Anthnoy Bennett: Thrill Ride | Vegas Seven Magazine | March 14, 2013

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EvEnt

Dance to Your HealtH

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[ upcoming ]

march 22-23 Devil Dash 5k race at Bootleg Canyon Park (DevilDash.com) march 24 Las Vegas Valley Humane Society’s 17th annual Wag-a-Tail Walk-a-Thon (LVVHumane.org)

Photos by Teddy Fujimoto

March 14-20, 2013

No, more than 200 local kids didn’t sneak into a nightclub on Feb. 17 to get their groove on while watching DJs Vice and Lema perform. Rather, they were invited to take part in the Dance Against Obesity Camp J.U.M.P., a free childhood-obesity-awareness program presented by Tao Cares (the Tao Group’s charitable initiative), along with the Jump for Joy Foundation. In addition to grooving to the tunes of Tao’s resident DJs, children ages 6 to 17 were treated to performances by Visual Audio, the Prodigy Dance Crew, Sean and John, Hypnotix/WHK/TPB and the Rock Center for Dance. While the youngsters worked on their dance moves, parents and guardians attended a healthy-eating seminar led by Tao Group corporate executive sous chef Marc Marrone and Paul Rosenberg of Real Results Fitness. BMX pro Ricardo Laguna and boxer Lonnie Love also showed up to support the cause.


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The Cancer Chronicles

All the famous folks tell their hard-luck stories in this country. Why not me? By Steve Bornfeld

“how?” my docTor asked over the phone, her tone too urgent for comfort. “How are you still standing?” Damn good question. Especially when my body’s screaming, Pay Attention, Schmuck! Fatigue took a tire iron to my stamina as I increasingly collapsed into whatever chair or foor was near enough to catch me. Violent coughing felt like my lungs were staging a prison break from my chest. Food turned to chalk in my mouth, my taste buds declaring a work stoppage. Pals, co-workers and a motherly pharmacist remarked that I looked “washed out,” my face the shade of an unripe pear. Medically speaking: I felt like shit. And pretended otherwise. Being vertical meant being functional, which meant being fne. Finally, in late 2011, following months of living in slower and s-l-o-w-e-r motion, I succumbed to tests, nervously awaiting the verdicts. Bloodwork verdict? Internal bleeding, extreme anemia, iron infusion required. CT scan verdict? Suspicious abdominal “mass.” Colonoscopy verdict? Tumor. Large. Malignant. Yet this diagnostic juggernaut didn’t set off the emotional earthquake triggered by Those Words. Strangely, no one uttered them. Not a doctor. Not me. Though my brain comprehended, my psyche was in denial until Those Words turned up in stark black and white on a work-absence form completed by a hastily summoned surgeon, who insisted on cracking me open before the week was out. “Reason for Absence: Colon Cancer.” Sonofabitch. ••• Why share this? First, the news peg: March is Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month, and the American Cancer Society expects the disease to kill nearly 51,000 Americans—including 450 Nevadans—in 2013. (PSA alert: You’re 50-plus? Get your colonoscopy. I delayed. I paid.) Second, the

professional instinct: Writers raid their own experiences to interpret the world. Third … why not? Confession is what everyone on every network, cable channel, radio station, podcast, webcast, website, blog, Facebook page, Twitter feed and supermarket rag does in contemporary America. Once our innate self-absorption was sanctioned by Oprah, multiplied by reality TV and amplifed by technology, confession became a national passion. Celebrity disease? Juicy tattletales. We’re past decorum dictating what private matters get public airings. What’s left is determining motives and consequences. Tangible good came from Christina Applegate’s breastcancer battle when she created the Right Action for Women foundation to provide inexpensive MRIs. Ditto coverage of Robin Roberts’ bone marrow disorder: On the day it was revealed, donations to the Be The Match Registry spiked a mind-boggling 1,800 percent. Conversely, crass self-promotion marred ex-Monkee Peter Tork’s disclosure of a rare form of head and neck cancer—announced in a press

release, along with tour dates. More damaging are marquee personalities spewing medical voodoo. Consider Suzanne Somers, a cheerleader for unproven alternative cancer treatments. Or Ryan O’Neal claiming ex-wife Farrah Fawcett’s death from anal cancer was linked to their relationship stress. As if you could be henpecked into cancer. While well-intentioned, those Stand Up to Cancer specials that blanketed TV in 2008, 2010 and 2012 featured celebs’ earnest pleas to get tested—with no physician lending advice on who, exactly, were viable candidates for screenings. Famously, Katie Couric broadcast her colonoscopy, suggesting we likewise schedule ours starting in our 40s. Doctors say they aren’t recommended that early unless someone has severe symptoms or family history of colon cancer, making the procedure costly and unnecessary. Public confessionals also foster a sense of solidarity between stars and fans, an illusion given the enormous imbalance of resources and circumstances. Friends and family root for you. The world roots for them.

