Rock N Java: 'I never expected that they would close'
"I like the vibes, good energy," says Logan Williams into his microphone to the crowd. Williams, 17 and his band, The Atrocity Complex, are performing at what will be one of the last shows at the Rock N Java café, which will be closed by the time you read this.
The café-turned-all-ages-music-venue at 8876 S. Eastern shut its doors Sunday after increasing expenses took too much of a toll on the owners.
"Our rent just got too high," says John Steffy, who with his wife owned the coffeehouse. "The other expenses alone were piling up. We paid $8,000 in base rent alone."
According to Steffy, the 4,000-square-foot café costs around $15,000 a month to operate. "We love dealing with kids, but the problem is sometimes they just like to hang out," Steffy says. "Sometimes they just don't spend any money."
For Steffy and his wife, though, Rock N Java wasn't really about the money. It had become a sort of home away from home for teenagers living on the southeast side. "This place was always about the kids," Debbie Steffy says. "It's important for kids to have a place to be safe, to be around friends and not be exposed to drugs and alcohol on the streets."
Bringing in national indie acts like the Epoxies, hard-core acts like Blood Has Been Shed, and catering to the local music scene, the venue seemed to succeed where other all-ages joints had failed, building a loyal residential crowd who came every weekend to enjoy shows and hang out.
"Unfortunately you can't make it on shows alone," concedes Patrick Trout, promoter and former talent buyer for the Rock N Java. "It was always packed on weekends but every other night was a [challenge] to fill the place."
Trout says it will be harder to book shows like the ones that Rock N Java took a chance on. "Hard-core shows are harder to place, but the Rock N Java was willing to book them," Trout says.
He adds that he's moved some shows to Leathernecks, a local Marine watering hole off of Spring Mountain Road. Others will take place at the newly opened Mojo Bean (see below).
"This place is like home to me," says Ann Collins, a 14-year-old Green Valley High student who frequented the cafe. "It's friendly here. Everyone here is like family."
"It sucks. [The Rock N Java] had all the best all-ages shows," Annie Kim, 17, says. "They always seemed to do so well. I never expected that they would close."
Trout and the Steffys plan to host a final "going away" show for Rock N Java on July 10 at the café, featuring local acts that have played the café numerous times in the last two years.
"Venues come and go, and it sucks," Trout says. "But, really, it's the kids who are losing out."
Good Mojo
Just as one of Southern Nevada's few all-ages music venues shuts its doors, another has stepped into the void, albeit on the opposite side of town.
A large wooden stage outfitted with an 18-inch drum riser and flanked by tall, vertical speakers announces the arrival of Mojo Bean—formerly Christian coffeehouse Holy Grounds (622 N. Rainbow Blvd.)—which officially begins its new, secular life as a coffee shop/rock hall/teen hangout tonight with a grand-opening show featuring Hung By Halos, So They Say, Race the Sun, Maricopa and Black Market.
Promoters Marc Sterling and Dana Thorsness and local band Fletch (guitarist Ryan Brasher is the couple's son)—who ran all-ages hotspot the Alley before it closed in February—are rapidly packing the remaining summer calendar at Mojo Bean, which is open 24 hours, seven days a week.
"Sundays are movie nights, Monday will be audition night, Tuesday open mic, Wednesday acoustic, Thursday dance and Friday and Saturday concert nights," Thorsness rattles off. "We had three months of advanced booking when the Alley closed, and we'll have that much here soon, too, especially with Rock N Java closing."
Angela Parzanese, who owns Mojo Bean along with two business partners, opened the space with an extensive coffee background, having run six such locations in Washington before moving to Las Vegas two years ago. She says she didn't hesitate to add the live music element, once she was approached by Sterling and Thorsness.
"If we don't find things for teenagers to do, they'll be out on the streets getting involved with vandalism, drugs, alcohol," says Parzanese, a mother of two teenagers herself. "A kid made a comment on MySpace: 'If you build it, we will come,' and that's what we've done. Whatever the kids want, that's what we'll do. How often can teenagers tell a business what they want and have it done?"
Recent warm-up gigs have drawn near-capacity crowds of around 250, with a portion of the adjacent parking lot fenced-in on show nights to facilitate a strict no re-entry policy.
"Vegas is famous for getting venues shut down," Brasher, 17, says. "We want to make sure that doesn't happen to us."
Sterling and Thorsness are also looking to open a 1,000- to 1,500-capacity concert hall soon, featuring as many as three indoor stages. "There's a lot of great bands and a lot of great kids that go to shows in this town," Sterling says. "We just need more venues for them."
Upping the Voltage
Local musical heroes 12 Volt Sex re-emerged on the Las Vegas Strip Friday night, rocking the Empire Ballroom to celebrate the release of a new album, the self-produced 12-song effort Fix.
Playing to an audience of 300-400 people—including Killers drummer Ronnie Vannucci—12 Volt Sex performed songs from the new CD, as well as old favorites from its early days as Vegas' greatest musical hope. The enthusiastic crowd got an extra treat on fan favorite "Over Divine" when Third Eye Blind's Tony Fredianelli joined the group on stage to play lead guitar.
"A lot of people came out of the woodwork that we haven't seen in years," says guitarist Michael Stratton.
"It's like a telepathy in essence," adds lead singer Matthew Gucu. "These are people that would not normally hang out together. But music can bring like-minded people together."
12 Volt Sex has come a long way since it appeared on the Vegas music scene 10 years ago. The power-pop quartet (now quintet) rose out of a quiet, disorganized music scene with a professional, polished approach to performing, songwriting and, most importantly, marketing. That earned the band a doomed contract with RCA Records.
Since then, 12 Volt Sex has remained under the radar, occasionally doing one-off shows, such as the Extreme Thing in 2004 (where the band performed as Stereo Quatro). Bassist Jason Coleman moved to Portland a few years ago, which Gucu concedes was a "major catalyst" for the band's inactivity.
Since 2004, however, founders Gucu and Stratton have been writing new material, recording it whenever all the members have been in Vegas (keyboardist Tobias Ashmore also lives in Portland). The result is the melodic mélange of Fix.
The maturation of the band is evident from the first track of the new album. "Goodbye" is a tender, melancholy song accented by delicate piano and sweeping synths. Gone is Gucu's sneering, aggressive voice. Gone are the buzzing guitars and punk-influenced rhythms. According to the band, this change didn't happen recently.
"The time period we were recording for RCA, we were going through changes," Stratton says. "Half was the sugary pop stuff, but the other half was more like the new songs."
Gucu concurs: "We had a major identity crisis and that was part of the problem RCA had marketing us."
The rest of the album weaves through layers of distortion, shimmering keyboards and a richer, more varied vocal approach, both in content and context. The songs are serious and reflective at times, a giant leap from the light and fun tracks on 12 Volt Sex's first album, Pop Formula.
"The difference between being 33 and 23 is we don't have that agenda," Gucu says. "We aren't trying to be rock stars. Our personal journey is reflected in our music."