A+E

Does it mean six more weeks of funk? Ask the lucky Flamingo crowd.

Half a cup of Bugsy, two tablespoons of stand-up comedy and a dash of Phunne. Who could have guessed it would take that unlikely recipe to draw Sly Stone out from seclusion at long last on Saturday night?

For the past 20 years the 1960s funk icon has been musically MIA, appearing only to say a few words at his group's 1993 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction, frighten fans with his golden mohawk during last year's brief Grammys stint and flash peace signs while singing one song at a Family Stone gig this January in Anaheim. So despite last month's announcement that resident Flamingo Hotel comedian George Wallace had secured Stone for a one-off in his showroom, nothing concrete suggested it would actually happen. Even when I caught a glimpse of Sly during Saturday evening's soundcheck, I didn't allow myself to believe he'd still be around later. (Who could blame me, less than two months after Lauryn Hill's disappearing act?)

My worst fears felt justified for much of the night, first as a stalling Wallace stretched his opening routine past the hour mark and then when the curtain dropped and a 10-piece Family Stone began working through some of Sly's best-known hits—"Dance to the Music," "Everyday People," "Hot Fun in the Summertime"—with an unmanned Korg electric piano and microphone front and center.

But just as the sold-out crowd of 600 grew restless, with shouts of "Where's Sly?" and "We want Sly!" threatening to overpower Vet Stone-sung ballad "Somebody's Watching You," Sly Stone stepped forward, finally emerging from his two-decade hibernation. "I want to present to some and reintroduce to others, my brother, Sly Stone," Vet Stone announced, all eyes turning excitedly toward the spindly, sequin-dotted figure approaching tentatively from backstage left.

I wasn't totally sure it was Sly at first, with his face and eyes obfuscated by sunglasses and a stocking cap, and his first few hesitant jabs at the keyboard and mumbles into the mic during a psychedelic intro jam made me even less certain. As he moved into familiar territory, however—"If You Want Me to Stay," "Sing a Simple Song," "Stand!," "Family Affair," "Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)" and "I Want to Take You Higher"—his confidence grew markedly, as did his musical contributions, leaving little doubt as to the identity of the man behind the disguise. Not that Stone's voice has maintained the sweetness of his early days; his range sounds far more limited now, and his words were tough to make out much of the time. But as he launched into "Family Affair"— "One child grows up to be/Somebody that just loves to learn"—his rich baritone boomed loud as ever, surely stirring Summer of Love memories for an audience comprising mostly Boomers.

Strange as it was to see Sly sing, solo on his keyboard, shimmy dance behind his instrument, speak to the crowd ("Is anybody here old as me?") and proudly introduce daughters Phunne and Nobi (one rapped, the other played classical piano), all that was nothing compared to his most unexpected move of the night: a journey along a stage extension running down the center of the floor area. Though visibly affected by neck and back problems limiting his range of movement, the 64-year-old Stone ambled down the gangway, flashed a toothy smile and reached toward the sky as if rising from the dead while poignantly belting out "Thank you, for letting me be myself again."

In the coming months we'll see whether a reported European tour goes off as planned, or if Sly instead returns to self-imposed exile. But for 30 minutes on Saturday night, the man who once turned Woodstock inside-out was back. And strangely, those of us inside the Flamingo Showroom were lucky enough to witness it.

An artist on her work

UNLV student artist Danielle M. Kelly will display her masters thesis exhibit, Master of the Obvious, April 9-13 in UNLV's Donna Beam Fine Arts Gallery (895-3893). We asked her about her image "echolocator":

"Not unlike the sonar used by bats or whales, the drawings in the series echolocation are lost graphic vibrations in search of one another. I love the idea of drawing as an action, and in this series I think of the drawings as retaining some vibration from the act of dragging pencil across paper. As echolocation, they describe their position in direct relation to the space and density that surrounds them, potentially shifting in dimension as a response to surrounding architecture and objects as well as human bodies. In this way, I find them to be interactive and optimistic, with the viewer serving as a reflective sonar device. The echolocation drawings emit vibrations, which then become sonic reverberations that bounce off of the viewer and back to the drawings, aiding the echoes in finding one another."

‘Goodbye' fatigue and the (eh) closing of (shrug) Hilltop House

I'm mourned out. When you grow up here and consistently see things from your childhood imploded or taken down to make room for a Linen 'n' Things, where do you go for the encore? This past week, word spread that the Hilltop House, located off Rancho just north of Cheyenne, was closing after 46 years as a supper club (35 years under the Wojtowicz family). It was reported that its last day would be Sunday, and I stopped by that evening to get some frog legs to go—those famous Hilltop House frog legs. And what do you know? I pulled up at around 5:45 p.m., and there were a bunch of people reading a sign and looking dejected. The place had already closed! The sign was singularly unsentimental—no "Thanks for your business," no "We'll miss you," just a note that they couldn't open that day.

The customers who remained in the dusty parking lot looked perturbed. But I welcomed this brusque stance. Look, I'm all for championing the mom-and-pops of Vegas, but these things happen, and the Hilltop's hard-nosed goodbye just made the whole thing go down easier. If I have to settle for my fond memories of the place anyway, why not start now? The fact the Hilltop closed a day early just saved me a day of moping on their premises. So enjoy your new chapter, Wojtowicz clan—if it's time, it's time.