John Kaye profile, Las Vegas Sun

John Kaye: Filthy fame and fortune Lisa Sciortino Monday, Aug. 5, 1996 | 11:59 a.m. If he could, John Kaye would tell you more about the people he's met, the music he's played and how rock 'n' roll stardom seemingly slipped through his guitar strings. But he can't. Remember, that is. They're little more than blurred psychedelic snapshots in the 43-year-old former hippie's mind. Drugs will do that. During the '60s and '70s, Kaye, a Las Vegas native and budding young rock star, experimented with his fair share of them. Lost memories or not, the busy real estate broker and home builder doesn't regret having turned on, tuned in and rocked out. "I had to go through that to find what it was really all about," he says, nursing a root beer between business appointments at the Pac Out Drive Inn in Henderson. "It" was life, and until then partying was all Kaye had ever known, thanks to his "eclectic upbringing." He is the son of Norman Kaye, one-third of the Mary Kaye Trio, the group often credited with initiating the Las Vegas lounge era in the late '40s. Between the trio's performances around town and the star-studded pool parties his family hosted -- guests included Johnny Mathis, Joey Bishop, Elvis -- it's not surprising Kaye was bitten by the show-business bug early on. "I didn't know who they were, but we had great times, good parties. That's what my perception of it was as a kid," he says. By the mid-'60s, at age 13, he was attending military school in California and playing bass in the band J.K. & Co., founded by his equally young cousin. They signed a recording contract with White Whale Records (the label's hot commodity at the time was the Turtles) and cut an album that was distributed on the East Coast. Kaye says "Suddenly One Summer" was "very successful," selling 125,000 copies. But "I can't even remember any of the (song) titles," he admits. When the record company later went belly-up, so did the band. No sweat off Kaye's back, though. By the time high school rolled around, his wheels were already turning on another project: the Rock 'n' Roll Society. He founded the group in Los Angeles in '69. Don't be fooled by the stately name. "It was a reason to party," Kaye says. "It had a good ring to it, and I wanted to party." And that he did, along with its 50,000-plus hippie members. They'd gather by the hundreds at sprawling ranch homes nestled in the hills around LA for monthly "Full Moon Parties." "Sometimes we didn't even need a full moon to have one," Kaye admits. "If somebody thought they saw a full moon, we'd have a party." Yet his memories of the three- and four-day orgies are vague. There was plenty of music, provided by up-and-coming bands such as Loggins and Messina, Eric Burton and the Animals, and Kaye's own groups (the names of which he doesn't recall). "There'd be like 15, 20 bands, a lot of them jamming for three days in all different areas of the ranch and the house. Our parties got pretty big and pretty out of hand. We did a lot of drugs." LSD guru Timothy Leary and artist Andy Warhol were known to stop by, though Kaye doesn't remember much about them. "They were just people passing through the crowd." Same with the "nondescript women that were we making time with. It was kind of sleazy. It was rock 'n' roll. "It was a wonderful time. I wouldn't trade it for anything." Not even for clearer memories? "There really wasn't anything there to remember anyway, because everybody was pretty much out of it," he says. "It was very cool back in those days because everybody was getting high." But the high wears off, as it eventually did with Kaye. He went clean about 12 years ago, "When I realized I could get a lot more done without it." The turning point may have come several years before that, in the late '70s, when the band he fronted, Crossfire, lost an opening gig for Heart, as well as a half-million dollar recording and movie contract. "Drugs and alcohol ruined it all," he concedes. But one lesson Kaye learned from his wild-child days is etched in his mind. "Those experiences made me not want to experience it now because I've already been there and done that," he says. "Let me put it to you this way: I think drugs have their place. I'm not one to condemn or condone it because I think you as a person have to experience your life the way you feel it should be experienced." Still, "I don't need it in my life and I don't need it in my surroundings because I need to accomplish things now that I didn't accomplish when I was younger." He's a new person now, juggling the roles of businessman, husband, father and former halfhearted political candidate. But old habits die hard. "I tend to want to do music more than anything." That's why he's back in the saddle with a new band, the Overlords. So far, Kaye and his three band mates have played their "no brainer" brand of rock