Yes, they endure it under the public gaze, but their support system is millions-strong. Celebrities also can afford superior health care that’s out of reach for fans often screwed over by insurance carriers. Angling for sick time at work puts many people in a fnancial vise and can even endanger employment. Stars postpone concert tours or movie roles that might cost them some green but don’t threaten their corpulent bank accounts. Worst-case: They’ll sell a vacation villa. You’ll get a foreclosure notice. ••• My own confession as a garden-variety cancer survivor? Before my surgery, an ex-colleague suggested that in the service of reassuring fellow patients, I chronicle my experience, including interviewing my doctors as they wheeled me into the operating room. Sorry—too raw, too of-the-moment, smacking of voyeurism. (Nor did I want to distract a doctor about to tiptoe through my innards.) Now, hindsight allows perspective and perhaps that reassurance for new—and frightened—patients. My epilogue:

Owing to an A-1 surgeon, my tumor was ousted from its cozy niche in my abdomen. Though its march through my body penetrated the colon wall, it hadn’t breached it to invade the lymph nodes and metastasize. Category: stage 2. Recovery required several weeks, and my sole souvenir is a surgical scar etched across my navel (lending it a je ne sais quoi most belly buttons lack). While chemotherapy was suggested, I declined after learning that doctors are divided over whether it provides tangible benefts at stage 2 colon cancer (it does at stages 3 and 4). Instead, I settled on regular monitoring. (Caveat: Each case is different, so patients should discuss options with their oncologists.) Another lab test on the tumor tissue placed my odds of cancer recurrence at 20 percent over fve years—higher than the 15 percent average my doctor estimated for stage 2, but still a four-in-fve chance the creep stays in the shadows. Meanwhile, I wear the “in remission” label. Whatever your stage, treatment or support system, cancer is a profoundly lonely experience and nerve-wracking showdown: You vs. The Body’s Ultimate Badass. You know it needn’t be to the death. Yet it could be. Stalking the vulnerable corners of your mind, cancer is this insidious nocturnal creature that hibernates in daylight when the world diverts you, and whispers at night when the world recedes. Peekaboo, I’ll see you … again. Yeah? Don’t plan on it, you prick. Hopefully, my confession yields useful advice: Don’t ignore symptoms (I did). Get a timely colonoscopy (I didn’t). Should it still slip past your defenses? Stare the bastard down (I do, every day). I crawled through cancer’s dark tunnel and came out the other side. Many others do, too. Life goes on, even for those whose names aren’t lit in neon. Me, I’ll just be grateful to remain “still standing.” As I write this, I still am.

Illustration by Garfield & Adams

March 14-20, 2013

The LaTesT

ThoughT



the latest

national

Gimme Shelter

Journalists take refuge in the world of branded content By Kara Bloomgarden-Smoke

March 14-20, 2013

The New York Observer

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Until December, melissa Lafsky Wall was the editor of Newsweek’s iPad edition, a job she landed on the strength of bylines in The New York Times, Salon, Wired and The Christian Science Monitor, as well as editing stints at the Huffngton Post and the Freakonomics blog. But as Newsweek was laying off staffers leading up to the death of its print edition, Lafsky Wall decided to go in an altogether new direction: Since January, she has been the director of content at HowAboutWe, a startup dating site with a blog about courting, relationships and romance. The articles Lafsky Wall produces are indistinguishable from those on brainier women’s blogs. Recent titles include “Millennial Women Rejoice: It’s Our Hookup Culture, Too,” “The Adventures of Dating in Davos” and “Beware the Rom Com Curse, Says Science.” They’re well-reported and well-written, helped by the fact that HowAboutWe pays at the high end of Web writing rates. “Working in a place that’s growing is amazing. Growth and progress … it’s like, thank God!” Lafsky Wall said. “And having a budget to pay writers is amazing.” Lafsky Wall is one of many journalists departing the desert of traditional media for the greener—but also grayer—pastures of branded content. A bad year for journalism, owing to layoffs at Condé Nast, Martha Stewart Living, Reuters and Hearst, and buyouts at The New York Times and Time Inc. has been a boon to this emerging feld. While writing gigs at magazines and newspapers continue to dry up, there are abundant opportunities to write or consult for blogs owned directly by brands. “We have editorial meetings every day; I run it just like a newsroom,” said Michelle Kessler, a former tech writer and editor at USA Today turned director of content for Qualcomm’s Spark blog. “I edit stories for Spark the same way I did at USA Today.” The new content model represents a shift in the way publishing has usually worked. Rather than pay a media middleman for eyeballs, brands such as Coca-

