Garage, tribute bands rock the Las Vegas marathon

When people around here refer to the Rock 'n' Roll Las Vegas Marathon, they usually just drop the Rock 'n' Roll Las Vegas part.

It's simply The Marathon. Or, if you have to deal cards or wait tables on the swing shift, it's The Blankety-Blank Marathon, because when they put up those roadblocks and close down the Strip, it makes it difficult for those who work on or near it to punch the time clock.

But most who live here have come to embrace the marathon since it acquired its rock 'n' roll prefix, or at least to tolerate it, because the marathon attracts around 40,000 runners who spend money on hotel rooms.

They also spend money in our restaurants, but only a little, because most marathon runners have a body-fat percentage of 6 and don't eat much. They also don't spend money on taxi fare from McCarran International Airport. They just run to the hotel. And they don't ride the monorail, either, because nobody rides the monorail.

In terms of prestige, it may not be Boston or New York or Chicago or London or Berlin — these are the world-class marathons. Ours is only a Rock 'n' Roll Marathon. But we like it, like it, yes we do.

The best Kenyans don't run here. But average Kenyans, and tens of thousands of half-marathoners wearing tutus and Elvis costumes and fluorescent yellow-green clothing, are expected to pump around $165 million into the local economy.

Not all come from Boulder, Colo. Most have blisters on their feet.

Before rock 'n' roll was added to the marathon's official title in 2009, the footrace that has been here since 1967 attracted many more full-distance runners.

And rarely broke even.

Last year, only 3,208 out of 38,000-plus completed the official marathon distance of 26.2 miles. Most ran only half the distance and flashed rock 'n' roll signs to 20 garage and tribute bands trying to find the sound.

That was a lyric in "Beth," a monster hit by the arena rock band Kiss, and late Sunday afternoon I discovered a Kiss tribute band on the course. They were trying to find the sound on the southeast corner of Las Vegas Boulevard and Sands Avenue, at Lagasse's Stadium at Palazzo.

They were set up on a stage about four miles from the start, or a few hundred yards from the finish, depending on which side of the Strip you were running. It was a small stage, remindful of Spinal Tap's last tour, but at least it was a stage. The first musical diversion on the course was called N1NJED1, whose location was listed as "a gravel turnaround on Las Vegas Boulevard."

(I have read that U2 was discovered while performing at the Presbyterian Church Hall in an Irish village called Howth on the outskirts of Dublin. Had the church hall been on a gravel turnaround, I think it might have greatly reduced U2's chances of being discovered.)

About an hour before the start — when it still was partly sunny and partly warm — a big guy wearing a black bowling-style shirt was setting up guitars and adjusting amplifiers to volume "11" on the small stage in front of Lagasse's Stadium. Matt Rice plays lead guitar for a band out of San Diego called Groove Kitty.

Groove Kitty plays Bon Jovi and Joan Jett covers, and opened for the aforementioned Kiss tribute band. Tribute bands are like tutus and Elvis costumes and fluorescent yellow-green clothing on half-marathon runners. They are all the rage.

Matt Rice said his real job is designing software, and that last year he made $270,000. So it probably doesn't matter to him if he ever finds the sound. He compared the marathon gig to other people his age hosting dinner parties, if 40,000 people ran through the dining room wearing tutus and Elvis costumes and fluorescent yellow-green clothing.

Groove Kitty and Kissed Alive! are sort of travel partners, like UNLV and San Diego State in basketball. I asked Rice if his band will put out fliers that said it had played the Las Vegas Strip in front of an audience of 40,000. He said no, but that wasn't such a bad idea.

When Kissed Alive! began its set, dozens of runners trotted over to the side of Las Vegas Boulevard to have their pictures taken in front of the impersonators who were planning to rock 'n' roll all night, or at least until the course closed at 10 p.m.

Then the temperature plummeted. The wind started to blow. And it began to rain, during "Calling Dr. Love."

The crowd in front of the stage sought shelter when it appeared a hard rain was gonna fall, just as a Bob Dylan impersonator might have predicted.

The runners no longer were stopping to have their pictures taken in front of the Kiss tribute band. Their lips were turning blue, or at least a whiter shade of pale, and there still were 22 miles to go.

— Las Vegas Review-Journal sports columnist Ron Kantowski can be reached at rkantowski@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0352. Follow him on Twitter: @ronkantowski.