 6 with Pat Green at the House of Blue Anaheim, and we’re playing with Jimmy Van Zant in San Diego sometime soon.

So, for all of you folks out there with butt-duster moustaches wearing your ironic truckers hats and graphic Ts, perhaps you need to be schooled on the soul of it all.  On what’s behind all that window-dressing.   Rev up the Trans Am, and head out to see Good Man Down.

Good Man Down are:

Kevin Baldes- bass, backing vocals
Steve Garvy- lead guitar, backing vocals
Dennis Hill- Lead vocals, guitar
Kyle Homme- guitar, backing vocals
Kenny Livingston- drums, backing vocals

Words by SailorBeware, photos by Curious Josh

I have a secret to admit…I don’t like the Horrorpops. When given the task of reviewing their set at the Hootenanny, I did my best impersonation of a 4 year old boy forced to go clothes shopping with mom. But, I have to qualify my statement. On the road trip down to the ‘nanny, I listened to a few tracks, just to get primed. Heavy upright slap bass, poppy drums, ska influences, and a strong but youthful vibrato, occasionally dropping to a whisper or rising to command. Then it hit me: Patricia Day is the psychobilly Gwen Stefani!

I like Gwen Stefani. I like rockabilly. I used to be way-goth. I like girl-fronted bands. Therefore, I *have* to like the Horrorpops. And, according to the Horrorpops’ rules, my only answer must be, “Hell YEAH!”

The story of how the band got together is actually pretty sweet. Singer and upright bass player Patricia Day met her now husband (and the Nekromantix upright bass player) Kim Nekroman in the fervent punk / psychobilly scene in Copenhagen in 1996. One sees visions of a Scandinavian “Valley Girl” epoch blossoming. In forming the Horrorpops, Day and Nekroman decided to switch-up instruments for fun; he taught her to play the upright bass and she taught him to play guitar. Super-cute, right? The pair is joined by Niedermeier on drums.

I was floored by their stage presence. It was what made me give up the ghost and really appreciate their performance. Day commanded the audience. She knew exactly what they were longing for! She coyly bantered with the crowd with a sexy, raspy voice. I could have a girl-crush on that voice! She wailed on her bass with confidence, wearing a skirt with a slit up to her hip.

And, how cool was it that she was the only girl singer to perform on the main stage at the Hootenanny. Day is one of the ONLY women in the testosterone-fueled rockabilly / psychobilly world. She could part the ocean of brawny, sweaty men like the red sea, all of them ogling her presence. They completely were into the music, but were so respectful of Day; they didn’t want to get too rowdy. I was amazed. The respect was palpable.

So, hell, yeah, the Horrorpops were great. SoCal kids love their psychobilly. And while their signature go-go dancers were absent at the Hootenanny, Patricia had enough sex-appeal to leave the crowd zomb-i-fied.

Words by SailorBeware, photos by Curious Josh

Undeniably, The Reverend Horton Heat, aka Jim Heath, is the biggest, baddest, grittiest, greasiest, greatest rocker that ever piled his hair up and pounded the drinks down. Without question, for all of his outlandish antics, blistering stage performances and legendary musical prowess, the one thing The Rev always gets asked about is the story behind his unusual and rather clerical moniker. “Well, there used to be this guy who ran this place in Deep Ellum, Texas who used to call me Horton- my last name is Heath,” says The Rev. “Anyway, this guy hired me and right before the show he goes, ‘Your stage name should be Reverend Horton Heat! Your music is like gospel’… and I thought it was pretty ridiculous. So I’m up there playing and after the first few songs, people are saying, ‘Yeah, Reverend!’ What’s really funny is that this guy gave up the bar business, and actually became a preacher! Now he comes to our shows and says, ‘Jim, you really should drop this whole Reverend thing.’”- (taken from their website).

The Good Reverend and his band of mischievous choir boys rocked the socks off at the Hootenanny. We drank the Kool Aid and were re-born to rockabilly. Halleilujah! Amen!

Anybody steeped in a certain subculture has to endure time when they are not among others of their own species.  “Civilians”, I call them.  Be it punk, goth, rockabilly, psychobilly, emo, or electro-whatever.  This time spent in the midst of civilians can be exhilarating.  The dissonance your individuality causes can be something that defines your boundaries with the rest of the world.  Saying what you aren’t can define what you are.  But, time spent among your kind is a whole other kind of experience entirely.

Transport yourself to Oak Canyon Ranch on July 4th for the Hootenanny and you’re suddenly on Planet Rockabilly.  No hair was to greasy, no sled too low, no pin-up too cheese-cake, no cuffs too big.  Everyone there understood your gig; there was no need for explanation.  Rows of vendors in tents were selling all kinds of doo-dads you’d be more than happy to accept from mom as a Christmas gift.  And, there was almost too much good music to endure.  I got a workout running from stage to stage in the sweltering noon heat trying to catch all the acts I wanted to see.

The hard-hitting Southern Rock of Good Man Down started my day off right.  Later, I caught the greatest rock-n-roll band in the world, the Supersuckers.  A rockabilly festival wouldn’t be complete without its evil twin; the Nekromantics and The Horrorpops also played fantastic sets.  Big Bad Voodoo Daddy made me wish I had a swing dance partner and who wouldn’t love the Reverend Horton Heat’s traditional southern gentleman charm and Jimbo’s raucous upright bass playing?

And, where else could you just run into a hottie who looks like she stepped off the pages of an Elvgren calendar?  The place was practically brimming with luscious ladies in skimpy leopard print bathing suits with perfectly coifed hair!  Miss Lola, proprietor of The Pin Up Angels was enticing concert-goers to donate at her booth.  The Pin Up Angels is a not-for-profit organization that compiles care packages for our military boys overseas…we’re not talking Hershey bars, y’all. She and her ladies support our boys by sending them eye-popping traditional pin-up photos.  She said it’s the best when she hears someone in the scene who was displaced by the military gets one of her photos.  They really appreciate seeing something that speaks to their mindset…everyone has the latest swimsuit issue.  Check them out at thepinupangels.com.  Who says rockabilly ain’t political?

People used to get tattoos or wear spikes or certain band t-shirts or shoe laces as a social filter: you could scare away the people who just didn’t get it and you didn’t want to associate with anyway.  And, you knew you found a like-minded individual if they understood your appearance.  Today, it’s just so easy to blur the lines between culture and sub-culture.  Between honest-to-goodness individuality and off-the-shelf-crap.  But, being at a festival like the Hootenanny makes me have faith in my own kind again.  Even greater was the fact that the freaks are breeding.  The number of babies in tiny, tiny Vans was astonishing!  One dad even trekked Junior into the pit!  Not recommended by Dr. Spock, but….it’s pretty rock-n-roll.

Words by SailorBeware, photos by Curiuos Josh