Cola are learning to attract them all on their own. “Instead of paying money to rent an audience, they can own their own audience,” said John Hazard, director of community for Contently, a company closely tethered to the branded content explosion. When the startup launched in 2010, its founders envisioned a site where freelance writers could be connected with traditional outlets—a sort of LinkedIn just for journalists. But, as it turned out, The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal don’t have a problem getting freelancers to pitch ideas. Brands, on the other hand, were deploying blogs as a cost-effective way to create buzz and needed creators who could lend those endeavors a note of authenticity, rather than simply churning out canned advertorial copy. Contently became a matchmaking vehicle for brands and writers—an unlikely marriage until recently. “Thirteen years ago, I was very religious about journalism. Even fve years ago, I wouldn’t have done it,” Hazard said. “But once

people realize it’s still journalism, they become more OK with it.” Contently’s writer roster bears this out; the company now has more than 10,000 journalists in its network. Last June, there were 2,000 names on the list. The fact that brand-sponsored blogs are modeled after traditional online media has been the key to their ability to attract writing talent. Urban Outftters, for example, has a women’s lifestyle blog featuring life tips, smartgirl celebrity crushes, food, photography and animated GIFs, not unlike The Hairpin or The Gloss. The only difference is that a lot of the “must-have” items can conveniently be found on the Urban Outftters website and there is a weekly post about Urban Outftters’ employee style. Then there’s Degree men’s deodorant, which wanted to align itself with active lifestyle coverage. Instead of buying ads on websites and in magazines already in that space, the brand decided to create its own. The Adrenalist, a Web magazine “powered by Degree Men,”

features stories about extreme sports, gear, gadgets and outdoor adventure, many of which are pushed out on Facebook to the brand’s nearly 790,000 followers. The only giveaway that the site is paid for by Degree is a link on the upper right-hand corner with an image of a deodorant stick and a link to the product line. “In-house, some people asked if they were going to compete with Gillette’s blog,” Hazard said. “The executives said, ‘No, we want to compete with National Geographic.’” For a frm such as Unilever, Degree’s parent company, content is a relatively small investment, and it is more effective than banner ads, which are starting to cause (to use marketing speak) bannerblindness among consumers and haven’t turned out to be as effective as was once hoped. Although it remains unclear whether someone who likes an Adrenalist skateboarding article will actually buy Degree at the drugstore, moving product is beside the point, explained Kyle Monson, a partner at the mar-

keting frm Knock Twice. Success is usually measured by the number of shares, likes and retweets a post gets—the same metrics by which traditional-online media judge themselves. “The costs are so much lower than for an ad campaign, so the expectation is lower, too,” Monson said. And the goals are long-term rather than immediate. “If we can build an audience over the years, then we can change how people think about the brand.” Unlike newsroom purists, consumers don’t necessarily see brand identifcation as rat poison. “It’s funny that at the same time that journalism is having a hard time holding on to an audience, advertisers are moving into that space,” said Justin Ellis, an assistant editor at Nieman Journalism Lab, a Harvard University project that explores the future of journalism. “But maybe people are more attached to Old Spice and Doritos than to The Wall Street Journal and The Denver Post.” Of course, there’s a long history of paycheck-starved journalists switching to the more remunerative feld of public relations, also known as the dark side. Doing so once meant hanging up the press pass, often forever. But with branded content, the lines are blurred. These brand-backed lifestyle verticals look and feel like the real thing— and many would argue, actually are—because there’s real interviewing and writing involved. Branded content is still a brave, conficted new world, but it also might end up being the future. For now, it’s a place to take shelter while traditional media outlets regroup, where some journalists discover more than just psychic and fnancial relief. “There’s so much more freedom,” said Lafsky Wall, explaining that there is less pressure to generate traffc at HowAboutWe than at Newsweek, because her company’s revenue comes from membership fees, not banner clicks. And then there’s that sense of being a pioneer. “I don’t have the weight of an older generation’s perspective,” she said.



























nightlife

Pauly D and Ryan Labbe

markets, such as San Diego, Los Angeles, Chicago, Miami, New York and Scottsdale. So, we put our name on that, and they know we know how to throw a party. We invite the key people in each one of those cities and bring a group of them out here, to get that brand awareness across. We brought people out to this last event that wouldn’t usually frequent Haze, or usually go to a Pauly D party. So now we’re introducing them to that, and hopefully get a return on the rest of them. The production alone was eye-catching, you know people walked in there, and we totally transformed the entire venue. How do you transform Haze for Turnt Up? We brought in a lot of production; we brought in LED walls to the DJ booth, to the ceiling and the trusses. We brought in a company called King Size LED from San Diego, and we brought in probably $65,000 to $70,000 of added LED walls. We changed the entire front of the booth. We brought in four CO2 things. We brought in four lasers. We brought in LED bars, confetti. We did it all, everything. We made it look like a brand-new venue.

