Top Stories Las Vegas

Rock Naked Wednesdays lives up to name

Nubile young flesh isn’t the only thing exposed tonight at Little Darlings.

That isn’t to say there isn’t a lot of skin showcased at this 18-and-up strip club. Actually, meandering through the chairs and tables of the club are more girls than seems necessary, their g-strings and painted nails glowing under the black light. A brunette on stage strips to nothing but knee-high socks. When she bends over she leaves nothing but her interior organs to the imagination. Oh, yes. There’s no shortage of exposed skin here.

Still, in their own way, the four dudes in the back corner are also working on exposure. They’re Jupiter Crash, the first resident band for Little Darling’s Rock Naked Wednesdays. Instead of working the pole, they’re networking with other musicians — and don’t worry, everyone in the band is fully dressed.

A partnership between sex and rock ‘n’ roll seems obvious, but Jupiter Crash lead vocalist Steven Crash has been told it’s never been done in Vegas before. “It’s a cliché,” he concedes, “but it’s a reality.”

The concept of a resident band inside a strip club is a bit atypical, especially considering the fact no actual performance is given. Instead, because the building isn’t equipped to handle live music, the DJ mixes the resident band’s (and any visiting band’s) music into the stream of Top 40 the strippers regularly dance to.

Any patron liking what they hear can meet the band and buy CDs. One patron last week bought multiple CDs for his daughter, Steven Crash says. The band thanked him, and promptly advised him to not tell her where he purchased them.

This one-on-one interaction, as well as having its name displayed on the giant billboard outside, helps the Seattle-transplant band’s name get out in the Vegas community. Meeting fellow musicians also helps. Guest bands to Rock Naked Wednesdays have included Otherwise, Sprockets and One Loud Secret. Tonight, it’s new wave-inspired Lips Like Morphine and Duncan Faure, a singer/songwriter once in Bay City Rollers. “We’re trying to build a community within a community,” explains Steven Crash.

And nothing says bonding like watching two half-naked chicks swing around poles on stage while you gulp down Red Bull (remember, no liquor here) and smoke a hookah packed with a flavor called “Sexual Seduction.”

Jupiter Crash has heard many of their songs (the most fitting being “In The Flesh”) played at Little Darlings since their residency began in January. Often, they sit right next to the stage and “show their appreciation” for whatever dancer is performing during the songs.

Having beautiful women dance naked to your music is surreal – something Steven Crash says Jupiter Crash could have imagined “only in our wildest dreams.”

Jaguars love to rumble

Love is in the air, or in the Rumble’s case, it’s in the Thunderbird Lounge at the Aruba.

This month’s installment of the free touring concert series embraces Portland-based electro-indie duo Jaguar Love, along with local acts Kids Meets Cougar and Pan De Sal.

With this lineup, there’s definite dance-party potential — as long as cougars and jaguars play well together.

The Weekly phoned Jaguar Love — singer Johnny Whitney and guitarist Cody Votolato — which is headlining all the stops on the West Coast, “somewhere in between San Francisco and Los Angeles” just after their Rumble appearance in the city by the bay.

How did you guys get involved with the Rumble?

Actually our manager knew some of the guys that did the Rumble, I think they were friends, and they got talking and thought it would be cool to have us be a part of it and you know — we really liked the idea. It seemed to be a good match.

How do you feel about playing with different local bands at each stop?

It’s cool — it’s always kind of a treat to meet people that live in the city and get their perspective on what’s going on there and everything.

Which city are you looking forward to playing the most?

We were looking forward to San Francisco, but I’ve been hearing a lot about Vegas. We had kinda a weird show there recently, so I’m looking forward to that one to be honest.

Why was the last show here awkward?

This summer we had a really last minute booked show at a weird little bar — it was like a tranny bar or something. It was cool though. It was just weird because no one was there. It was booked like a week in advance or something. But we had a show so that’s good.

You have a new album coming out next month, is it going to be similar to your last release or can we expect your sound to vary?

Yeah, March 2, it’s quite a bit different because we wrote this whole record by programming it. All the drums and bass are all synth and electronic drums so it’s got a more dance floor feel to the album than kinda the more rock thing that we did on Take Me to the Sea.

Will you be playing a lot of the new stuff on Sunday?

It’s gonna be only songs from the new record that we’re playing. We haven’t really had a chance to rework some of the old ones quite yet, but we’re going to be doing that on our next U.S. tour.

