Columnist John Katsilometes: Sparse crowd casts pall over show

Tuesday, Aug. 31, 1999 | 9:50 a.m.

John Katsilometes' column appears Tuesdays and Sundays. Reach him at 259-2327 or kats@vegas.com.

It's a side of the Entertainment Capital of the World not featured in any tourism pamphlet.

It's a Friday night, 10 o'clock, in the Gold Coast hotel-casino. Barrie Cunningham is soon to step on stage for his weekly tribute to Jimmy Buffett. The room should be teeming with juiced-up Parrot Heads slugging margaritas and dancing out of rhythm in impromptu conga lines.

Or so you'd think.

We arrive at the door and the person tearing tickets, seeming somewhat bored and glad to welcome any warm body to the 300-person capacity room, says, "Help yourself to some Corona souvenirs over there."

He motions to his left, toward an unattended bar. Laid across the countertop are dozens of keychains and cheap cardboard sunglasses. They're arranged neatly in long rows, undisturbed.

"Take what you like," he says. Counting the coupon on the back of the $12.95 ticket, redeemable for a free drink after the show, a free drawing in the middle of the set and the free margaritas also given away during Cunningham's performance, quite a bit of free stuff is being bestowed upon ticket holders.

We take the florescent yellow Corona sunglasses -- succumbing to the eyewear's pure goofiness -- and look around the room.

There doesn't appear to be anyone in here.

"This is the place, right?" I'm asked.

"No question about it," I answer. "They're giving away Corona stuff. This is the place."

We walk closer to the stage, past a couple of surfboards bearing the ever-present Corona logo, and down a few steps into the showroom's burgundy-shrouded seating area. Now we see a few fellow humans, a handful of Parrot Heads dressed in multicolored Hawaiian shirts and khaki shorts (Parrot Heads look a bit silly when not traveling together in huge clusters; It's the same weird feeling you get when encountering Dead Heads at the grocery store.)

A quick count -- there can be no other type -- of the crowd reveals the entire audience on a hoppin' Friday night numbers 27.

Gulp.

This is when you feel for musicians, especially Cunningham. His is no tucked-in-the-corner saloon act. Cunningham is an accomplished and experienced singer, guitar player and performer. He and his band also pull off the Neil Diamond tribute at the Gold Coast and, as he has noted, if you hate Neil Diamond, you'll hate his act.

Same with Buffett. It's pretty close to the real deal.

For the Buffett tribute, Cunningham's band is called the Lost Shaker Band. It plays an instrumental number as part of Cunningham's lengthy introduction, and I become a bit anxious as the singer's arrival approaches. I'm sure he was hoping for a large and rowdy Friday night audience.

He's introduced, walks on stage and glances around the largely vacant room, a smile fastened to his face. He then takes a gulp of beer (Corona, naturally), slips on his acoustic guitar and starts into his set, a greatest-hits collection certain to satisfy any Buffett fan.

But in this tiny audience, not everyone is a Parrot Head. A group of about a half-dozen revelers (probably on the second leg of a bachelor's party) near the back of the room chide Cunningham, shouting, "Play Freebird!"

Cunningham brushes off the first few "Freebird" requests, then his frustration bubbles over and he threatens the band of buffoons with security. They soon leave and the show grinds to a conclusion. There was no life on this night, no conga line, and no joy from Cunningham afterward as he greets a few fans as they leave the showroom.

Cunningham notes the small audience and mentions something about the casino pulling his magazine ads, costing him valuable publicity (but there is an ad trumpeting karaoke night). He also asks about the obnoxious group of guys in the back.

"What happened to those guys?"

I had no idea. They probably jetted off to Glitter Gulch.

After taking in both of Cunningham's tribute shows over the past month it's clear he would be better off somewhere else -- a fun spot like the Beach, where the crowd is a bit younger and more likely to get loose. He and his band should seek a more compatible venue, where the music can be appreciated, and where the boys craving "Freebird" would be happily drowned out.