Last week, I went to Las Vegas for the opening date of the reunion tour of Blink-182 (a band I’ve written four articles on previously, including this 1999 feature, this 2000 cover story, and this 2003 account of playing for troops in the Middle East). If you’re curious about whether the boys had matured during their time apart (spoiler warning: no), you can read my dispatch for the Rolling Stone website here.

I was in Vegas for 24 hours, and I spent 23 of them at the Hard Rock Casino. Being there was surreal, and not just because I had a choice between spending my money at Nobu or the in-house tattoo parlor. The hotel walls are covered with photographs of people I’ve interviewed, and even some replicas of cover stories I’ve written. I know rock music is already a commodity, but it normally doesn’t feel as thoroughly commodified as it is at the Hard Rock. Never in my life have I felt so much like a cog in the rock-industrial complex.

posted 29 July 2009 in Outside and tagged Blink-182, Hard Rock, Las Vegas, rock-industrial complex. no comments yet