This city might be in the throes of a cultural revolution, thanks to such avant-garde newcomers as Cirque du Soleil, Blue Man Group and De La Guarda, but, as long as neon is used to light up the Strip, it will be the magicians, musicians, showgirls, comedians and lounge singers who keep the party going into the wee hours of the desert morning.
Night after night, the rank and file of the entertainment industry work the casino stages, making the endless parade of sleep-deprived gamblers, conventioneers and tourists feel welcome at all hours. At the same time, these tireless performers struggle to keep alive the dream of someday seeing their names fill up the giant marquees outside the hotels — just like Frank, Sammy, Dean, Wayne and Elvis before them.
“That’s why impressionists are so big in Las Vegas,” suggests Bill Acosta, who just took over late-night duties in the Flamingo’s main showroom. “People come here to hear the stars again, even if there aren’t any left.”
“The Man of 1,001 Voices,” a longtime fixture of Chicago’s nightclub scene, is one of three accomplished impressionists currently commanding their own rooms on the Strip. He joins Danny Gans and Andre-Philippe Gagnon as resident acts, mimicking the unforgettable voices of the same show-biz legends who made Vegas famous in the first place.
Gans, an ex-baseball player who played on the same college team as Ozzie Smith, may be the most successful entertainer anyone outside of Las Vegas has never heard of. Earlier this year, Steve Wynn lured him away from the Rio, with the promise of an eight-year contract and a new $15-million, 1,260-seat showroom at the Mirage.
Tickets for Gans’ one-man show go for $75 and $100, and, unless reservations are made at least a week or two in advance, they’re almost impossible to find.
The hyper-kinetic Gagnon, who toured with fellow French Canadian Celine Dion before finding a home at the Venetian, is even less well known in this country than Gans. Still, with tickets going in the same price range as Gans, he’s building a loyal following with a mix of sung voices, from Frank Sinatra and Louis Armstrong, to Axel Rose and Dire Straits.
Acosta, a fine singer-comedian whose audience skews a bit older than the competition, left Chicago two years ago for a 16-week gig at the Luxor. He won an 18-month extension for his fast-paced “Lasting Impressions” production, and this fall was awarded an opportunity to move a bit north, to a larger room in the Flamingo.
“We use the term `Lasting Impressions’ for people who really were stars, real stars, not just guys who had recording contracts,” said Acosta, taking a break from a recent rehearsal session. “Sinatra entertained 60 years . . . Dean Martin, Sammy Davis, Andy Williams, Ray Charles, almost that long. People don’t realize that these guys covered a lot of generations.
“They were real, real stars.”
This might explain the recent, almost inexplicable proliferation of impressionists and a dozen other “tribute” shows on and off the Strip. Like magicians, ventriloquists and hip hypnotists, copycat entertainers are an elemental part of the only-in-Vegas allure on which the entertainment economy thrives.
Long before Gans was given his own showroom, first at the Stratosphere and then at the Rio, impressionists were a staple of the scene. Rich Little, Frank Gorshin, John Byner, George Kirby, Charlie Callas, Fred Travalena, Marilyn Michaels, David Frye, Joe Piscopo would roll in and out of town with regularity, but none had a permanent home.
Acosta moved to Chicago from New Orleans in 1979 to work the Playboy Club circuit as a singer who occasionally did impressions. Besides playing local jazz and supper clubs, he happily took corporate gigs and jobs on cruise ships — Have tuxedo, will travel — the two venues chiefly responsible for keeping most niche acts alive these days.
Gans does all the voices one naturally would expect from an impressionist whose audience demographic is all-inclusive. He also offers dead-on studies of John Travolta, Joe Cocker, Kermit the Frog, Prince, Neil Diamond, Billie Holiday and Nat and Natalie Cole.
One of the reasons “The Man of Many Voices” isn’t as widely known as he might be, Lightman explains, is because he doesn’t really need the publicity, and, thus, shies away from doing guest-spots on talk shows. This hasn’t stopped him from trying to develop a sitcom of his own, but he clearly enjoys being marketed as another unique Vegas attraction.
Gagnon wouldn’t mind a bit more exposure, but absent a latter-day Ed Sullivan, his handlers are biding their time until Jay Leno or David Letterman come calling.
All the impressionists share certain benchmark voices — the Rat Pack, a Willie Nelson/Julio Iglesias duet — and it isn’t uncommon to hear dueling versions of “The 12 Days of Christmas” and “On Golden Pond.”
Gagnon differentiates himself by sticking to musical impressions and tackling such unexpected acts as R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe, the Beatles, David Bowie and Mick Jagger, Bob Dylan (doing “Feelings”), Otis Redding, Sting, James Brown and Alice Cooper. He stretches out on a Temptations routine, and performs a video duet with Celine Dion.
“I started doing impressions, in English, when I was 5,” he says, following a concert in the cavernous C2K showroom, which is managed as a separate business within the Venetian. “My first one was Tweety Bird. I would do a lot of French singers . . . the English songs, I learned phonetically.
“To me, as a kid, it was a matter of respect. If I was going to sing a Beatles song, I wanted to sound like Paul McCartney or John Lennon.”
His first big break came in 1985, when he appeared on “The Tonight Show,” which, at the time, was a haven for comedians and other niche performers. When Johnny Carson retired, it left an immeasurably large hole in the variety marketplace . . . one that no one seems eager to fill.
“I used to do a lot of traveling . . . France, Switzerland, Belgium, then, two days later, I’d have to fly to San Diego, then back to Canada,” Gagnon says, a Quebecois accent still heavy in his voice. “Now, the audience is on tour . . . the tourists are discovering who I am. I try to give them something different.
“I don’t want to be an imitation of Danny Gans or Bill Acosta.”
Like Acosta, Gagnon offers a theory on the enduring popularity of impressionists.
“Our memory of music is very strong,” he says. “If you remember hearing Lou Rawls sing a particular song back in the ’60s or ’70s, to hear it again will bring memories flooding in. We try to re-create the ambience, for 30 seconds or a minute, then skip to something else.”
Looking back to his time in Chicago, Acosta gets a bit wistful and nostalgic for a golden era.
“It’s very tough being in this business nowadays, because there are fewer rooms, and the ones you get, you have to fill, or you’re out of there,” says Acosta, who made his singing debut at 15 in Pete Fountain’s club, and only began concentrating on impressions around 1988. “Look at Rush Street . . . we used to bounce from club to club to club, and not have a drink in the same place. You could hear all these great jazz players and singers — once in a while, comedians — but, no more.
“I remember when Chicago was the best . . . the best. Nothing against Vegas, but we didn’t need it.”
Fortunately, for Acosta, Gans, Gagnon and other practitioners of slightly out-of-fashion arts, Las Vegas audiences have long memories and are always happy to welcome back an old friend . . . whether it’s Wayne Newton or someone who sounds exactly like him.
