44 Global Gaming Business FEBRUARY 2019W
hen I started doing this (whatever this is) in the mid
1980s, casino entertainment was fairly simple to ex-
plain. Sinatra, Sammy and the like were in the big
showrooms, comedians were in the smaller showrooms, and there were
revue shows featuring athletic women wearing large feathers.
That was about it.
But then, the baby boom generation took over the showrooms. Now,
casino entertainment is all over the place with rock shows—at least one
concentrating on a single, vile decade in the history of pop music; others a
collection of “tribute” acts like those Beatles impersonators in period cos-
tumes; still other “residencies” like Elton John and Celine Dion at Caesars
Palace.
Now that Celine and Elton are wrapping up their residencies, things
are getting a little nutty in the let’s-pretend-we’re-still-young-by-clinging-
to-our-rock-music-like-grim-death genre of casino entertainment.
The latest entry in this genre is exemplified by how they rang in the
new year at the Spa Resort Casino in Palm Springs, erstwhile home of Sina-
tra and Bob Hope (though in different houses). The Spa Resort featured a
“Rockin’ ’80s New Year’s Eve Party” with ’80s lookalikes and tunes from
Bon Jovi, Foreigner, Journey, Styx, REO Speedwagon, and... Oh, never
mind. You get the drift. Big hair and monotonous synth bass.
I think they even had Duran. (They had wanted Duran Duran, but
could only find half the band.)
There were... let’s see... 10 decades in the 20th century. I can’t think of
a single one that is less suited for a showcase of pop music than the 1980s.
OK, Michael Jackson, Tom Petty and Elvis Costello did some good stuff.
Some Springsteen. And I kind of liked The Cars. But the rest was crap. I’d
rather watch an Eddie Cantor tribute.
I apologize if I offend; it’s only my opinion. (Luckily, it’s also my col-
umn.)
This year, the rock residencies are getting crazy. According to
Thrillist.com, new Las Vegas residencies for 2019 include Billy Idol—Las
Vegas 2019at the Palms, Britney Spears Dominationat Park MGM, Aero-
smith Deuces Wild, also at Park MGM, John Fogerty—My 50-Year Tripat
the Wynn, and James Taylor—mercifully, just the name of the performer—
at Caesars Palace.
The purpose of these residencies is partly to allow us, aging casino
showgoers, to relive the music of our youth. But they also serve a purpose
for the performers involved, who can stay in one place—instead of running
around to catch private planes, or even, you know, walking across the street.
I mean, let’s admit it. Other than Britney, I’ve seen younger faces on cash.
But there they are, preserved as if in amber, to perform the roles of
younger versions of themselves. And the better they are at that—some, like
Fogerty, are freaks of nature—the more we like it.
In other words, expect more of the same.FRANKLYSPEAKING
by Frank LegatoGuns ‘N Roses—Do-
Rag.
The Rolling Stones—
Beyond the Grave.
The Who—
Who’s Left.
The Grass Roots’
Midnight Confessions.
(Actually, I wouldn’t
mind seeing that last one.)
Oh, and expect more of
the rock tribute acts as well.
Some are very good. I remember
enjoying the one Beatles tribute act
I ever attended, even though the
“John” guy was a little chubby and
looked sort of ridiculous in the
Sgt. Pepper suit. (To their benefit,
I got no flak for referring to them
in a column as the “Fat Four.”)
The tribute acts are still mak-
ing their way through the decades.
As one more indicator of my age,
there are now several Nirvana trib-
ute bands—music my children
would have heard when theywere
in high school (had I not trained
them to listen exclusively to Bach,
Mozart and Miles Davis). Pretty soon,
there will be tribute-band tribute bands.
Of course, there is still a sliver of the
old style of Las Vegas entertainment to be
had. While some of it is in the form of trib-
utes like the Rat Pack shows, there still is at
least one living, breathing relic of the old
days.
In January, Wayne Newton switched his retrospective show from the Bally’s
showroom to Cleopatra’s Barge in Caesars Palace (a nightclub where I spent a
few rum-soaked evenings over the years). While his voice is a few octaves lower
than when he sang “Danke Schoen,” it’s still Wayne in the flesh—or as Doctor
John used to say down in New Orleans, “in the meat.”
In the end, Wayne Newton is the only Vegas entertainment story appearing
last month that would have made any sense to my 1985 self.
Hey, how about a Doctor John residency? Doctor John—In the Meat.Now
that, I’d go see.Sammy Davis Meets
John Bon Jovi
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