Out-of-towners who presume that Las Vegas' culture amounts to a slot machine and a bucket of quarters could have added ammunition to their argument Saturday night at UNLV's Artemus Ham Hall. If they'd only bothered to show up. With one of New York City's most respected jazz bands—Lincoln Center's Afro-Latin Jazz Orchestra (ALJO)—in town for a rare Southern Nevada performance, only a few hundred locals found their way to the 1,800-capacity venue. That left huge, unused blocks of the arts theater's burgundy-colored seats empty and unused while the 18-member ensemble worked through its two-hour program.
The instrumentalists surely took note of their sparse surroundings, but it didn't reflect in their music. Five saxophonists, four trumpeters, four trombonists, two percussionists, one drummer, one bassist and pianist/conductor Arturo O'Farrill cooked through a varied slate of compositions, some self-penned, others by such Latin jazz luminaries as Tito Puente. The group fought off a few technical problems, as the bass level wreaked havoc with in-ear monitors, but never appeared anything less than enthusiastic about playing to the small audience. The dedicated souls who did turn out clearly appreciated the effort, rising for standing ovations both before and after an encore number. Still, you couldn't help wondering if the proceedings could have been even hotter had the room been packed and rowdy, with more folks following the whooping-and-whistling lead of one brave individual seated front and center, who vociferously acknowledged particularly spirited passages every chance he got.
Prior to showtime, the lobby looked as if it could have been plucked from Manhattan's theater scene, and not just because the evening's headliner hailed from the Big Apple. Chalk it up to unseasonably cold weather if you'd like, but it's a good bet all those black-leather jackets and fur coats would have made their appearances regardless of the temperature.
"Such nice people," one Ham Hall usher said softly to another, as the bar's alcoholic offerings went—in most atypical Vegas fashion—largely unordered. A PBS support booth in one corner of the foyer attracted more attention. Though a group of children, likely on a school-sponsored field trip, showed up just before 8 p.m., most attendees were middle-aged or older, and many appeared to know one another, judging from the warm hellos and heartfelt hugs exchanged near the glass entry doors. Folks either found their seats quickly and began poring over the informational program or milled around out front, some discussing the Dennis Millard paintings that adorn Ham Hall's lobby. Once the concert began, it didn't take long for several musicians to distinguish themselves from the horde assembled onstage. Veteran alto man Bobby Porcelli, whose résumé includes stints with Puente, Machito and Tito Rodriguez, won over the crowd instantly with his heavenly tone. Tenor player Mario Rivera earned the night's loudest cheers after dancing his way through a dizzying flute solo. Trombonists Reynaldo Jorge and Gary Valente traded licks, then dueted for a stretch, during an emotive ballad. And percussionists Jimmy Delgado (timbales) and Tony Rosa (congas) stood front and center throughout, spicing up the Afro-Latin arrangements with their agile hands.
Even so, a 15-minute intermission saw the audience shrink further, with yet more seats open when the lights dimmed again. Perhaps the deserters had their eyes on the clock, with a 10 p.m. bedtime looming. Or just maybe, Las Vegas' cultural naysayers are right after all, and they were all headed off to cash in Friday night's paycheck and wage war with those infamous one-armed bandits.