Columnist John Katsilometes: Beatles fans still bonding

Monday, Oct. 16, 2000 | 10:44 a.m.

John Katsilometes is the Sun features editor. His column appears Mondays. Reach him at 259-2327 or kats@lasvegassun.com.

When I first met Dennis Mitchell he was about to leave KKLZ 96.3-FM, where his signature show was the Sunday morning program "Breakfast With the Beatles." Being a Beatlemaniac myself, I'd always wanted to meet Dennis, and when I did I made a highly provocative comment:

"I'm a big Beatles fan."

Mitchell peered over his horn-rimmed, Lennon-esque glasses and asked "How big?"

Tricky question. Do I go full-bore with this and admit that, at age 14, I actually wrecked a belt-drive turntable in an attempt to find the backward messages in "Revolution No. 9"? At what depth of fandom (some might call it illness) do I admit?

Finally I said, "Huge."

Mitchell (who has returned, with his 9 a.m. Sunday show, to KKLZ) just nodded and grinned. I sensed his curiosity, because there are casual Beatles fans who might give the volume knob a slight boost upon hearing "Come Together," and there are the maniacs who have purchased "Revolver" on four different occasions -- twice on vinyl, once on cassette, and again on CD.

I'm in the latter class, but wasn't too comfortable divulging as much to someone I'd just met. Don't want to come off like a Trekkie, you know.

But Mitchell had a simple question to gauge my Beatle meter. "What was your first Beatles album?"

"Rock 'N' Roll Music," I said with a laugh. Then together we said, with palpable glee, "The thumbs!"

It was a genuine moment only true Beatle devotees could appreciate. "Rock 'N' Roll Music" is an obscure compilation album put out by Capitol in the mid-'70s. I forget the year (OK, 1976). The album was memorable mostly for its ridiculously conceived cover -- an artist's rendition reminiscent of a '50s-style malt shop, with the band posed behind a gaudy neon sign.

Completing the picture were raised thumbs on both sides of the cover, making it seem as if someone were gripping the album. I told Mitchell about how as a kid I wore down the thumbs, because each time I picked up the record I'd dutifully press my thumbs against the covers.

"Oh yeah," Mitchell said. "You're a fan."

There are quite a few of us, all different ages with widely diverse jobs and backgrounds, inhabiting Las Vegas. I know this because we convene, without a wisp of notification or organization, every so often to watch and listen to the Fab. A favourite (that's how Beatles fans spell that word) of Mitchell, the band has been kicking around for five years or so. I first took note of them at Palace Station. A friend had wandered by the old lounge (which has since become Trax), heard the band and excitedly informed me, "These guys sound exactly like the Beatles. But they look nothing like the Beatles."

No, they look like the Eagles. No matter.

When I first saw the Fab they were playing "Free as a Bird," off the "Anthology" set. The song, stitched together by new music from the surviving members and an old demo tape by Lennon, couldn't have been out for more than two weeks. I also took note of the crowd -- a happy collection of young people, old people, a refreshing blend of colors.

Since then I've come to know many in the merry troupe. One blond woman always sits up front -- no matter if the group is playing at the Sunset Station Brewery, Club Madrid or Mad Dogs and Englishmen. The Significant Others of band members usually hang back, and you can catch the heartfelt glances from the stage when the band plays a particularly meaningful song. Many fans wear traditional tie-dye or shirts emblazoned with famous Beatle album covers.

There's my buddy Michelle Tell, a publicist in town whose very name is a nod to the famous Beatles song. Her dog is named Martha, for the song on the White Album. Occasionally I'll work with her (Michelle, not the dog) and we'll inevitably find ourselves discussing the next Fab show or some other Beatle-related topic. The last time it happened was at the Venetian, when I was about to interview one of the human statues at the Grand Canal Shoppes.

Trust me, nothing gets the attention of a group of publicists and a man making a living as a human statue like the phrase, "When are we going to do the Fab again?"

We all convened again Friday, for glad times at the Club Madrid. There was plenty of discussion of the new book "The Beatles Anthology," a $60, 367-page coffee table book that's as heavy as an actual coffee table. Written in the band's own words, the book is the latest "must" for Beatlemaniacs of the 21st century, sure to be dissected ad infinitum at Fab shows for the next several months.

I'm looking forward to our next Fab confab, Oct. 27 at 7 p.m. at Club Madrid (now there's a plug for ya). I'm hoping to see Dennis, Michelle and the rest of the motley crew. After all these years it's still difficult to describe the allure of the Beatles' music and story, and such offshoots as the Fab. But I believe it's what they call a "vibe," and one that we happily share.