Turns out, making a living as the life of the party is everything it’s cracked up to be By Sarah Gianetto

March 14-20, 2013

January 19 saw the debut of Pauly D’s 2013 Las Vegas residency,

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taking over Haze once a month with Turnt Up. On the heels of appearances on The Pauly D Project, Las Vegas party-maker Ryan Labbe takes care of business (that business being partying) with partner Jason “J-Roc” Craig for this Light Group endeavor. We got the fast-talking East Coaster to talk about being more relevant than your average reality-show personality, the Turnt Up transformation of Haze and his stage fright. Check out the next installments of Turnt Up with Pauly D at Haze Nightclub on March 23.

Turnt Up—what’s it all about? We’re trying to bring a different type of individual and a different type of concept to Haze. We think Haze is a beautiful venue, and we obvi-

ously recently signed on with Light Group in Las Vegas, so we wanted to make a high impact. This is Pauly D’s residency, so we use Pauly as the talent for these 12 dates. We’re looking to

Did you work on Pauly’s past residency, or is this a completely new endeavor? J-Roc worked on his residency, and that’s how I met J-Roc, because I was working with Pauly at the Palms. Then we flmed the show with him. Pauly then went to the Hard Rock; none of us had anything to do with the Hard Rock. Then the Light Group put in an offer for Pauly, and we chose to take him on as the talent as our frst project with the Light Group. Would you say that The Pauly D Project fuels the party in any way? Obviously Pauly D is a celebrity.

J-Roc has worked out here for a very long time. And I moved out here about a year and a half ago. I hit the ground running. I was very lucky to be put into the proper network of individuals. The show has helped with a great deal of notoriety, but when it comes to jumping back into the business aspect of things, it’s something that we’ve been comfortable with and been involved with for the majority of our lives. Pauly brings a generaladmissions crowd. He has his demographic in which he hits the ladies and MTV viewers and fans. What Jason and me do is we bring the other aspect of the crowd. We’re tied in very well to different communities that are feeder

You just don’t like talking, or … Eh, well I got that East Coast accent. It doesn’t come across properly over a microphone, I’ll tell you that. I get a little stage fright.

Follow Ryan Labbe on Twitter @RyanLabbe. Find out more about Turnt Up at TinyUrl.com/HazeTurntUp.

Photo by Teddy Fujimoto

So Call Me Labbe

integrate pop-up artists, such as Jay Sean for the frst one. For the second one, we’re looking right now to integrate some additional talent, which is unadvertised, so that people feel like they get something a little extra with their ticket price.

How do you and J-Roc divvy up the business of partying from the business of business? We really work well together. Because if I miss on something, or he misses on something, we catch up. I deal with the budget, the logistics of things, and some creative. J-Roc really sticks to the creative, the production aspect, the timelines, stuff like that, so we complement each other very well in that manner. When it comes to the actual venue, he’s on the mic. I’m more at the [VIP] table making sure we’re hosting people properly. I’m not a mic guy; the last thing I wanna do is get on a mic.















IF YOU OBEY ALL THE RULES YOU MISS ALL THE FUN.

DINING / FASHION / NIGHTLIFE

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dining

“These two closures are huge losses. Everyone with better than a Styrofoam palate knows that Sammy is one of the best culinary minds in the West.” A SmAll bite {pAGe 70}

An octopi roundup, Diner's Notebook, why kale is trending and new Bloody Marys on Fremont

The search for Las Vegas’ best octopus dish is ongoing—and delicious

Photo provided by the Barrymore

By Xania Woodman

i love octopuS. But let me be more specifc: I love octopus when it has a heavy char on the outside, is tender on the inside and is dressed lightly, perhaps, with just high-quality olive oil, a little lemon juice and some spices that lean in the direction of the cuisine. The freshest I’ve ever had was two summers ago in Marsala, Sicily, a specimen that perhaps moments ago had

been cruising sunken ships before becoming my post-winetasting lunch. But my frst real experience with the octopus was when Lavo opened in the Palazzo, and it was the one that converted me from octodoubter to octo-diner. Since then, I’ve been on a mission, devising my own Las Vegas octopi chart, of sorts. And I’m not nearly fnished. In the

Braised Mediterranean octopus, arugula, piquillo peppers, taggiasca olives and mint vinaigrette, Due Forni As attractive on the plate as it is delicious, this polipo (Italian for octopus) antipasti perfectly captures the favor of the Mediterranean. Here, the octopus is braised for more than fve hours in red wine, herbs and garlic. Thanks to Due Forni’s two high-temperature ovens, the octopus receives a great char outside, while retaining the tender interior. Served over greens tossed in mint vinaigrette with Italian taggiasca olives and sweet Spanish piquillo peppers, it is a tender/crispy,

tangy/sweet experience that should be paired with one of owner Alex Taylor’s hand-selected wines. $11.95, 3555 S. Town Center Dr., 586-6500.

fresh shell beans that have been slowly cooked with pancetta and aromatics until they are smooth and creamy. $21, in the Venetian, 266-9977.