Speaking of reworking, you were a three piece on the first — what’re the perks and drawbacks to playing now as a duo?

The perks are it’s much easier to like set up and all that, and play. The drawback is sometimes in a live situation when you don’t have a drummer, it can kind of seem like not as vibrant or intense, especially if the PA’s kind of lackluster [then] our live show suffers a little bit because it kind of just sounds bad you know — but we always still put on a good show I think either way. Sometimes the sound is out of our control so we just perform the best we can.

What can fans expect from a live show?

We’re highly energetic when we play and we try to get the crowd involved. We spend a little bit of time usually in the crowd throughout the show, which I can’t tell sometimes if people really like it or if they’re really annoyed by it, but you know depending on the vibe of the show we’ll spend lots of time in the crowd playing. [We] like for people to dance and have a good time and leave feeling like they’ve experienced something that’s really cool.

I read somewhere that your name has to do with Johnny’s singing sounding like a jaguar’s scream, is that true?

No, that’s not true at all. I’ve never heard that, but it’s kind of funny! [Laughs.] No, it was sort of a struggle to come up with a band name and we went through a handful of different ones. Johnny had really wanted to use Jaguar in the name and I wanted to use Love so it was just like why don’t we just put it together? And it looked good written down, and it sounded good to us, so we just went with it. I wish I could say there was some deep meaning behind the name but it just kind of felt good. [Laughs.]

You were both former members of the Blood Brothers. Do you think you have a lot of the same fans from that or does Jaguar Love’s style attract a different crowd?

It’s hard to say, there definitely was a little bit of spill off but not like a ton. I think we’ve definitely just been creating our own world and being engaged in that. … Most people who like us know about the Blood Brothers but I think there are lots of people who are just finding out about us that don’t. … We’ve definitely gotten some criticism from people who didn’t know that, saying that we were ripping off the Blood Brothers and that the singer just sounded like the guy from [them] — which is kinda funny. … We try to identify with the Blood Brothers as little as possible, we don’t want to try and live off of that. It’s something to be proud of, but we’re also really proud of Jaguar Love and this is what means the most to us in our lives right now.

Exclusive: Felix da Housecat finds a home in Vegas

The Weekly has just received word of a brand new party and its sounds sure to be the cat’s meow. Actually, the new full-scale production party will literally be “The Cat’s Meow” and features DJ/producer Felix da Housecat as headlining resident.

“I have two or three people in my office that know what I’m doing and beyond that nobody knows,” says David Gutierrez, Vice President of Marketing for the Light Group at the Mirage. “I’ve been trying to keep it under wraps, but now it’s time to start to get the word out,” says Gutierrez, who previously worked for N9NE Group and helped create the astounding Perfecto party on Saturday nights at Rain along with the Friday weekly party for the late DJ AM. With Cat’s Meow, Gutierrez will be utilizing his talent outside the Palms to invigorate a week-day night party for an entirely different venue.

“Immediately after signing my contract with the Light Group, I got on a plane and flew to Miami to talk to Felix and see if I could get him involved in this,” says Gutierrez. “I pitched him the idea and he loved it. We were able to come to terms and he’s now going to be a resident for us. We’ll do this party four to six times throughout the coming year.”

And how does Gutierrez hope to top the production value of a successful big production such as Perfecto? By using the big top as inspiration.

“It’s going to be a full-immersion experience,” he says. “This party essentially is going to be a Coney Island-style event. We’re going to make it look and feel like a big circus. When you walk in, there’ll be circus barkers out front; we’ll have a lot of performance pieces, choreographed numbers and also a lot of props.”

Upon entering Jet, he says there’ll be a hallway of fun-house mirrors. The vintage circus-inspired theme will be continued all throughout the nightclub in décor and performances. Right before Felix begins his set, a special video intro shot on green screen will play.

The first Cat’s Meow featuring Felix da Housecat will kick off at Jet on Monday, March 1. “For me it was really, really important to do it on a Monday at Jet because I wanted to give something special to the locals,” says Gutierrez. “Obviously on every Monday anyone industry that comes to the door with a valid Nevada ID gets in for free, so that was really important to me to get the support of the city and get them to come out.” And who doesn’t love a circus?!

