Thunder Boogie in the Glitter Gulch

Stuck in the middle of Illinois is a little place called Normal. In 1865, the town of Normal prohibited the sale of intoxicating drinks. That ban wasn't lifted until the early 1970s. Is it any coincidence that years later, as the alcohol began to take effect, that some sort of homegrown, grass roots garage-rock scene would emerge, thereby debunking Normal as anything but, well, normal? 

And out of that one-horse, dustbowl town emerged The Last Vegas, knee deep in pure Midwest, bluesy cock rock that fit them better than an old pair of sweat soaked leather pants. Ask drummer Nathan Arling and he will tell you that The Last Vegas swept through Normal just long enough to appreciate it.

"There was a bar called The Gallery that actually got shut down and everything kind of died and it started to suck. I mean it was a really just a small little shit hole place but it got a lot of cool bands because there was actually a cool record store right next to it that would book all the bands. It was a cool scene for awhile though, and it was a good place to live for a couple of years but we couldn't handle it anymore."

Leave Normal (the town and the state of mind) and travel up the road, a long stretch of weathered blacktop known as I-55, and there you'll find an old feather-dusting warehouse deep in the heart of Chicago that has a long and strange history. Now a converted loft, the warehouse has a congested air about it, a haunting presence that feels like part rock, part insanity, part crack house. The Thrill Kill Cult lived here. Close your eyes at night and you can hear the wheels of industrial metal burning. Nine Inch Nails lived here. Tortured screams. Ministry lived here. Now the Last Vegas live here, record here, and throw parties here. Not one to snub tradition, Arling promises his band will sprinkle a little of their own dust into the air.

And when it's time to hit the road, home becomes a 1979 custom van, purchased about a year ago from a pastor. The van is complete with a couch, bar, sink and bathroom. No hotels. Nothing fancy. 

"We always try to find some place to stay, like at the bar. Usually we'll find really cool and supportive people that will let you crash there and sometimes those people will be really, really strange and weird but that is kind of cool too. Part of being on the road I guess." 

Leave normal behind. This is Arling, his brother Adam, sleazy bass player Turbo, and Rory Davis. This is The Last Vegas.

"Seriously, this is what we are doing with our lives."

The rock n' roll lifestyle is an asylum for the truly insane and The Last Vegas have committed themselves. 

Six people live in the loft - the band and two of their crew. They live cheap and sleep on couches. They eat hot dogs and rice. They hustle, making money working odd jobs at clubs doing sound and hauling gear. They don't mind bouncing off the walls of their padded cell one bit.

"Honestly, if you want to play music full time or put all your time into that, which is what we're trying to do, I think it is real hard," says Arling solemnly. "That has to be your job. That has to be your priority. For us I think it is going to work a lot better if we just try to put all our time into that rather than working some other job nine to five and then playing on the weekends."

The Last Vegas are independent, operating without a record label, doing all their own booking and managing. It is the vision of control embraced by the consummate artiste who clothes himself in the glamorous garb of artistic freedom - there was once a better time and a better place. Arling remembers dancing with MC5, Kiss, and Guns N' Roses. He remembers rock as it once was. He wants to sign up.

"We are pretty young and it's kind of weird because there is a lot of connections to be made or just knowing people and all that bullshit. We are trying to establish ourselves more on the scene and just pretty much play music, do rock n' roll for the rest of our lives."

"It was music and art and balls and loud ass guitars and rock n' roll."

The sound of the 70s and 80s according to Arling. And now? 

"I think the state of mainstream music is all bullshit, it is all business and marketing, and I say who cares but that's probably just going to go in whatever direction it is going to go."

There is a hint of concern in Arling's voice, like a nervous child frozen in the dark, a vicious monster stirring under his bed. 

"I don't like any mainstream bands out there right now. I don't think any of them are that good. There's like a ton of smaller bands and smaller independent labels that are really good though."

The Last Vegas have played all throughout the U.S. where rock n' roll music can be found in small, sweaty clubs, where the good riffs flow as hard and smooth as Jack Daniels, where the sleaze coats the walls and sticks to your skin. It is in places like these that real rock n' roll exists and is swallowed up by tattooed arms and saluted with the bang of a head. 

"The reception has always been great I think," says Arling. "It seems like everyone wants rock n' roll, you know, bad ass bluesy rock but I don't know if everyone is playing it, which is cool too because I guess there needs to be all types of music, but I think the scene is good and I think it is getting better and better all the time. There are a lot of cool bands out there right now that are playing some good bluesy, hard ass punk rock and I think that scene is going to pick up a whole lot in the coming years because people are realizing what cool rock n' roll is."

When Arling says the word rock, he draws it out nice and slow with a gritty southern accent. Now that is cool.

"Sweating all over the place and bleeding on your instruments and just playing like it was the last time you were ever going to play."

The rock star's mantra.

"I think that is a cool mentality to take because you sort of have to give it your all and play as hard as you can until you puke or bleed on your instrument," says Arling. "We try to put a lot of energy and fun into it, you know, a lot of head banging and hair, maybe light a member of the band on fire, smoke flying, drums crashing, or whatever, you know, we just try and have a good time."

Hearing Arling describe it is painful. You want to be there. You want to get burned yourself. 

"When I go to see a rock n' roll show I want to just be blown away. I don't want to see someone intimidated playing their instrument. It is cool to see someone who can just take the crowd under control and just play a good rock n' roll set."

Amen to that.

"I guess it just is what it is."

The Last Vegas will soon be heading out on tour in support of their recently released self-titled album. The album's cover shows a rhinestone belt buckle that reads 'ROCK.' It is simple, dignified, sleazy. It is a bold statement. It is the truth, a bluesy, up-your-ass testament to rock n' roll music. It is inspiration that resides in the temple of rock n' roll manhood.

"We pretty much just took a picture of our bass player's crotch and we thought it looked cool," says Arling about the album cover.

It's that simple. And the future, seen through the dark haze of the rancid exhaust seeping from the tailpipe of a custom van as it sputters across the vast Midwest toward something bigger, is simple too. 

"I think we're just going to keep writing tons of material, keep writing good rock n' roll, you know, bluesy cock rock, and we'll just see what happens. Hopefully people keep picking up on it, you know, and keep realizing that good rock n' roll should be noticed."

- JW Warren