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| - As the grand finale of a West Coast tour for three indie-rock bands, we booked a show at the Art Bar in Vegas last May and chartered a tour bus from Los Angeles that we filled with three dozen assorted partiers and fans of the bands. In other words, we essentially brought our hard-drinking audience with us, and the Art Bar didn't have to do a damn thing. You're welcome, Art Bar.
From almost the get-go, we were thoroughly disappointed. I could forgive the awful, unsafe, off-the-beaten-path location (and overpriced drinks) if the place was REALLY that cool. But it ain't; it's a hell hole.
Nearly everything we requested in our not-so-unreasonable "rider"--3 microphones, a sound man to run the PA, 2 drink tickets for the band members, a place to store our gear after the show until morning--were not provided. They were pathetically understaffed (there was only ONE Art Bar employee present for our show--an unbelievably rude bartender); so out of necessity, members of our entourage were unofficially "hired" by the bar (for no pay...not even a "thank you") to work as "bouncers" to check IDs and collect the door cover. We were even sent to the nearest casino cashier booth--a mile and a half walk from the Art Bar--to get $100 in 5-dollar bills because they'd run out. Total bullshit. A fly-by-night operation.
Because there were no mics on their stage (which doubles as a "storage area" for random bar junk) and because nobody ever showed up to set up their dilapidated PA, our chartered 3-dozen person "Rock & Roll Party Bus Tour Grand Finale" was ALMOST a bust. We literally sat around for hours waiting for the mics and a sound man to arrive. The rude bartender refused to do anything to help us out ("I don't know what to tell ya," he said repeatedly. "You're on your own.").
You're on your own? What a sorry excuse for a so-called "music venue."
Two hours late, we borrowed a single crappy microphone, figured out how to run their PA ourselves, and somehow pulled off a bare-bones show. Afterwards, we packed up our gear and disappeared into the Vegas night, all of us vowing never to set foot in that depressing, rude, and terribly-overpriced place ever again. To add insult to injury, we left behind some of our gear and as of this writing, Jesse Garon, the Elvis-impersonator owner of the Art Bar, has refused to mail it back us, despite promising repeatedly to do so (see www.vegaselvis.com). At first he told us that his car was stolen with the gear in it. Then he changed his story and said he had indeed mailed it (but conveniently "without delivery confirmation"). Classless. I don't trust the Art Bar (or it's owner) as far as I can throw them ("Viva Viagra," Jesse!).
We came all the way from Los Angeles on a chartered bus and brought the Art Bar 5 hours' worth of business and 40 more patrons than they would've had otherwise on a slow Sunday night (in addition to several hours of good music). And in return, they basically gave us a giant middle finger. Thanks for nothing, Art Bar.
I cannot over-emphasize how badly we all hated the Art Bar--every last one of us. On a scale of 1 to 10: The Art Bar gets a "0." ZERO.
Very simple moral to the story: If you're a Vegas local looking to try something new, avoid this armpit at all costs. If you're an out-of-town band booking a tour, do yourself a favor and score a slot at the DoubleDown Saloon.
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