Grilled octopus with fagioli marinati and spicy limoncello vinaigrette, B&B Ristorante A signature dish since Day 1, B&B’s grilled octopus is a staff recommendation you should take. Executive chef Jason Neve creates a refned-rustic dish in the “cucina povera” style of Mario Batali, where simple ingredients are elevated to a noble stature. Octopus is braised with a wine cork (purported to bring about the perfect texture) then quickly crisped on the grill for a slight char. Next it is dressed with a spicy house-made limoncello vinaigrette and served with

Catalan-style grilled octopus with papas bravas, spicy tomato, chorizo oil and celery leaf, the Barrymore This is my go-to working dinner. Corporate executive chef Anthony Meidenbauer braises Mediterranean octopus for two hours, chills it, and tosses it in olive oil and parsley before taking it to the grill. After it gets a good char, he serves it with papas bravas, crisp fried potato cubes, with garlic aioli and piquillo pepper and tomato puree. It’s a great match for a

[ Continued on Page 70 ]

69 VEGAS SEVEN

All Up in Arms

meantime, here’s an octopus’ dozen—nine great ways you can try tentacles right now.

March 14-20, 2013

Catalan-style grilled octopus at the Barrymore.












Music

Gravehill will play Cheyenne Saloon on March 16.

March 14-20, 2013

No Más Musica subterráNea?

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YaYo Taco, the university-district restaurant that has recently hosted the best underground metal and punk shows in the history of Las Vegas, remains closed. Shuttered by the Southern Nevada Health District on February 28, Yayo has a history of earning demerits and penalties. And of being shut down for violations. Last year, the taquería’s owner, Cho Yiu, took public his ongoing battle with the district’s inspection system, getting the attention of KTNV Channel 13 chief investigative reporter Darcy Spears in September. It was a war Yiu couldn’t win. With Yayo’s future unclear, promoters who had been booking national and international bands at Yiu’s restaurant moved the music to Favorites, a dive bar just blocks away. Losing these always-attended events clearly affected Yayo. Earlier this month, local punks organized a beneft show to help Yiu pay a $700 fne to reopen. But Yiu insists he will stand on principle and not bring Yayo online until the district revises its poor rating of his restaurant. Of course, Yiu has previously closed Yayo for weeks at a time to go on extended surfng jaunts. Maybe after hanging 10 in Costa Rica, he’ll return to dishing tacos and hosting kickass concerts in Vegas. Two underground shows you shouldn’t miss: First, California death-metal thrash-revengers Gravehill dig into Cheyenne Saloon at 8

p.m. March 16. Fronted by Metal Maniacs writer Mike Abominator, these guys offer a blood-drenched stage show à la GWAR and cruelly imaginative songs such as “Consumed by Rats.” I emailed Abominator about his lyrics that, unlike those growled by other metal bands, are intelligible. He replies: “[‘Rats’ is] about a serial killer living in the sewers. He kidnaps victims and brings them down into his infernal dungeon of terror flled with rats. He kills his victims by cutting them, letting their blood fow and leaving them tied up for the rats to fnish off.” Seriously, how could you possibly skip this? Second, Phoenix grindcore act Landmine Marathon detonates Bunkhouse Saloon at 9 p.m. March 19. The band kicks off a weeklong West Coast tour here before joining Napalm Death, Dying Fetus and Phobia at the Obscene Extreme festival in Mexico City. This Bunkhouse show marks the debut touring appearance of new Landmine Marathon vocalist Krysta Martinez, who replaced outgoing singer Grace Perry in October. The band’s most recent disc, 2011’s Gallows, was hugely praised, and the Marathon is writing new material for a follow-up. I’ve confrmed the band will road-test brand-new songs! My all-time favorite Yayo show was probably San Francisco black-metal band Deafheaven in January 2011. What’s yours? Email Jarret_Keene@Yahoo.com.



a&e

concerts

LVH Theater, March 8

March 14-20, 2013

Few women in rock have been able to bridge their talent and image as well as Pat Benatar, and even fewer have managed to sustain both so gracefully. No longer the 1980s queen of rock whose MTV-ready look was famously “cultivated” in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, the

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60-year-old Benatar still has a youthful vibe about her. She looked fit as she took the stage, her voice clear and strong from the get-go, giving the essential energy to “All Fired Up” and “Invincible.” Sharing the bill with guitaristhusband Neil Giraldo, her musical and personal partner of nearly 35 years, Benatar explained the origins of songs such as “Hell Is for Children” (from reading a New York Times story on

child abuse) and the significance of “You Better Run” (the second song ever played on MTV). Giraldo showed himself to be an underrated guitarist, turning in a fiery solo in “Promises in the Dark” while also jumping behind the piano on “We Belong,” with only a bassist and drummer sharing the stage with the couple. With a voice still possessing its sexy snarl and raw conviction, Benatar doesn’t have the range she once

had. But she delivered each song with authority, bringing the crowd to its feet for the rest of the show with megahits “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” and “Love Is a Battlefield,” helping keep the rust of nostalgia from tarnishing each tune. After Benatar took a break a little more than an hour into the show, her encore was a bit lackluster, with lesser tracks “Everybody Lay Down” and “Let’s Stay Together” (not the Al

