Finally, here is my belated revoltingly frank and disgustingly candid “scene report” from my trip to the US this spring! Look, I’ve been regularly attending the Viva Las Vegas Rockabilly Weekend festival off and on since 2003 and its glory days are undeniably a distant memory. Like many festivals, it’s probably never fully rebounded post-Covid. But I’d argue the decline started when organizer Tom Ingram stopped inviting longtime VLV fixture and much-loved Ambassador of Americana Charles Phoenix to present his slideshows. What a joyless, buzz-killing move! Also, the venue (The Orleans Hotel and Casino) is in decay. (Although it must be said The Orleans raised its game compared to 2024, when the bars ran out of beer, stopped honouring drinks offers and shut early!). The vendors are tragic: any good, interesting vendors have been priced out over the years (or – let’s face it – may have gone out of business in this tough economic climate). What’s left is polar extremes of wildly expensive high-end vintage way out of my price range, and the most garish bad reproduction clothes. The VLV demographic is noticeably significantly older: the cost of attending is simply too high for most young people. Plus, there’s been a steep downturn in tourism to Vegas in general. (For example, the Burlesque Hall of Fame museum is permanently shuttering this summer due to the decline in visitors. Thank God we visited last year when we still could! The Orleans is probably hemorrhaging money these days, too). And for non-Americans, traveling to the US now is a frankly scary proposition (in the UK we’re inundated with horror stories about tourists being interrogated, denied entry – and even detained!).
Having said all that – I don’t mean to sound too jaundiced. If you go to Viva Las Vegas (or just Vegas itself) and don’t have fun, check your pulse! It was a blast reconnecting with old friends I only ever see at VLV, hitting all my favourite bars, basking in the sunshine (Bloody Mary’s by the pool! Palm trees!) and seeing some truly amazing musical acts.
Thursday 24 April 2025:
I arrived in Vegas on Wednesday night. (I’ll
never tire of arriving in Vegas by night, hailing a cab and whizzing past all
the neon-lit casinos). The reunited gang this year again was Kevin, Anne Kathrin
and Knut (aka the In-Kraut!) – but sadly no Louise (aka Weezie). Boy was that
devilish redhead and her madcap antics missed! Highlights of the first day: Sweet
Pea’s Hooch’n’Smooch meet-up. The LGBTQ meet-up. A ferocious set by Southern
Californian surf band Los Pakalolos on the Bienville Stage.
/ Above: Los Pakalolos /
Wailing, crotch-thrusting and cartwheel-turning rhythm and blues sensation Les Greene was the breakout performer of the Viva Las Vegas R&B showcase in 2024. Briefly, the ultra-charismatic Greene is a former American Idol contestant and provided the singing voice of Little Richard in the Baz Luhrman-directed biopic Elvis (which I will never watch - I’m allergic to the cinema of Baz Luhrman. Greene apparently sings “Tutti Frutti”). This year he triumphantly returned with his own solo set. Think of him as the fiercely pouting Little Richard and Esquerita du nos jours – with a nose piercing! No modern performer taps into the raunchy flamboyance of 1950s / early 60s rhythm and blues quite like Greene. Anyway, flaming creature Greene is pure sex and an ideal world, should be a mega-star in waiting. Investigate Greene’s song “Can You Keep a Secret?”
Hot on the heels of Greene’s set: Santa Ana, California’s Vicky Tafoya. Tafoya is my idea of total glamour: the teased jet-black mane of hair! The sequins! Those sensational trademark false eyelashes, like two black tarantulas glued to her lids! I’ve been watching the mighty Tafoya perform at VLV for years now, always been dazzled and it was gratifying to see her land this peak slot – and slay! For the uninitiated, Tafoya possesses a belting, soaring voice Ronnie Spector-like voice and her music is permeated in classic rhythm and blues and doo-wop. If VLV 28 had a royal couple, it was Tafoya and Greene. (They’d never met. I was quickly spoke to Tafoya in the hallway while Greene was setting up his merch table and she pointed out to me they’d never met – so it was me who introduced them! C'était mon plaisir! We all grabbed our phones for a red-hot camera session to mark this historic occasion!).