Love and squalor: Farewell, J.D. Salinger

For me at age 11, The Catcher in the Rye was a gateway book, leading inevitably to the harder stuff: Franny and Zooey, Raise High the Roofbeam, Carpenters, Nine Stories. Didn’t fully understand them then; not sure if I do today. My father’s bookshelves may have been standard fare at the time, but to me they were remarkable, then and now. And as I moved beyond Salinger, I learned to read above my age and grade—and not just for the dirty parts (which I’m still expert at finding). Thinking about Catcher again, I realize that we never talked about his books—our books—and it’s too late now. Anyway, I still have that Signet paperback, cover price 50 cents, its crumbly ivoried pages falling out in clumps. It’s not my reading copy, of course. I go back to Catcher every other year or so, and both book and reader seem to have changed every time. –Joe Brown

By the time I read The Catcher in the Rye, I was 16, a few years into a drug problem that began with childhood glue-sniffing. I had few social skills, had alienated myself academically and, rather than “phonies,” I considered my peers to be plastic people because I couldn’t accept that happy, goal-achieving people could be real. I had pretty much failed my way through junior high. I slept during class and only occasionally read assignments.

But something about Catcher grabbed me—the alienation, the loneliness, the voice of Holden. What amazed me most when I woke from my desk nap is that students were discussing these themes openly. Suddenly the plastic people had a realness to them.

Moreover, this was the first time the idea of a creative outlet hit me and planted a seed. Salinger didn’t save me from drugs or a reckless lifestyle, but he opened a door for me when I needed one, and I eventually walked through. By my senior year I was cleaned up and ready to move forward. Unfortunately, the underlying damage was still there and a new kind of hell was on its way. For that I had Salinger’s “For Esme, with Love and Squalor,” a beacon, so to speak. Thanks, J.D., for everything. –Kristen Peterson

Downtown gets Naked (City Sandwiches)

Two Strip chefs bring addictive sandwiches to the arts district

You’re drunk. You’ve been pounding beers and laughing at friends and freaks singing karaoke all night in your favorite dive bar. You need food, badly, but there’s nothing nearby that will satiate this specific type of hunger. We’ve all been in this position.

This is the unlikely inspiration for Downtown’s scrumptious new sandwich shop, Naked City, which opened on December 12. Longtime friends and East Coast transplants Christopher Palmeri and PJ Schaeffer just happen to be big fans of the borderline iconic arts district stronghold known as Dino’s Lounge. But they aren’t fans of the neighboring dining options, or lack thereof.

Photo: Jacob Kepler

One of Naked City Sandwich Shop’s creations.

“We got sick of eating at the White Cross,” Palmeri says. “We love this bar. We’ve been coming here as long as we’ve been in Vegas. We’d be here all night and then end up getting something to eat and regretting it.”

But unlike us mortals, Palmeri and Schaeffer happen to be professionals. Palmeri is the former executive chef of Diego at MGM Grand, and Schaeffer is still cooking on the Strip. So whether or not the ideas were born in an intoxicated state, plans were hatched. The first move was the creation of Guinea Pigs, a New York-style hot-dog cart slinging Sabretts Friday and Saturday nights in front of Dino’s. The cart also makes appearances at First Friday and other Downtown events.

One delicious street food led to another. The tiny smoothie shop next to Dino’s was closing. The bar’s owners operate the whole building, and their favorite regulars volunteered to step in. Originally, Palmeri says, they wanted to open a chicken-wing joint, being Buffalo natives. But the facility wasn’t right. Then the Naked City concept came on: sandwich simplicity.

Everything is made from scratch, from the roasted meats in the sandwiches to the garlic mayonnaise spread on top and the humongous habañero-spiced pickle riding shotgun. The only thing not created in-house is the bread, but even with a simple roll you get the option of a Kaiser, a classic Kimmelweck dotted with salt chunks and caraway seed or a Black Russian swirl. For proteins, choose between tri-tip, honey ham, turkey or Italian sausage.

Another surprise is the quality and quantity of vegetarian options. Three different salads can be ordered without meat, and the veggie sandwich is based on a stuffed-pepper pizza recipe Palmeri remembers from back East—a mix of eggplant, crimini mushroom and garlic.

“We want to give people options,” he says. “It turns out that over half the items on the menu are vegetarian … We don’t want a vegetarian dish to be an afterthought. It has to taste good.”

The menu will change and expand when the young chefs, who have two decades of restaurant experience between them, find the right combinations. “We’re going to put pastrami on, but we’re working it out. I’m not just going to go out and buy pastrami,” Palmeri says. “We are getting the brine just right. As we get more established, we’ll do everything. But you’re never going to see 50 items on our menu.”