Green song) being included over, say, “Fire and Ice” or “Shadows of the Night.” But the night got an appropriate sendoff with the hard-driving “Heartbreaker,” complete with Giraldo biting “Ring of Fire,” Led Zeppelin’s “Heartbreaker” and The Godfather theme in his final shot in the spotlight. In the end, however, Benatar remained the true star, still the coolest chick in the room. ★★★✩✩ – Sean DeFrank

AnuheA

Vinyl at Hard Rock Hotel, March 9 This 27-year-old Maui girl has seen her career rise on the tide of her easily accessible reggae and bluesy pop. Anuhea’s wide-ranging voice swam and sparkled across an appreciative floor full of swaying island expats. With songs such as “No Time,” she wanted us to know that any broken heart can be mended and that love is always good. Angst-free relationship songs, such as “Higher Than the Clouds,” encouraged us to embrace a revisionist history of our first time. Even in “Fight for Me Tonight,” a piece encouraging a little healthy male competition for her attentions, she made it clear she doesn’t “like seeing blood.” Shutting down her show with “Simple Love Song” spiked the point. All this blissful chilling didn’t make for compelling art, but Anuhea’s groove and solid vocal wooing were undeniably attractive. Her unprepossessing, uncomplicated and almost naïve world-view made this haole want to order an umbrella drink and drift off on Anuhea’s sentimental raft. ★★★✩✩ – Kurt Rice

Pat Benatar photo by Wayne Posner; Anuhea photo by Myron Hensel

PAt BenAtAr




March 8 - 15 help out By dining out Spring Las Vegas Restaurant Week is back! More than 75 of the fnest restaurants in the city will serve signature 3-course meals for unbelievable prices.

A food lover’s pArAdise. But it gets better. Up to $6 from every meal goes directly to Three Square Food Bank, staying right here to help fight hunger in our community.

s e e A l l t h e m e n u s At:

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stage

they deliver barn-burners (“Uptight,” “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,” “Dancing in the Street”), mid-tempos (“Get Ready,” “The Way You Do The Things You Do,” “I Can’t Help Myself,” a.k.a. “Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch”) and swooners (“Ooo Baby Baby,” “My Girl,” “Just My Imagination”). Total: 20-plus chart-toppers. Though the magic of the music alone could carry this show, the lads—brothers Andrew and Mike Tierney, Phil Burton and Toby Allen—make for personable hosts with appealing earnestness. Un-hip though it is to lack “edge,” Human Nature’s between-tunes banter—kidding each other, recounting their Aussie boyhoods, refecting on their careers, chastely firting with women in the audience, even showing home movies—is aw-shucks adorable. Should irony, sarcasm and aggressive hipness be your thing, Human Nature won’t be. Should timeless music and guileless charm be your thing, you can hear it through this grapevine. Human Nature 2.0 is nostalgia nirvana. STRIP POSTSCRIPT: Rejoice, ye connoisseurs of classy, golden-age Vegas—The Phat Pack is back. One of several shows shuttered when management squabbling broke out over the Plaza Showroom’s operations, this variety-style slice of heaven—starring enormously talented Bruce Ewing, Ted Keegan, Randal Keith and musical director Joey Singer—gives Downtown entertainment an upscale sheen. Showtimes are 5 p.m. Wednesdays-Sundays. No offense intended, but get your phat ass over there. Snap your fngers, tap your toes and tell me your favorite Motown hit by emailing Steve.Bornfeld@VegasSeven.com.

March 14-20, 2013

every town—at least in these United States—is Motown. Resist those grooves, beats and moves and you might get your citizenship revoked. Can’t get off to “Get Ready”? Bolshevik. This town is more “Mo” than most. Credit Human Nature, the Aussie foursome that since 2009 has re-created Motor City magic in Las Vegas, and recently motored over from Imperial Palace (now the Quad) to the Venetian, settling into a new residency at the Sands Showroom. Tweaked rather than overhauled, their production, built on the legendary label’s vast hit catalog, remains a pleasure. This likable quartet matches rich harmonies and authentic soulfulness with old-school sweetness. Being “presented by” Smokey Robinson doesn’t hurt either. Faithful fans will note a few upgrades, beginning with a slick new stage that is contemporary—and enlivened by inventive video tricks on a backing screen—yet recalls the old TV variety shows on which the original Motown artists appeared. Several numbers, most notably “Dancing in the Street,” have been refreshed with new synchronized steps, and a cool retro moment has the guys in a video duet with a young Smokey. Slightly spicing up the set list—that wall-to-wall onslaught of seemingly endless hits—is the inclusion of Marv Johnson’s relatively obscure “Come to Me,” the frst release by Berry Gordy’s predecessor label, Tamla Records, later enfolded into Motown. Also tossed in as a departure is “Everytime You Cry,” an original Human Nature hit in their Down Under homeland before they fully embraced Motown and America. Mixing it up well and backed ferociously by the Funk Foundation band,

