Friday, March 5, 1999 | 11:37 a.m.
It wasn't the opening of the Lost Tomb, but this week's opening of Mandalay Bay impressed anyway. Just imagine thousands of people wandering around in their hippest ceremonial black, mouths agape, thinking the same thought: "I can't believe these are the same guys who built the Excalibur."
I was there to hear the House of Blues. Nothing more. On a previous tour, I'd checked the sight lines from every possible point in the room -- the stadium-setting balcony, the tiered main floor -- and knew that I'd have no problem seeing the star attraction. But I couldn't make a final judgment on the venue without trying it on for sound, and on that note, I made arrangements to see -- and hear -- Bob Dylan's opening night set.
It was not to be. Opening night was packed three-deep in VIPs -- from Quincy Jones to the brain trust of "Baywatch" -- and I was locked out of Dylan's show. Fortunately -- and with no small assist from fab publicists Bill Doak, Dana Olliges and Debi Puccinelli, thank you all -- I squeezed into the venue for the inaugural set by the Blues Brothers. I was in trepidation: Would it sound as good as it looked? Within five minutes, I heard my answer. The Brothers sounded absolutely brilliant, as did the room. If there were any flat spots, I never discovered them. (There's a little slap-back by the rear bar, but it's minor and nothing a shot of bourbon can't cure.)
From the opening number -- a killer version of "Sweet Home Chicago" -- Dan Aykroyd, John Goodman and James Belushi had the crowd more or less rigged. I'd almost forgotten what set the Brothers apart from other actors' vanity bands: These cats can cook, good enough to share a stage with Koko Taylor and Buddy Guy -- which they did. The suits bounced with genuine glee; a blonde in a black cocktail dress took off her shoes to dance in her stockings.
It's hard to impart the sense of place one feels at House of Blues. Rarely have so many new elements -- state-of-the-art lighting, MP3 audio house music, "outsider" art -- combined to make something that feels so established. It feels like it's always been there. And after I spotted Calamity Jayne in the crowd -- the driving force behind Las Vegas' first real rock 'n' roll club, and the godmother of live music in this town -- the foundation was more or less cemented in my mind. Welcome home, House of Blues.
Stereo Dynamics
* "Suicaine Gratification," Paul Westerberg (Capitol).
The only unfortunate thing about Paul Westerberg's new album is that critics are using it to belittle every other solo record by the former Replacements frontman -- "Finally, he comes into his own." I guess I was one of the few that found resonance in the sentiment of "14 Songs" and the weariness of "Eventually." The songs on "Suicaine Gratification" are very much part of that set, and belittling the path he took to get to them is a mistake.
As he grows away from his punk roots, Westerberg finds more strength in quietude. "It's A Wonderful Lie" shrugs at his inner brat ("I'm past my prime/or was that just a pose?") while the uneasy "Tears Rolling Up Our Sleeves" chugs along slowly, bulldozing everything that stands before it. And "Whatever Makes You Happy" will do just that, despite a cynical lyric.
It's a beautiful happening all around -- Westerberg's finest record since his last one. Get this and his two previous efforts and you'll have the soul of one of America's best singer-songwriters in your pocket, ready to soothe your own tumult, when needed.
Get out, act up
* Still smart, still savvy and still just six bucks a ticket, punk institution Fugazi plays the Huntridge at 8 tonight (see the story on 8E). Opening act Los Trios De Nada is one of Vegas' best-kept secrets. Call 477-7703 for details.
* Also tonight at 8, just a few miles and countless genres away, neo-swing outfit Big Bad Voodoo Daddy jumps at the House of Blues. Call 632-7777.
* Hey, Mistah Kottah! Local rock workhorse Epstein's Mother plays Gameworks at 10 p.m. Saturday. There is no cover; call 895-7626.
* And on Thursday, Chris Isaak brings his consummate entertainer shtick to the House of Blues. Don't miss him, if at all possible; he's the real thing: charming, talented and sharp as a tack. Maybe he'll tell you a little story or two, but only if you behave.
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