Satisfaction is the name of the game, so Naked City delivers to Downtown businesses during the day and stays open until 10 p.m. Closing time is closer to midnight on weekends—and then the hot-dog cart comes out. “And the cart stays open until the people are gone,” Palmeri says.

As anyone who’s done karaoke at Dino’s knows, that can be pretty late.

The Showgirl moves on

Reflecting on Bette Midler’s exultant Vegas finale

As Bette Midler folded up her feathered fans—after singing the first verse of “Wind Beneath My Wings” to her orchestra, the next to “4,500 of my closest friends”—it felt like something more than a Vegas show was ending.

Midler began her two-year run as a headliner at the Colosseum at Caesars Palace in February of 2008—just as the toughest two years this town has seen were dawning. And as she leaves Las Vegas, it seems like a moment of star magnitude, of showbiz spectacle, of Destination Entertainment, is going with her.

“I survived!” Midler crowed, beaming as she made her Big Entrance atop a tower of Louis Vuitton luggage on Sunday night. She not only survived but thrived: At 64, she somehow looks and sounds even better than she did when she got here. (Must be that desert air.) And the show ended on a high note–I’ve seen The Showgirl Must Go On four times since it opened, and Midler and her crew continually revised, streamlined and improved it right up to Sunday’s last bow. Filled with exultant emotion and off-the-script surprises—including drop-bys from Hawaiian ukulele virtuoso Jake Shimabukuro, Marie Osmond, Gladys Knight and Celine Dion (via ginormous video)—her victory lap was probably unbeatable.

The unmistakable Bruce Vilanch was in the will-call line ahead of me—he’s recognizable anywhere, but in a Bette Midler ticket line, he is pretty much an A-list, and was politely signing programs and posing for pictures. Vilanch, who has written jokes for Midler for years, said he and her other writers were going to shout wisecracks at her throughout the night, and noted that he wouldn’t be at all surprised if she re-upped in Vegas in the foreseeable future, perhaps at a smaller venue, where she could be as spontaneous as she was on her finale. (Vilanch also added that he recently sat with Paula Abdul on a plane, and that she had been in negotiations about popping into Peepshow. We’ll see.)

On the final night of a show, all bets are off, and anything goes—everyone, especially the star, ready to let loose. Midler seemed energized and emotional, her hair now a blonde puff of curls that matched that of her bandleader and keyboard player Bette Sussman. She acknowledged the “strange and pulverizing times” of the past couple of years. She made “Twatter” jokes. She sang “The Rose,” warning the audience that the we could sing along, “in the sweetest kumbaya moment: the Jews, the Christians, the gays”—but only after the first verse, which was reserved for her alone. She sang “Friends,” a welcome favorite from her 1972 debut album.

“Last December, I was invited to sing for the Queen of England,” Midler said. “I felt very well prepared, because I’ve been singing for queens all my life. The Queen likes the Beatles—who knew?” Midler said, and in place of John Prine’s poignant ballad “Hello In There,” she introduced ukemaster Shimabukuro, who accompanied her on a lovely “In My Life,” then conquered the Colosseum with a solo “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.”

After a saltier-than-usual string of dirty jokes told by Midler in the character of ancient showgirl Soph, Marie Osmond crossed the street after her show at the Flamingo and shared “the Mormon F-word”: “Fifty.”

Midler famously played out Johnny Carson, singing “One For My Baby (and One More For the Road)” on the Tonight Show. And on Sunday she had her own tearful Carson moment, when Gladys Knight came out at the 11th hour to serenade her with “The Way We Were.”

After more than two hours, Midler graciously thanked the Colosseum’s cast and crew and brought them all onstage—the Colosseum’s ushers gave Midler a “perfect attendance” award. She faked out the audience by encoring with “My Heart Will Go On” —interrupted by a video tribute from Celine Dion—before singing, inevitably, about wind and wings and unsung heroes.

Midler’s arrival in Las Vegas felt personally significant to me. I was a 14-year-old gay kid in the pre-Internet suburbs when I first heard the siren call of Midler’s sighing, whispering, knowing, campy, retro-celebrating “Do You Want To Dance?” on the AM radio, and somehow I knew I was a member of a secret club. When I was agonizing about whether to take a job writing about entertainment in Las Vegas, of all places, the news that Midler was coming helped make my decision easier. Her show was the first big review I wrote for my new newspaper, the Las Vegas Sun.

