The Hard Rock on The Strip Delights & 'Strips' All In One Night

​Let me first state, that I don't--in fact refuse, to review live concerts.  It's a worthless endeavor.  The writer (in this case it would be me) typically does  nothing more than sing the praises of or slag the performance of the bands but to what end? To impress a person who actually went to the event?  Fleeting comments about concertgoers?  A boring read in my opinion.  But I'm making an exception in this case. ​​

Not because the bands were exceptional  although they were.  I'm sure youth & talent had plenty to do with my impressions of each band.  American Cream was dynamic guitar driven indie rock.  Royal Teeth exuded passion & enthusiasm.  The stadium ready reincarnation of mid '80's Simple Minds was channeled by A Silent Film.   Gold Fields, although in need of a little help from the gentleman manning the soundboard, we're an aural display of power, subtlety, & why live music can be a transforming experience.   But enough of these twenty something Alternative Music rising stars.  Again, this review is not about them.  I just won't review band performances.  I'm reviewing something much different!

You see, the evening of Alternative/Indie Music goodness got rained on every time I had to relieve myself by the guy pictured above!  Of course it wasn't this particular guy (at least I don't think).  But it was guy just like him except without a tux or bow tie...but still...  ​The fucking bathroom attendant!  I'm baiting you to read this 'review' by mentioning theses new hot happening bands I saw last night to actually make a social commentary.  I'm done!  I'm done with the polite guy in the 70's paisley vest  & his attempt at engaging banter.  Yes, I have a killer Ramones belt buckle but I'm wise to your game.  That conversation is bait.  Bait.  You know it Mr. Bathroom attendant & I know it as well.   Your compliments are nothing more than a play on my good nature & generosity.  It's evil.  You know it as do I.  Listen to a little of A Silent Film below to before wrapping your head around my angst.

It's no different than the welfare mother spitting out another kid for additional benefits!  You, Mr./Ms. bathroom attendant offer cologne/perfume that you got out of the back of some SUV at your local Kroger & expect me to fork over a part of my hard earned dough because you can endure the stench of human excretions for 8 hours.  There's a place for your kind.

It's called a Strip Club!  At least those people have something to hide & can actually put use to your 30 year old bottle of Polo.  Not a concert venue!  How long would your lot last if you were subjected to begging (Yes, I called it that) after a man has just whizzed in the trough of a NASCAR event?  Not long.  You'd be a bloodied mess after a 300lb guy wearing an XXXL Home Depot racing jacket rejected your offer of 30 year old Polo cologne & you,insisting with paper cloths for hand drying in hand, that his REDNECK BORN & RAISED belt buckle is 'cool'.   Not long indeed.  So let's put an end to this charade.  We don't need your help washing our hands after shaking our 'willys'!  In fact, we really don't want you to be around stripping us of spare change, a buck or two or even a fiver if somehow your winning personality guilted us out of our last bill smaller than a twenty!

We often say that the U.S. is somehow more callous than the past eras.  I say just the opposite!  We support the likes of bathroom attendants to a degree never experienced in modern history.  And if any profession is exemplar of the guilty kindness of Americans, it's the bathroom attendant at a concert venue & his/hers guilt ridden spoils! 
Finally, although a comfy, lovely venue with great site lines to the stage & everything you could hope for in a small intimate venue, The Hard Rock on The Strip must alter their drink prices to a reasonable rate and/or eliminate my pissing nemesis in the men's room!  You see, I'll buy more beer if I'm not paying a twelve pack price for twelve ounces!  Then I might not mind being provoked into toking a random stranger $2 for squirting soap into my hands.  But if you're going to charge those prices & continue your bathroom attendant welfare then I'm left sipping my beverage & holding my urine like a camel holding water while crossing the Sahara Desert!  Make your choice Hard Rock (and other venues like it).  Either he goes or I stop drinking altogether (an obvious bluff)! 

JRotten