Friday 25 April 2025:
A day of Tiki barhopping. The UK simply doesn’t get Tiki culture right, so when I visit the US, I luxuriate in the genuine article. First, the Golden Tiki followed by the essential Frankie’s Tiki Room for more daytime Mai Tais. Miraculously, we even scored our favourite table in the corner! (Because, boy, it gets rammed at Frankie’s). Frankie’s Tiki Room will always be one of my happiest places on earth. Scatter my ashes there!
/ Above: hi-jinks at The Golden Tiki. Anne Kathrin and I, Knut and Anne Kathrin /
/ Above: cocktail capers at Frankie's Tiki Room /
I sobered up from my Mai Tai binge for the Rhythm and Blues Showcase (aka the Viva R&B Show) that night. This was another dazzling and memorable VLV musical highlight. Les Greene and Vicky Tafoya performed again (and rocked the freakin’ house), joined by the likes of ultra-poised and glamorous Tammi Savoy, the wildly charismatic Shy But Flyy (in another life, Ike and Tina Turner would have snapped Shy up as an Ikette for their revue) and Britain’s own The Treats (aka husband and wife duo Fifi and Gabriel). Fifi is a true star: every bluesy phrase, every elegant gesture, every mock-aggrieved campy eye roll she made was informed by great 50s divas like Ruth Baker and LaVern Baker. And even better – Fifi was snapping gum the whole time! So nonchalant! I’m pretty sure the Treats dueted on the old Dinah Washington / Brook Benton track “A Rockin’ Good Way” (or was it “Baby (You Got What It Takes?”) – my memory is misty.
/ L-R: Les Greene, Vicky Tafoya, Fifi, Shy but Flyy, Tammi Savoy and Bobby Brooks Wilson /
Other highlight: Deke and The Whippersnappers.
Saturday 26 April 2025:
/ "You may now kiss the bride ..." Couple getting married by Elvis impersonator at the car show /
/ Above: Patrick, me and Kitty /
Not going to lie – the car show felt underwhelming. The vendors were a massive disappointment. I wasn’t remotely curious about headliner Imelda May. We spotted a MAGA flag displayed on one of the cars. More happily, later that day, I had an emotional reunion with my old pal, burlesque performer Kitty Baby! I’ve known the vivacious Kitty - formerly of Seattle, now a Vegas resident – since the old days when she go-go danced (and shook her fringed outfits HARD) at VLV pool parties.
We opted to dig the pool party scene on Saturday afternoon. (Most people prefer doing it on Sunday, so there are long queues to get in, not to mention long queues for the bar!). On the plus side: surf band The Volcanics provided a perfect soundtrack. GREAT Bloody Marys. Swimming in the pool. Downside: the unexpectedly cool windy weather! In retrospect, this was the day I caught a cold.
That night: Kevin and I went to the Wild Records showcase (a truly great Los Angeles record label focusing mostly on Latino neo-rockabilly).
/ Some of the striking attendees at the Wild Records showcase on Saturday night. These two pics by Kevin - who has a good eye and is fast becoming the Diane Arbus of the rockabilly scene! /
Sunday 27 April 2025:
We revisited Champagne’s Café cocktail lounge, our big discovery last year. I will always love this vintage old-school dive bar with its good-natured sleazy ambiance and flocked red velvet wallpaper, but this year it felt a bit tepid – it just wasn’t the same without Weezie and Arlene (our gem of a bartender from 2024) wasn’t working when we visited.
Then: the Neon Museum. I can’t believe I’ve been going to Vegas since 2003 but had never visited this outdoor museum until now! The preserved vintage Vegas casino neon signs will make you swoon.
Monday 28 April 2025:
That morning, we all checked out of our hotels, bid adieu to Kevin and then Knut, Anne Kathrin and I split for Palm Springs. After collecting the rental car from Herz, we stopped off for a gut-busting breakfast at Omelet House. The décor is naïve outsider kitsch (the sign is pure Gilligan’s Island), the service is friendly, and the servings are unfeasibly gigantic. I still salivate recalling the Omelet House’s pumpkin bread, studded with walnut chunks, still warm from the oven. (Its hardly their fault, but Omelet House is where we had our second MAGA encounter: the grizzled patriarch of the family seated in front of us - who looked very "January sixth" - was wearing a t-shirt emblazoned “Ultra MAGA”).