I, for one, will miss her. And I can’t help but wonder what’s next: for Midler, for me, for Las Vegas.

The Showgirl moves on

Reflecting on Bette Midler’s exultant Vegas finale

As Bette Midler folded up her feathered fans—after singing the first verse of “Wind Beneath My Wings” to her orchestra, the next to “4,500 of my closest friends”—it felt like something more than a Vegas show was ending.

Midler began her two-year run as a headliner at the Colosseum at Caesars Palace in February of 2008—just as the toughest two years this town has seen were dawning. And as she leaves Las Vegas, it seems like a moment of star magnitude, of showbiz spectacle, of Destination Entertainment, is going with her.

“I survived!” Midler crowed, beaming as she made her Big Entrance atop a tower of Louis Vuitton luggage on Sunday night. She not only survived but thrived: At 64, she somehow looks and sounds even better than she did when she got here. (Must be that desert air.) And the show ended on a high note–I’ve seen The Showgirl Must Go On four times since it opened, and Midler and her crew continually revised, streamlined and improved it right up to Sunday’s last bow. Filled with exultant emotion and off-the-script surprises—including drop-bys from Hawaiian ukulele virtuoso Jake Shimabukuro, Marie Osmond, Gladys Knight and Celine Dion (via ginormous video)—her victory lap was probably unbeatable.

The unmistakable Bruce Vilanch was in the will-call line ahead of me—he’s recognizable anywhere, but in a Bette Midler ticket line, he is pretty much an A-list, and was politely signing programs and posing for pictures. Vilanch, who has written jokes for Midler for years, said he and her other writers were going to shout wisecracks at her throughout the night, and noted that he wouldn’t be at all surprised if she re-upped in Vegas in the foreseeable future, perhaps at a smaller venue, where she could be as spontaneous as she was on her finale. (Vilanch also added that he recently sat with Paula Abdul on a plane, and that she had been in negotiations about popping into Peepshow. We’ll see.)

On the final night of a show, all bets are off, and anything goes—everyone, especially the star, ready to let loose. Midler seemed energized and emotional, her hair now a blonde puff of curls that matched that of her bandleader and keyboard player Bette Sussman. She acknowledged the “strange and pulverizing times” of the past couple of years. She made “Twatter” jokes. She sang “The Rose,” warning the audience that the we could sing along, “in the sweetest kumbaya moment: the Jews, the Christians, the gays”—but only after the first verse, which was reserved for her alone. She sang “Friends,” a welcome favorite from her 1972 debut album.

“Last December, I was invited to sing for the Queen of England,” Midler said. “I felt very well prepared, because I’ve been singing for queens all my life. The Queen likes the Beatles—who knew?” Midler said, and in place of John Prine’s poignant ballad “Hello In There,” she introduced ukemaster Shimabukuro, who accompanied her on a lovely “In My Life,” then conquered the Colosseum with a solo “While My Guitar Gently Weeps.”

After a saltier-than-usual string of dirty jokes told by Midler in the character of ancient showgirl Soph, Marie Osmond crossed the street after her show at the Flamingo and shared “the Mormon F-word”: “Fifty.”

Midler famously played out Johnny Carson, singing “One For My Baby (and One More For the Road)” on the Tonight Show. And on Sunday she had her own tearful Carson moment, when Gladys Knight came out at the 11th hour to serenade her with “The Way We Were.”

After more than two hours, Midler graciously thanked the Colosseum’s cast and crew and brought them all onstage—the Colosseum’s ushers gave Midler a “perfect attendance” award. She faked out the audience by encoring with “My Heart Will Go On” —interrupted by a video tribute from Celine Dion—before singing, inevitably, about wind and wings and unsung heroes.

Midler’s arrival in Las Vegas felt personally significant to me. I was a 14-year-old gay kid in the pre-Internet suburbs when I first heard the siren call of Midler’s sighing, whispering, knowing, campy, retro-celebrating “Do You Want To Dance?” on the AM radio, and somehow I knew I was a member of a secret club. When I was agonizing about whether to take a job writing about entertainment in Las Vegas, of all places, the news that Midler was coming helped make my decision easier. Her show was the first big review I wrote for my new newspaper, the Las Vegas Sun.

I, for one, will miss her. And I can’t help but wonder what’s next: for Midler, for me, for Las Vegas.