Joint Memories

There are lessons to be learned from the yard o' beer.

Same goes for the all-you-can-eat buffet, the spires of Excalibur, the bust lines of the gals at Treasures.

In Vegas, the idea that bigger is always better, less is never more -- unless we're talking about jail time -- isn't just a cliche, it's an operating principle, one that's practically encoded in the city's DNA.

Still, there are a few exceptions.

And The Joint at the Hard Rock Hotel is one of them.

The best thing about the venerable, 2,000-capacity concert hall -- which is soon to be shuttered in favor of a new 4,000-capacity room set to open in April that will also be called The Joint -- is that it's a place where you can see acts that normally play large arenas, amphitheaters, even stadiums, in a much more intimate, up-close-and-personal atmosphere.

There are not many places in the world where you can see a band such as, say, Metallica, outside a 20,000-seat enormo-dome.

But The Joint long has been one such place, and for the past 13 years, Las Vegans have been treated to shows that you couldn't catch anywhere else in the world.

As the original Joint gets ready for its last hurrah with a pair of Motley Crue concerts this Friday and Saturday, we take a look back on the loud legacy of the venue through the eyes of some of the R-J entertainment writers who have covered it from the beginning to the end.

The Joint brought a new vibe to an old-school town

1995-2000

Standing next to Sting at neighboring urinals? Ain't gonna happen at the new Joint, I can guarantee.

But the first one was built with Peter Morton's naive "Humanity is instrumental" notions of rock 'n' roll egalitarianism, before VIP boxes were the prime concern and the old Joint's balcony had been converted from cheap seats to de facto celebrity roost.

Hence, Sting having to use the same restroom during the Rolling Stones concert in February 1998 as the wasteoids who started shouting "Sting! Yo Sting!"

I glanced sideways and there he stood. "He didn't wash his hands," someone remarked as he hurried out. Can you blame him?

The Joint's basketball-gym design didn't put much thought into sound engineering either. A reliable spy told me that on opening weekend, The Eagles' sound guy had people spray-painting Styrofoam panels and hanging them from the walls to cut down the echo.

Still, The Joint was like nothing this town had seen. It's hard to remember the day when the casinos had nothing to bridge the gap between the old table-and-booth showrooms and sports arenas.

And Morton did bring out the celebrities. The Hard Rock helped make Las Vegas cool again from opening night, when the red carpet was a new concept. Nicolas Cage held court with reporters in front of The Joint's double doors, making wonderfully weird comparisons between that rainy, cold night and the opening of Bugsy Siegel's Flamingo.

I don't think the little round cocktail tables ever came out again after the first-night concert with several acts, filmed for MTV on March 10, 1995. But Johnny Rotten was sitting at one of them, unprotected by velvet ropes, with only his evil stare to ward off reporters. Melissa Etheridge went from singing with Al Green onstage to hanging with Ellen DeGeneres and Lara Flynn Boyle at the bar.

The operation got more refined and less friendly, with form following the function of packing in more bodies and pressing those who bought standing-room tickets into the bar area.

The Joint hosted everything from Rob Zombie with indoor fireworks (1998) to Neil Young unplugged (1999). I remember having a better time at the shows that were more comfortable for lighter attendance, such as King Crimson or Lyle Lovett (both 1996), than elbowing for glimpses of the Stones or The Who's sadly perfunctory set less than three months after John Entwistle's 2002 death inside the hotel.

Putting big acts in a small room also inspired a backlash among locals not yet used to $250 Steely Dan tickets in 1996. But Billy Joel held the price to a democratic $50 in April 1999, and cozied right up to the downsize venue. I'm sure he'll be invited to check out the new Joint, too.

-- By MIKE WEATHERFORD

New century brings big stars to Hard Rock venue

2000-2005

Let's just remember who played intimate shows at The Joint in a five-year stretch: the Rolling Stones, David Bowie, The Strokes, Robert Plant, Stone Temple Pilots, Tom Petty, The Deftones, Beck, and on and on.

But just because bands had big names, that didn't mean they were good. The Stones, for instance, kept everyone waiting for about 90 minutes in 2002. The Stones slept through their set, by the sound of it. I didn't see any of it, because it was oversold. I was stuck in a sea of rich people near the doors, which sloped downward in a way so that all I saw was the backs of old-fan heads.

