This article was the worst thing to happen to planet earth since the plague. I think I threw up in my mouth a little bit.
By Ray Stern
By Ray Stern
By New Times
By Amy Silverman
By Stephen Lemons
By Stephen Lemons
By Monica Alonzo
By Chris Parker
"Kreme, we've gotta check out Axis/Radius this Thursday," the Jettster insists as I'm finishing off a plate of chocolate-chip brownies in my office. "DJ AM's gonna be there and he's like the hottest DJ on the planet right now."
"Yeah, he's a big name," I reply, brownie crumbs spilling. "But since when are you an aficionado of the wheels of steel? The only thing you usually care about is getting me to pick up the bar tab."
"Don't you know? DJ AM is Nicole Richie's fiancé, and she's so fine I'd drink her bathwater," relates Jett, all gooey-eyed. "She's bound to be there. Come to think of it, DJ AM's pretty cute too."
7340 E. Indian Plaza
Scottsdale, AZ 85251
Category: Bars and Clubs
Region: Central Scottsdale
"Look, we're not going to Axis/Radius just so you can hit on DJ AM and Nicole Richie," I frown. "On the other hand, it does sound like a good event for us to cover. Okay, we'll go. But you have to promise not to molest the celebrities."
"Only if they want to be molested," she replies, grinning.
As most everyone knows, Axis/Radius is this big behemoth of a club, actually two clubs in one, which sits on East Indian Plaza in Scottsdale, across the street from Suede, and around the corner from Myst. Les and Diane Corieri are the Emperor and Empress of this nightlife empire, and powerhouse AZ marketing/promotions company CEG (Creative Entertainment Group) is responsible for many of the events that go down at Axis/Radius and Myst. Why am I telling you all this? Because DJ AM was flying in from L.A. on the 6th to play CEG's five-year anniversary party at Axis/Radius. And that put the night on our radar screen.
We arrive between 10:30 and 11 p.m., and of course, the spot's thicker than a swimming pool of Skippy, with tons of fly folk ready to party to the sounds of Adam Michael Goldstein (Philly-bred DJ AM's birth name). Outside we run into Aaron Seaford, half of the CEG team -- the other half being his biz partner Steve LeVine.
"We just had a very successful event last night with Tommy Lee and DJ Aero at Myst," Seaford relates. "Actually, Tommy's still around. I think he's across the street at Suede right now."
"What are we waitin' for?" asks the J-unit. "This is my chance to see if reality matches what I saw on that video he did with Pam!"
Before I know it, Jett's scootin' across the road like a woman on a mission, and I'm right behind her. The scene at Suede is kinda lame. Tommy Lee's on Suede's patio, and they've got a velvet rope encircling him, his huge, bald bodyguard, and a couple of others. On the other side of the rope are a gaggle of peroxide pussycats, trying to rub up on Lee. Feeding time at the zoo, right? Personally, I wasn't feelin' the Crüe back when they were popular, much less now. But I have to admit, the TV show Tommy Lee Goes to College is effin' funny. Sort of like watching a reality-series version of that flick Old School.
Anyway, as soon as we're near the geezer rocker, Jett reaches for his hand between a gap in the wenches, but TL's musclebound babysitter -- who reminds me of Ving Rhames in Pulp Fiction -- pulls her wrist aside.
"No grabbing," he tells the Jettster.
"Maybe if you get a boob job and dye your hair," I whisper in Jett's ear. "Then you might have a chance. He's known for liking a certain type."
"He smiled at me," the J-girl mumbles, disappointed. "I'm sure he'd like to party with me if it wasn't for that big dumb bodyguard."
"Maybe there are some other stars you can get with at Axis/Radius," I state, as we blow off Tommy Boy and head back to A/R. "I hear they've got Uncle Fester from The Addams Familyin there. He's about Tommy's age."
"Very funny, Kreme -- not!" she snaps.
DJ AM is already tearing up the decks on the Radius side of the club, but we need a drink, and the bars there look three or four deep. So we perambulate to the Axis side and head upstairs. At the bar, we score some vodka-cranberries and strike up a confab with this studly cat Justin, who hails from Sydney, Australia. Seems he's an exchange student at San Francisco State, and came down to Scottsdale for a visit to hook up with a pal of his, who happens to be an Axis/Radius bartender.
"How does Scottsdale compare to Sydney, mate?" I inquire, doing my best Steve Irwin impersonation.
"It compares very well," he smiles. "It's a real party town. I've been here a week, and I love it."
"So tell me, do the chicks dig the accent?" I inquire.
"They really do," Justin answers. "It's like you get 10 bonus points just for being Australian."
"Wow, you have washboard abs," the Jettster coos. "Can we see?"
Justin obliges us by pulling up his shirt to reveal a perfectly toned belly and a brand new piercing, which he just got this a.m. after a night of boozy revelry.