I don’t go to the Hollywood Casino much. I fully admit I’m one of those former West Siders who thought it would be great to put the Columbus casino on the West Side rather than downtown, who thought that it would revitalize the entire West Side and be really great for my former neighbors. Of course, that’s not the way it turned out. The casino ABSOLUTELY should have been downtown, where it might have actually attracted clientele from the Convention Center, Huntington Park, etc., and been better positioned for people from all over the city to converge at one CENTRAL LOCATION to gamble their hard-earned money, as opposed to the West Side senior citizens pissing away their Social Security checks at the penny slots, the way I see it now.

But I digress………

The British Invasion is playing the Hollywood Casino this Saturday night, May 7th, 8-11:30 pm in the H Lounge (formerly the O-H lounge) and that’s more than enough to lure me back to my old neighborhood. (I could throw a softball from my first apartment in Lincoln Park West and hit the casino.) The British Invasion is five guys playing all the 1964-1967 British Invasion tunes I cut my musical teeth on, but more importantly, not just the normal mishmash of Beatles ‘n’ Stones tunes bands of this genre normally play: The British Invasion goes Deep Cuts on The Kinks, The Small Faces, The Hollies, The Zombies and The Troggs – among others – and charms the hell out of this West Side rocker's heart. (And, you’ve gotta understand, normally Ricki C. is not gonna venture out on a Saturday night ANYWHERE – let alone the Hollywood Casino – to see a cover/tribute band: has Ricki EVER seen The Menus or The Reaganomics? Not on your sweet, short life.)

My sister’s coming up from Grove City to meet me for the show, too, and that’s cool, because she’s the one who turned me on to The British Invasion to begin with. A coupla years ago they played some downtown street bash in Grove City and all I heard for the next two weeks was Dianne babbling, “You’ve gotta see this band I saw! They’re called The British Invasion and THEY WERE GREAT! We’ve gotta find out where they’re playing next and go see them! You’d love them!”

Now let’s keep in mind, ladies & gentlemen, my sister’s tastes in music run to the likes of The Four Seasons, Lawrence Welk and Wayne Newton. (She once actually called me up in the 1980’s and announced breathlessly, “Ric, Wayne Newton is playing at Beulah Park! We should go!” When I replied, “Dianne, I wouldn’t go out in my backyard to see Wayne Newton,” she was genuinely crestfallen.)

So I didn’t have particularly high hopes for whatever outdoor show Dianne dragged me to that summer to see the band, but damn, if The British Invasion DIDN’T DELIVER BIG TIME! First off, they dress up in matching 60’s outfits (which Di loved) and anybody who knows me well realizes that I’m a TOTAL SUCKER for bands in uniforms, from Paul Revere & the Raiders in 1965 to The White Stripes in this 21st century. (The Strokes also kinda fall in that category, come to think of it.) (So do The League Bowlers, but that's a different blog for another time.)

Secondly – and most importantly – The British Invasion doesn’t just PLAY mid-60’s rock & roll music, they UNDERSTAND mid-60’s rock & roll music. They understand that all the little hooks – guitar arpeggios, backing vocals, little drum-breaks coming out of solos – are all JUST AS IMPORTANT as the words & music of the songs. It’s those little touches in the songs that put these guys heads & shoulders above the middling cover bands I have to think litter The Hollywood Casino stage week in and week out.

Anyway, I’m WAY over my allotted 500 words, so let me just say this: If you like rock & roll that is equal parts MELODY, SMARTS & POWER; if you like rock & roll that is as far from alternative hipster bullshit as you can get; if you like rock & roll that is FUN, come and see the British Invasion at the Hollywood Casino this Saturday night. It don’t cost nothin’ and I GUARANTEE a good time. See ya there. - Ricki C. / May 3rd, 2016

Growing up rock & roll on the West Side of Columbus, Ohio, in the 1960’s & 70’s carries with it certain responsibilities: I have to hate Mumford & Sons, The National and Atoms For Peace because they are pussies, and are therefore NOT rock & roll; I have to keep Q-FM 96 as one of the pre-sets on my car radio – even though I’m utterly appalled by the complete lack of imagination and sheer mindlessness of the stations’ playlist – because they might play “Never Been Any Reason” by Head East; and because I watch NFL football on Sundays I am required to bemoan the fact that Bruno Mars is the halftime entertainment at this season’s Super Bowl because, well, he’s fucking Bruno Mars, for Chrissakes.