89 VEGAS SEVEN

Photo by Denise Truscello

new show reinforces that loving Motown is just ‘huMan nature’



movies

A Good Day to Die Hard (R)

Beautiful Creatures (PG-13) ★★✩✩✩

Based on the young adult novel, this film follows high school senior Ethan (Alden Ehrenreich) who is plagued by a recurring Civil War-era nightmare. The girl in his dreams resembles the new girl in town, Lena (Alice Englert), who is a “caster,” or a person with supernatural abilities. Love between a mortal and a caster comes with its risks, of course. Emma Thompson, Jeremy Irons and Viola Davis support, but it’s not the strongest effort in the genre.

Identity Thief (R) ★★✩✩✩

★✩✩✩✩

The fifth installment in the franchise, this film is a lousy action movie in its own right. John McClane (Bruce Willis) is back, traveling to Moscow to retrieve his son (Jai Courtney). McClane the elder discovers his son is really a CIA spook trying to keep a Russian dissident (Sebastian Koch) alive long enough to turn over a top-secret file. Chase scenes are over the top, and the violence takes the film so very far away from what made the original movie so good.

Unfortunately, this road-trip movie fails its stellar stars. Denver businessman Sandy (Jason Bateman) discovers his identity has been stolen, his credit ruined. To fix things, he must track down the culprit, who happens to be Diana (Melissa McCarthy), a Florida con woman. The two go on the road to make things right, all the while followed by bounty hunters. Bateman and McCarthy are great performers and likeable, but the material is so dreadfully inferior, there’s just not much to see here.

Side Effects (R) ★★★✩✩

Warm Bodies (PG-13) ★★★✩✩

This sly film from Steven Soderbergh is a deftly plotted look at pharmacological states of mind. Emily (Rooney Mara) is a tense Manhattanite whose husband (Channing Tatum) gets out of prison. They struggle to connect, and Emily is prescribed antidepressants by her psychiatrist (Jude Law), who benefits from enrolling her in a drug trial. Blood eventually gets spilled, and Mara is a sphinx of an actress, never truly giving us a bearing on her character’s state of mind. It’s taut and worth seeing.

This goofy zombie comic-romance follows the undead fellow known as R (Nicholas Hoult), who “just wants to connect.” One day while hunting zombies, human Julie (Teresa Palmer) gets saved from being eaten by R, and both of their heartstrings go zing. The two of them fall for each other and wind up sparking a revolution. John Malkovich plays Julie’s father and leader of the movement keeping the zombies at bay. It’s a different twist on familiar themes, but lacks a certain something.

March 14-20, 2013

The new Nicholas Sparks movie begins as a desperate young woman (Julianne Hough) flees the scene of a crime in Boston. Assuming a new haircut, Katie gets off the bus in Southport, North Carolina, gets a job at the diner and a cabin, and starts sharing smoldering looks with town widower dad (Josh Duhamel). Katie has something to hide; Duhamel has some grieving to do; and the filmmakers have some sunsets to film before things get violent and threatening. Which they do. It’s OK, but like most Sparks movies: meh.

91 VEGAS SEVEN

Safe Haven (PG-13) ★★✩✩✩












Joe Elliott

Def Leppard’s frontman on his band’s Vegas residency, the joys of penning a stripper anthem and why Elvis remains The King By Matt Jacob

March 14-20, 2013

After surviving more than three decades in the cutthroat music business—selling in excess of 60

VEGAS SEVEN

102

million albums worldwide—Def Leppard has reached the stage where they’re bulletproof. Like an old man who says and does whatever he wants, the British quintet no longer has to worry about consequences—and they’re taking full advantage of that freedom. “We are essentially working for ourselves, not ‘the man,’” lead singer Joe Elliott says. “Anything we do now, we’re selling the brand. … We’ve come to the point where we realize that we are an iconic name—we are Heinz 57 varieties in a musical sense. It’s up to us how far we want to take it.” For now, they’re ready to take it to The Joint at the Hard Rock Hotel, where Def Leppard on March 22 will launch Viva Hysteria!, a three-week, 11-show residency in which the group will perform its 12-song epic Hysteria in its entirety, among other hits. But while Elliott admits his band is frmly in control of its destiny—for instance, the Hard Rock shows will be recorded for a future live album—he doesn’t want anyone to mistake contentment for complacency. “The one thing this band has never been is lazy. What’s the old cliché, the harder I work, the luckier I get? If our eyes are open, we’re working.” If someone had told you in the mid-1980s that, 25 years later, Def Leppard would have a three-week gig in Vegas performing Hysteria, how would you have reacted? I would’ve giggled my head off. Because Vegas was still the territory of Wayne Newton. I would’ve been like, “Will I have to wear a purple shirt and bow