at several Las Vegas clubs and fund-raisers. He's quick to compare the Overlords' sound to that of Top 40 bands Hootie and the Blowfish, the Goo Goo Dolls and Oasis. "I think we'll do real well once we get out," he says. Plans are to eventually release an album and possibly embark on a tour. Kaye has spoken with local record producer/engineer and friend Allan "Blaze" Blazek about lending his expertise to the project. Blazek, whose credits include albums for guitar great Joe Walsh, Dan Fogelberg and the J. Geils Band, calls Kaye "one of the most hard-working and really conscientious" musicians he's met. Maybe that's because Kaye's musical focus isn't just on fun anymore. "I just want to be filthy rich and famous, plain and simple. That's what it's all about this time," Kaye says. "It's not about just doing it for fun, because I'm real intent about what I want out of this band. I know precisely what I want to do. I know precisely how to go about about doing it and how to get going." Credit Kaye's knowledge of the music industry to personal experience. "I grew up with a sense of awareness on the business end of things because what I thought was going to be a constant party ended up not being that way," he says. "There was a lot of that I didn't see being taken care of by other people." Now he wants to put his know-how to good use via a revamped Rock 'n' Roll Society. Long gone are the days of sex and drugs. Of course, rock 'n' roll is still key with Kaye and the 15 dues-paying members he's recruited to help fulfill the society's mission: raising funds to help fledgling local bands secure performance venues. "With the society's help," he says "we can afford to spend the money to (rent) nice venues, to afford merchandise ... to generate the money to be able to go back out and do it again." Kaye is also searching out a corporate sponsor to fund a half-million dollar rock 'n' roll road show. They'd tour the country, featuring the best local bands from each city they visit on the bill. It's Lollapalooza minus the commercialism, he says. "We're talking 18-wheelers with stages, light shows, the whole crew." The society also hopes to tackle some of the legal issues musicians face. For instance, one hurdle young Las Vegas musicians face is their age. Local bar, club and casino owners are slowly becoming aware of Nevada's revised statutes permitting minors to perform in such establishments. But Kaye has researched the laws and says they have been in place for some time. "They've been having young kids play in the hotels from way back," he says. "Wayne Newton used to perform in the lounges as a teenager. They can't hang, they can't drink, they can't gamble, but to do their job and go is perfectly fine." Kaye had his own brush with local bureaucracy last year, when he campaigned for a seat on the Henderson City Council. His platform: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Kaye lives in Henderson, where his company, Creative American Builders, constructs oversized custom homes. Needless to say, he's battled red tape in the city planner's office before. He figured the best way to get his civic gripes heard at weekly city council meetings was to become "a thorn in their side." So he paid the $25 candidate fee and jumped into the race. Government waste is his pet peeve. "Take a look at Henderson," he says, looking out the Pac Out's window at Water Street's palm-lined median, an example of the city's beautification efforts. "Here we've got this bump in the middle of the road with plants all over it wasting money." If that's not enough, "They're taking these statues of people and moving them all around town," he says, referring to the 13 lifelike bronze statues by J. Seward Johnson that are on rotating exhibit in Green Valley. "They're ... finding a home for them and we've got homeless standing on the corners with signs. What's the deal?" (Actually the statues are funded by American Nevada Corp.) Kaye's campaign, however, was less than aggressive and lacked publicity. Still, Kaye managed to garner about 800 votes before throwing his support to Amanda Cyphers, who won. "She's very cool. She's very on top of it and I think she'll do great work," he says. Cyphers says she understood Kaye's "heartfelt and honest" reasons for running. "He wasn't doing it for any political snuff or what not. Here was a candidate who was running for the same reasons I was. We knew as a team that we just wanted to get a good person for the job." Don't count on Kaye to toss his hat into the ring again. "Are you kidding? It wasn't interesting in the least." Nor could it ever compare to the rush he gets by strapping on his guitar and heading onstage. "It makes you feel alive," he says. "It's putting 100 percent of everything that you are into it, and the ecstasy of being drained from it. It's a pretty good high without having to do drugs."