Hall & Oates & Riverside

Mergotti and I went to the Hall & Oates concert at the casino in Riverside last night. And, yes, it was cheesy as hell.

I don’t know about Mervgotti, but the ‘80s Cheese Factor was about 90 percent why I went. When the hell else would I get to see the most successful, and well-coiffed, duo in pop music history so close to home? Probably never — or at least until they book Riverside again. Because that’s apparently what Hall & Oates do now: journey across the country with a made-for-VH1 tour name (this summer is the “Do What You Want, Be What You Are Tour 2010”) and play for mostly over-the-hill crowds at small-time resorts and casinos (except in Arizona; they are boycotting the Copper State, and I can’t blame them), where the regional corporate class tries to emulate Vegas high-life. It is understandable. Although both Hall and Oates still have a lot of talent, the music industry moved on and the glory days of topping the Top 40 are behind them (or so I think). But they are certainly not has-beens. They do what they can to continue doing what they love. Yes, I think I can go for that.

Plus, Mervgotti and I share a deep appreciation for Hall & Oates music videos. Anyone for a little shoulder dipping and finger snapping?

ANYWAY. In preparation for the outdoor concert, we drove down around 4 with two lawn chairs in the back of my car. Mervgotti had never been to the casino (“I’m afraid if I go down once I’ll keep going down”) so I showed him around. Much like Riverside itself, the casino isn’t much. The gambling area circles a central bar topped with a fountain, and there is a stage and second bar on the northeast side. Slot machines ring the outside edge and the tables create an inner circle. Outside the gambling area are a few high-end shops and restaurants. To that extent it is much like a Vegas casino or Waikiki resort, but on a much smaller scale.

The plan was to gamble a little, eat at the buffet (which, I was certain, would offer the best vegetarian options, though not by design), and get a seat at the concert. I blew $20 at the slots within five minutes. I will never play those fucking machines again. You have virtually no shot at winning, though some miraculously do. The thing to do is play the tables, which Mervgotti started doing after blowing $10 of his own on slots. By chance we met his old man, Pappa Merv, and a few of his friends at the center bar while we walked around. They were all down for the show and Pappa Merv bought us PBRs.

Mervgotti and Pappa Merv played Blackjack at the same table. I kept out of the game not only because I was pissed at burning away $20, but because the cards were dealt so quickly. Though we played it all the time in high school, I have not played Blackjack in years and my basic addition skills couldn’t keep pace with the dealer’s quick hands. I caught on after being reminded of the face card values, but it was still too quick. The dealer was hitting 20 and 21 too often for me to dismiss it as chance, and everybody at the table lost money. Mervgotti evened-up and cashed out his chips for dinner. By that time I had had three PBRs on an empty stomach and needed to eat something.

After filling up on the gross buffet food (a note to vegetarians: I think the shell pasta salad has tuna in it), we got the lawn chairs and claimed a spot toward the back of the casino’s side parking lot where the stage was set up.

Hall & Oates walked out at 8 and started the show with, I think, “Maneater.” Everyone stood for the first few numbers, and I was more interested in the audience than the main attraction. The crowd was mostly older, pushing or past 40. Many seemed to be office slaves enjoying their weekend. There were a lot of nasty women. At one point I said to Mervgotti, “I don’t think I’ve seen five good looking chicks tonight.” A few yards away was P. Diddy, my former boss at the school district. He sat with his daughters and wife, who didn’t look half as nasty as she did in the pictures on his desk. Though tempted, I didn’t say hi.

After playing a few classic numbers, Hall & Oates sang a few songs from each other’s solo work as the sun set. The sky was clear to the west, but over the casino was a thin and rippled cloud layer, which caught and amplified the pinks, oranges, and purples. Once again, I was more interested in the sunset than the show.

Frankly, there really wasn’t much to watch on stage. Music is obviously an auditory enjoyment, and I sat back in my lawn chair, enjoyed the music, and kept an eye out for the kind of cute, quasi-hipster chicks I always see downtown. But, as I mentioned, there were mostly country bumpkins flashing their Marlboro smiles between sips of Busch Light.

At 9, after a seriously long rendition of “I Can’t Go For That (No Can Do),” Hall thanked the crowd and everyone walked off the stage. That was it? One hour? Say it isn’t so (it isn’t so-ou-oh)! Everyone in the audience was cheering, and P. Diddy’s crew waved lighters. After a minute, Hall & Oates reemerged to play a few more songs. Then they walked off again. The crowd cheer and screamed, but P. Diddy’s crew kept their lighters pocketed. I kept thinking, “They need to play ‘Private Eyes.’ I didn’t come here for them not to play that song.” “Private Eyes” was the first Hall & Oates song I remember hearing, so wanted to hear it live. After another minute of suspense, in which a lot of people packed up their chairs and headed toward the exit, Hall & Oates reemerged (again) and played the final two songs of the set: “Kiss On My List” and “Private Eyes.”

So that was that. Hall & Oates in all their former glory. The ‘80s Cheese had covered the neighboring countryside. Overall, they put on a good show. I have to give mad props to the saxophonist. He had long sax solos in most of the songs, and really showed his talent in the jazzed up and extended “I Can’t Go For That.” Oates’ hair performed well, too.