tie?” In those days, Vegas was absolutely a one-off visit for a rock band. You played Vegas on the circuit, like you played Chicago, or New York, L.A., San Francisco, Seattle. And you saw the usual suspects on the Strip; seriously, back in ’87, there was still Sinatra and Sammy and Dino. When we played there in 1983, and I remember this very

well, I checked into our hotel and there were two tickets left [to see] Dean Martin—it was a day off for us—and I said, “I’m just going to go and get my wallet.” And when I came back, the tickets were gone. You’re the third rock band in 13 months to have a Vegas residency. What do you make

What’s going to be different about your gig at The Joint? We’re actually going to be our own opening act. We’re going to come out and play—I can’t even tell you what, because if I did, I’d have to kill you. Let’s just say the opening-act set [will feature everything] from the obvious to the completely obscure. And it’s going to be a different [opening] set every night. So we’ll do a set, have a short intermission, come back out and blast through Hysteria, and then we’ll see what happens after that. The challenge is that three of the Hysteria songs, we haven’t played for 25 years. So that will be like us reintroducing ourselves to an old relative. Speaking of Hysteria, do you ever catch yourself thinking, “Holy shit, our band made one of the most iconic albums of all time!”? Not really. When I’m prompted, yeah—I’m thinking of it right now, because you just mentioned it. But it’s not like I wake up in the middle of the night and think, “Holy shit, we made an iconic album!” There are people out there, no doubt, who say, “You made an album that’s the equivalent of Quadrophenia or Tommy.” But there are Who fans going, “Yeah, don’t think so!” It all depends what generation you’re from. … I don’t sit around thinking about

the past, as much as I accept the fact that our past is our future. When’s the last time a stripper thanked you for “Pour Some Sugar on Me”? It’s never happened—not privately, anyway. I’ve seen the odd interview on TV and heard the shows on VH1 where they have the “100 Sexiest Songs,” and “Sugar” is in the top fve, which is fattering, to be up there with a Prince song or Michael Jackson. But I’ve never actually had [a stripper] come up to me in an elevator, kiss me on the cheek and go, “Thank you.” I’m still waiting for that moment. Does it put a smile on your face that your band is responsible for one of the most popular stripper anthems of all time? Of course it does! Because rock ’n’ roll and sex are glued together at the hip. As much as some people grow up a little too quickly—“Oh, I don’t want my kids to think I’m a lecherous old man”—no, it’s not like that at all. You look at Mick Jagger, he might be a bit old and wrinkly now, but he’s still pretty sexy for a 69-year-old guy. “Honky Tonk Women” is one of the sexiest songs of all time. I’m glad [the Rolling Stones] still do it, and I’m glad the song exists. This being Vegas, and you being a singer: Elvis or Sinatra? Oooh, that’s a tough one, because I’ve got massive respect for both. But the truth is, Frankieboy was my dad’s music, and I totally respect it—you know, we all do “My Way” on the karaoke machine; well, I certainly do. … But when you hear Elvis singing “Suspicious Minds,” never mind “Jailhouse Rock,” you realize the domino effect. You take Elvis out of the equation, we don’t exist. There’s defnitely that six degrees of Kevin Bacon. I know some people might go, “What are you talking about? You don’t sound like Elvis!” Doesn’t matter. Somebody that infuenced us was infuenced by Elvis. Take Elvis out, we don’t get the infuence. So if you were asking me, [if] they were both at their peak and playing places simultaneously, who would I go see? The nod would go to Elvis.

How did Def Leppard stumble onto one of its biggest hits? And what’s the one song Joe Elliott struggles to perform in concert? Find out at VegasSeven.com/Elliott.

Photo by Linda Evans

7 questions

of this new phenomenon? Let’s be honest, [entertainment in] Vegas was due for a face-lift—sooner or later, there was going to come a time when the blue-rinse brigade died off. Now Vegas is infltrated by baby boomers who are moneyed-up, and … they don’t want to see Wayne Newton. They want to see Mötley Crüe, Guns N’ Roses, Def Leppard, The Who, Cheap Trick, [which] did their Sgt. Pepper residency in 2009. Vegas has had this injection of rock ’n’ roll, which it desperately needed. In a few years you’re going to see residencies by [bands] like Slipknot and Foo Fighters, because there’s going to be a market for it. It’s not just going to be Elton and Celine; it’s going to be hard-core [rock]. We’re somewhere in the middle; we’re not really hard core—but compared to Celine we are!


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