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GIVING THANKS: So there we were, bleary eyed and virtually
delirious, my traveling companion and I having driven all night
to make it to Las Vegas for Thanksgiving. We'd just finished eating
breakfast in our hotel's coffee shop--our first meal in roughly
15 hours--when we decided to retire to our room for some much-needed
slumber. Since we'd done absolutely no planning, we had no idea
what the entertainment gods had arranged for us during our stay.
Luckily, our hotel room was equipped with one of those glossy
weekly event publications, the bible of Vegas, placed somewhat
incongruously next to Gideons'.
Hoping to find some sort of quintessentially cheesy Vegas show, I leafed through the pages until I met our destiny (or at the very least, our destination for the following night): Willie Nelson was playing for four nights at the Orleans, a place I'd never heard of. It didn't matter where it was; I would've sat in a pile of cow shit to hear Willie. My companion thought I was nuts. The only Willie Nelson song she was certain she knew was "On the Road Again." She had no idea why I was jumping on the phone to immediately order tickets.
I'd seen Willie countless times in the '80s...so many times, in fact, that I took those amazing shows for granted. The Illinois State Fair visited my hometown of Springfield every August. The governor of our fair state during most of the '80s was one Jim Thompson, who, although he was a Republican, forged a real and lasting friendship (golf buddies, if I remember correctly) with Willie, who most certainly was not a registered member of the GOP (one of my favorite Willie Nelson stories being his confession of having smoked a joint on the White House roof during the Carter administration). Anyway, Gov. Thompson made damn sure that Willie had a Fair gig every summer, as long as the fans kept turning out to see him. That was never a problem. Willie fans border on religious in their zeal, and once newcomers witnessed his live show, they were likely to convert to lifelong fandom. So here in Vegas, of all places, was my chance to win Willie another convert: I was decidedly more excited about the show than she, but once Willie walked out on stage and broke into his traditional opener, "Whiskey River," with a Texas state flag unfurled behind him, she was whistling a different tune. Old-school blue-haired country fans, leather-clad Hell's Angels, displaced Deadheads, well-dressed hipsters--all were on their feet, co-mingling in their singular devotion to Willie, who disappointed no one.
And while I could rattle off a shopping list of the classic songs the guy's written in his career, it's downright astounding to witness them played live, one after another, by the man himself. There's "Time of the Preacher," "Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground," "Night Life," "Hello Walls," "Funny How Time Slips Away," "Crazy," and of course, "On the Road Again." And astoundingly enough, he found time to play nearly all of them. About two hours into the concert, I asked a theater employee how long he expected the show to run. "Well, let me tell you," he began. "Every show we've ever had in this theater gets a cut-off time from the hotel, usually about an hour and 15 minutes. The only way Willie agreed to play here is if he didn't get one. He's the only one they've ever made an exception for. Willie quits when Willie's ready to quit." After almost three hours, Willie said his goodnights and walked to the lip of the stage. Half the theater, including myself and my newly Willie-worshipping companion, flooded to the stage to shake his hand and get an autograph. He took plenty of time, making sure nobody walked away empty-handed, earning even more respect from his adoring crowd, if that was indeed possible. As for me, I was reduced to gushing fanboy status as I shook his hand and, in the spirit of Las Vegas, handed him a dollar bill to sign. When my credit card statement comes in the mail, I'll pay it with a smile. GETBOMBED: Tucson's best-loved power-pop band returns to the stage this week for an increasingly rare show. With their infectious exuberance intact and a few new songs to show off, Shoebomb headlines a fabulous triple bill that also features one of the best bands to emerge out of Phoenix in years--angular indie-rockers Trunk Federation, alongside local alternapopsters The Simplistics. It all goes down at 9 p.m. Friday, December 11, at Club Congress, 311 E. Congress St. Be sure to get there early, as the 'Bomb is one of the few local bands with a fan base big enough to sell out this modest venue. Call 622-8848 for details. BAND WAGON: In conjunction with the Fourth Avenue Street Fair comes the Street Fair Celebration, featuring psychedelic folk jam band Spirit Union Revival and "guitar alchemist" Scott Huckabay (appearing with special guest percussionists). The evening will be hosted by the storytelling clowns of the Living Folklore Medicine Show and the Poppets Presents puppet brigade, with music and theatrics woven together throughout the evening. The shindig takes place at 8:30 p.m. Friday, December 11, at the Mat Bevel Institute, 530 N. Stone Ave. Admission is $5 to $7 dollars at the door. For more information, call 388-8728.
If you didn't get your tickets for the Black Crowes' show this week, you're out of luck. The show, part of a warm-up tour of intimate venues in anticipation of their forthcoming By Your Side LP (January 12, on Columbia Records), sold out faster than a mechanical rabbit at the dog track. Just for the record, the show takes place on Friday, December 11, at the Rialto Theatre, 318 E. Congress St. Call 740-0126 for information. LAST NOTES: Anyone with an interest in the history of Arizona music won't want to miss the December 15 installment of Al Perry's Clambake radio show on KXCI-FM (91.3), as his special guest will be Arizona music historian John Dixon (a.k.a. Johnny D.), a former Phoenix disc jockey and hero of sorts to Perry himself. The show airs 10 p.m. to midnight every Tuesday.
And finally, congratulations to Steve Hahn and his KXCI-FM
radio show, The Ragged Edge, which celebrates its 15th
year on the air this week. The show, which airs every Thursday
night from midnight to
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After the ticket agent told me that tickets were 50 bucks--an
amount I'd only paid once before, for a front-row ticket to Bob
Dylan--I thought twice. Then after being informed that the only
tickets left were for "overflow seating," I thought
about it a third time. But then I remembered that ancient idiom:
When in Vegas, do as the hedonists. So I authorized the
charge, and focused my energy on forgetting about the bill until
its delivery in about two weeks, smack in the midst of the gift-buying
season. (doh!) But we were in Vegas, and this was Willie
Nelson.
Looking like he was born on a stage under a flood of lights,
he fired off classic after classic from his encyclopedic catalog
of self-penned songs, as well as the occasional cover tune (including
Gershwin's "Stardust" and a trio of Kris Kristofferson
songs), pausing only to deliver flawless Spanish-influenced solos
from his trademarked two-holed acoustic guitar (one of the holes
courtesy of friction from his hand over God-knows-how-many years
of playing).
You like the punk rock? Well then get yer ass over to the Double
Zero on Saturday, December 12, for an all-day thrash-a-thon. The
first annual Sandwich of Thrust show will feature a dozen
punk bands, local and not-so-local, including the Weird Lovemakers,
the Inpatients, the Blacks, the Impossible Ones
(formerly the Impossibles), and the Jimmies, from Portland,
Oregon. This all-ages show kicks off at 2 p.m. and runs all the
way till closing time at 1 a.m. Admission is $8 at the door. The
Double Zero is located at 121 E. Congress St. For more
information, call 620-6422.
