Upon hearing the words "Las Vegas Philharmonic" for the first time, a man laughed and told founder and name inventor Hal Weller that it sounded like an "oxymoron." Not that this man was against the idea at all. It's just that if you tap any noun that implies cultural, artistic or historical endeavor to succeed the words "Las Vegas," well, what knee wouldn't jerk? Suffice to say, our hyperactive den of inequity is a pretty tough act to follow.
This was about six years ago, when the Philharmonic's name itself was the only thing to be heard. With five full seasons under his cummerbund, now it's Weller who's getting the last word, having grown his subscribers by 20 percent each year and reducing our city's oxymoronic potential immeasurably through outreach programs, quality performances and even taking his Vegas show on the road.
And what word does he choose to describe his classical movement in Sin City?
Counterculture.
As used in this re-creation of an actual lunchtime dialogue:
Writer: "So, what are you guys doing these days to keep up with Vegas?"
Weller: "Actually, we're not. I love to think of us as the counterculture here."
Writer: [Blinks. Chews. Blinks again.]
The Las Vegas Philharmonic's music director does have a point: Most anything with emotional substance or historical value doesn't fit the culture here. For an example, look no farther than the Philharmonic's new headquarters on South Highland: It's a hop from the Spearmint Rhino, a skip from an erotic steam-bath parlor and a short jump from the Las Vegas Strip. One of those entities ain't like the other. In this kind of a marketplace—setting aside all things steamy for now—how can a little community arts org fight the Elton Johns for your money and attention on a Saturday night in Vegas?
It doesn't. But you still would understand if Weller were tempted to implement the When In Rome Strategy considering that a) the city's last orchestra bled to death, b) we're not exactly known for our cultural connectedness and c) he's no regular stuffed-shirt symphony conductor (at the Phil's debut performance, a Fourth of July concert, the crowd was given paper bags to pop during "Stars and Stripes Forever"). However, he's clung to one resolution in trying to kick-start some serious musical culture in a place where fake Elvis sideburns are part of the norm:
"We will never play down to an audience," he says. "But we will play to an audience."
Weller knows the value of mixing hummable Tchaikovsky with some, well, less-hummable Kabalevsky (as is the case with the Phil's May 8 concert, its season closer). But he doesn't go so far as to stack the deck with concerts full of show tunes and "1812 Overtures," or join the trend to "sex up for the mainstream," which is how CBS Sunday Morning recently defined the "classical crossover" craze. The report, called "Changing Their Tune," told how this reserved and proud music tradition is being seduced by such acts as the String Quartet Bond (aka the "Classical Spice Girls") and Vanessa Mae (the genre's "Madonna").
Naturally, there is a tizzy over this flirtation: Is this in the best interest of the music? Of its listeners? What listeners? That leads to the root problem: In a hypercompetitive and ever-changing industry, classical music CD sales (4 percent of the total) and its radio audiences (mainly over 50) are static, CBS reported. And that leads back to America's answer for everything: Sex it up!
But applying that theorem in Vegas would be like trying to blend in with the crowd. So the Philharmonic uses reverse reverse pyschology: Be traditional and stay dressed in this town and you'll stand out.
Seems to be working: There are plenty of butts in the Ham Hall seats (most concerts are to a full house), the organization runs in the black, and a youth movement is under way (the Phil plays for 13,000 fourth- and fifth-graders each year, resulting in a noticeable upswing in instrument playing in public schools).
All stats and perceptions aside, though, what really drives the Phil down the conservative path is a belief in the music itself. "We have a responsibility to music that has substance," Weller says. "Some of these are the great masterpieces of Western culture."
With all due respect to Eminem, of course.
These tunes are not still around merely because philharmonic orchestras need something to play (in fact, there is a lot of contemporary "classical" composing going on), but because these songs are still relevant, they still connect with the human nervous system, they still have the ability "rattle our cages," as Las Vegas Philharmonic Executive Director Philip Koslow puts it. "I don't think I've ever left a concert and not felt changed in some way."
Back East years ago, Weller witnessed common, blue-collar folks who had never been to a concert moved to tears by Beethoven's Symphony No. 3. "It proved to me," he recalls, "that you don't have to be educated to get it."
Yet it's more involved than a Glenn Lerner commercial. Going to a symphony concert is not a passive act. You have to engage the music, join the experience, feel the vibes—not sit back and wait for it to hit you like a royal flush. And if your mind is set for a little more cage-rattling, you might forgo the shirt that bares your midriff, maybe even dress up a bit, and socialize with other dressed-up people during the intermission.
It may not be Haight-Asbury in the late '60s, but, hey man, a revolution is a revolution. And in Vegas, that may be as simple as having made something happen here that we're glad to have stay here.