But I digress………

Growing up rock & roll on the West Side of Columbus, Ohio, in the 1960’s & 70’s means that I’m not supposed to be smart enough or that I’m supposed to be too drugged-out to remember that The Hollywood Casino is built on the site of the old General Motors plant, once the largest employer of non-college-educated folks on the West Side. The fact that Columbus city leaders have chosen that as the site of the our little gambling palace is genuinely ironic, given that the casino almost certainly sucks a certain percentage of the unemployment compensation and retirement funds of the workers whose jobs were shipped overseas back during the “Republican Revolution” of the Ronald Reagan administration, jobs never to be had again on the West Side of Columbus, Ohio. Talk about adding insult to injury.

But I digress………

My friend Rob and I met up on the North Side for our little Rolling Stones casino jaunt. Rob and I go way back. We met in 1976 when Rob became my boss at the West Side Service Merchandise location where I worked. We bonded over the fact that Rob knew who The MC5 were and liked them. That carried weight on the West Side in 1976. Rob and I saw a lot of great rock & roll together over the years – Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band, Blue Oyster Cult in their heyday, Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band – and also a lot of truly questionable rock shows - Steppenwolf in 1978, at least eight years past their prime and the debacle that was Kiss in 1976. More than that, though, we saw a lot of great local Columbus bands: The Godz, Black Leather Touch, The Muff Brothers (later The Muffs) in the brief period when they were truly great before they became Money, and most of all Romantic Noise, Willie Phoenix’s best band EVER. Rob is one of the few people on the planet to whom I don’t have to explain to how great Willie once was.

But I digress………

Satisfaction – the Stones tribute band in question – I thought was actually pretty good. The lead singer bore more than a passing resemblance to Mick Jagger, was rail-thin, stayed in character the entire time, doing all of the between-song patter in an English accent (that was certainly better than Dick Van Dyke’s in Mary Poppins) and the Keith Richards character didn’t embarrass himself. (He shoulda kept his mirrored shades on the whole show, though, the eyes always give away your age.) I think the bass player was sporting a wig, but pulled off a credible Bill Wyman. (I miss Bill Wyman, there are FIVE Rolling Stones.) The drummer had Charlie Watts’ signature lick of pulling off the high-hat on the fourth beat of every measure down to a science, and the Ron Wood character was serviceable.

Unfortunately, I had just seen The Rolling Stones documentary Gimme Shelter on the big screen the week before at Colin and Brian Phillips’ Reelin’ & Rockin’ Movie series at the Gateway Film Center and the disparities in music and culture between 1969 and 2013 were glaringly, painfully obvious. The audience (“crowd” might be too strong a word for the hundred or so souls gathered at the casino) was really the main problem. The people who were once bright-eyed, stoned-fabulous fans of the Stones were now 60-year olds in embarrassing denim shorts and old, too-small Stones tour t-shirts, sporting either long, stringy grey hair under baseball caps, or no hair at all. And there were definitely more walkers and canes in evidence than there were Harleys.

No naked fat chicks tried to clamber onstage like at Altamont but there was a requisite number of drunken, frowzy, bleached-blonde divorcees dancing down front in front of fake Mick. But I am not making fun of my West Side sistren & brethren here, you must believe me. To paraphrase: “What can a poor Stones fan do / ‘Cept to go to the casino on a Thursday night?” Where else are 50 and 60 year olds supposed to go for a rock & roll good time, a twerking Miley Cyrus show? Please.

So all in all it was a pretty depressing night. Driving home I caught “Cecilia” by Simon & Garfunkel on the Newark oldies station, and was instantly transported back to January 1970, making out with Linda Finneran in her parents’ warm West Side living room, listening to her Bridge Over Troubled Waters album. Growing up in the 1960's & 70's, I don’t want rock & roll to be all about memories, but unfortunately right now it is. – Ricki C. / September 27th, 2013

Ricki C has forgotten more about Rock n Roll than you ever knew. Learn more about him and our other Pencilstorm contributors by clicking here.

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