Next: the 4 ½ hour drive through barren lunar desert landscapes to Palm Springs. It’s a fascinating experience: you can drive for miles without spotting any signs of civilization – maybe the occasional abandoned rusted-out car or trailer in a field. At one point Anne Kathrin exclaimed, “What’s that?” It was a coyote standing nonchalantly in the middle of the highway! And it was in no hurry to move. I’d never seen a real coyote “in the flesh” before. He was beautiful, majestic, stared at me with wise unblinking eyes and it felt like he was looking into my soul!
We also investigated the weird, desolate ghost town of Amboy on Route 66. Decades ago, Amboy was a thriving community and then the new highway diverted travelers, and it died. You can still see the diner, post office, gas station and church, and the convenience store is still functions for supplies. (Behind the store the skeleton of a once impressive, abandoned hotel is visible through a chain link fence). We passed through the bohemian desert community of Joshua Tree (which looked enticing). Then back to scrubby desert, you turn a corner and suddenly you see mid-century moderne buildings and you’ve arrived in Palm Springs. We checked in at the Worldmark by Wyndham. (This hotel had its windows blown out and had to close for refurbishment when some incel wackjob bombed the fertility clinic across the street shortly after our stay. Miraculously no one was injured). After our epic car journey, Anne Kathrin and I soaked in the hot tub staring up at the palm trees. Sublime!
/ The sights of Amboy! /
Tuesday 29 April:
While Knut and Anne Kathrin were still sleeping, I sloped off for a solo breakfast of Mexican-style scrambled eggs at Billy Reed’s.
Then we all headed to Trixie Motel (only two blocks away from where we were staying). This is of course the hotel owned by fiercely entrepreneurial drag queen and Drag Race mega-star Trixie Mattel. The place is a shimmering ultra-kitsch pink-and-white vision that would make Jayne Mansfield herself coo with delight. I was in a privileged position as Trixie Motel’s General Manager Angel is an old friend. Suave host-with-the-most Angel gave us a tour that normally only paying guests get to see. Then we drove around admiring old movie star houses (the Sinatra family compound, the Elvis and Priscilla honeymoon pad, Liberace's place) and the exquisite mid-century moderne architecture.
Later: when Angel finished his shift at the motel, he joined us for cocktails at Bootleger Tiki. As their website summarizes: “Located in the same space as the original Don the Beachcomber restaurant that opened in 1953, we are fortunate to inherit an incredible piece of Palm Springs history and want to uphold the tiki traditions that were originally built here - craft cocktails, good friends and a couple of giant tiki torches thrown in for good measure.” Highly recommended!
/ Angel and I at Bootlegger Tiki /
Angel then took us to a dark and moody speakeasy-style bar called The Evening Citizen for further drinking. (The foxy bartender looked like François Sagat!). The Evening Citizen is in Palm Spring’s thriving gay district – this was the sole time I ventured there, sadly. I had a cold the whole time and just didn’t have the energy (I know – a drag, huh?).
Wednesday 30 April:
We explored downtown Palm Springs. Stopped for the inevitable selfie with the controversial Marilyn Monroe statue. (Looking at this shot, I can tell by my t-shirt this is from the day before. Look, my brain is scrambled! I've lost track of time!). We stopped by the Tonga Hut (yet another great Tiki bar!) for their special offer of a Mai Tai and three seafood tacos (insanely good; the tacos came with fresh pineapple chunks).
/ Black velvet painting at the Tonga Hut /
Ice cream break: on his YouTube channel,Charles Phoenix had emphasized the “taste of Palm Springs” is a date milkshake and that drinking one is compulsory. So, I had one – the ultra-sweet, frosty-cold date milkshake cured my headache (well, that and the powerful painkiller Anne Kathrin gave me earlier. But still! Phoenix never steers you wrong).
Thursday 1 May 2025:
We checked out of the hotel and split for Los Angeles, where Anne Kathrin and Knut would stay for a few days and I would catch my flight that night from LAX to Heathrow. I’d never been to LA before and got a quick whistlestop tour: we met Kevin for lunch at a Mexican restaurant, then checked out the Walk of Fame on Hollywood Boulevard (spotted the stars of Jayne Mansfield, Kim Novak and Elizabeth Taylor!) followed by the Hollywood Forever Cemetery (spotted the grave sites of David Lynch, Paul “Pee-wee Herman” Reubens, Maila “Vampira” Nurmi, Jayne Mansfield’s cenotaph. Caught up in the moment, I totally forgot that Ed Wood, Holly Woodlawn and Yma Sumac are also buried there!).
I arrived back in London on 2 May.