Maybe the worst was The Wallflowers in 2000. They apparently decided not to play their pop ballads as softies, but as a RAWK band. So they turned up the volume so loud, I walked out into the Hard Rock hallway, and it was still an embarrassing din. Idiots.

Then again, I saw some of my favorite shows of all time in The Joint. The most emotional concert of my life was Rufus Wainwright in 2004. His piano-vocal performance of his exquisite "Want" album was so touching, grown people were crying even when the songs were uptempo. That is, they were crying not because the songs were sad, but because they couldn't believe how beautiful every song was. Three different groups of friends told me afterward it was their favorite concert of their lives.

Natalie Merchant hit The Joint right after Beatle George Harrison died in 2001. In a black mourning dress, she sang, "You're asking me, will my love grow?" Tears, all the way around.

There was always another big show to see for tickets costing small fortunes. Masterful were The Deftones, Stone Temple Pilots, Tom Petty and Depeche Mode, though DM's crowd was a bunch of rude, vomiting jerks. Jane's Addiction brought strippers who squirmed on a giant seesaw, in their feather hats and rhinestone G-strings. The Strokes were fun but got blown off the stage by opener Ben Kweller.

There was often a scene to be seen. At an Eagles sit-down show, the Wynns stood arm in arm and danced to my left, while behind me, a model/future TV starlet let a server pour Patron tequila into her mouth from the bottle.

If there was one show for a VH1 "Behind the Music"? The Who was set to play The Joint when John Entwistle died in his sleep at the hotel in 2002. My interview with Entwistle, perhaps his last, ran on the day of the show, because he died past printing deadline. The medical examiner said it was a heart attack brought on by cocaine.

Although, my favorite horror show was Lou Reed in 2003. He showed up late, couldn't remember words to songs, then got angry at fans for chatting at the bar, so he stormed off, had liquor sales stopped, had hecklers thrown out of the show, came back on and left again, and didn't resume for like an hour.

It was so heinous, people called friends to tell them Lou Reed was self-destructing. Friends of mine started showing up mid-non-show to wait for Reed to retake the stage in a slurry meltdown. Sometimes, a terrible show is far more entertaining than a moderately good show. Thanks, Joint, for most of them.

-- By DOUG ELFMAN

Highs outweighed lows

2006-present

Everyone's had that moment at The Joint, you know, where you might as well have legs poured from concrete.

You barely can move -- and you wouldn't really want to anyway.

At times, seeing shows at The Joint has felt like one of those funny-if-you-were-there moments where a bunch of goofs see how many of themselves they can cram into a phone booth.

Then, you really did wish that everyone used Dial -- this was normally around the time you were wearing the guy next to you's armpit for a hat.

For me, one such night that stands out was seeing the Beastie Boys absolutely pack the room in the fall of '06.

I remember being pressed against a wall along the stairs, vacuum-packed in place, a gnat on some flypaper, as the Beasties bounded through a breathless, diffuse set of free-range hip-hop and sneering punk rippers that touched on everything from Kool and the Gang's "Hollywood Swinging" to Black Sabbath's "Sweet Leaf."

As I remarked at the time, I'd never seen so many white dudes do the robot.

And there have been plenty of other highlights at The Joint over the past three years.

The first concert I saw there, the Strokes in March '06, was an equally sweaty and sauced firecracker of a gig; the Sex Pistols demonstrated that they still had plenty of live rounds in the barrel when they snarled into the place last June; got a kick out of watching Gwar behead a faux George Bush in a riot of blood and goo in October '07.

Whether I was a fan of bands such as the Foo Fighters, Linkin Park or Fall Out Boy, just to name a few, it was always a memorable occasion to catch an act at The Joint that could normally only be seen in much more cavernous confines.

No, they haven't all been winners -- this is Vegas, even the hottest of hands are going to crap out from time to time.

It was a bummer to see Gun N' Roses, a band I've dug since junior high, turn in a bloated, by-the-numbers set in September '06, larded with a never-ending series of guitar solos -- one of the six-stringers actually played Christina Aguilera's "Beautiful" at one point, which was akin to being shoved face-first into a boiling vat of Velveeta -- while Axl Rose panted through the band's catalog like a winded Saint Bernard.

But the highs certainly trump any lows.

And with the venue's name and spirit (hopefully) living on in a new room, at least we know we'll still be able to fire up The Joint for years to come.

-- By JASON BRACELIN