Esteban shows sincerity, flair for dramatic in LVH show

One thing about that Esteban, he sells it.

Of course he does. Har har. Esteban is no mere flamenco guitarist, but the king of TV home-shopping flamenco guitarists.

But now he's playing at least two nights a week in the Las Vegas Hotel's Shimmer Cabaret. The former Las Vegas Hilton is one more thing Esteban has in common with another classical musician who crossed over with just a single name: Liberace.

In this domain it's not about concert hall dexterity, though Esteban certainly seems to keep in practice. What matters here is showmanship.

Therein lies the genius of how a hotel lobby bar guitarist named Stephen Paul became Esteban, topping his black shades with a Zorro-like bolero hat to sell millions of CDs on cable shopping channels in the early 2000s.

If Esteban was going to do a solo acoustic show, just sitting on a stool and playing guitar, the cozy Shimmer Cabaret would be a fine place to do it. The crowd is close and the sound is sterling.

But if you really think he would do that, go back to your Paco de Lucia recordings.

He does start off with the minimalist vibe, plucking around the melody of "Eleanor Rigby," head down with the Zorro brim obscuring his face, the sturdy antique guitar resting on the leg that's elevated on a box in front of him.

But soon he is joined by violinist daughter Teresa Joy, in the first of several outfits she will wear to vary the visual appeal. A few bars later, two more musicians kick in: Raul Yanez on keyboards and Joe Morris, who takes a drum solo even before the end of the first song.

Showmanship indeed. Along with a flair for the dramatic, telling the crowd we are about to embark on "a global musical journey," with tunes "from 4000 B.C. to the present day."

And a good feel for a set list. Esteban balances florid workouts on sentimental melodies ("When You Wish Upon a Star") with cinematic, new-agey instrumentals ("Mediterana" catches a Led Zeppelin "Kashmir" vibe) and a well-timed breather that relaxes the rigorous musicianship in the name of fun (Del Shannon's "Runaway").

And don't forget belly-dancing. Violinist Joy is a multitasker.

Unlike Charo - who surprises audiences with her flamenco guitar skills, but dulls the impact with recorded backing tracks - these four play as a unit responsive to one another. At least the first part of a tune will stick to subtle keyboard washes and percussive fills, before it "goes big" for the finish.

But what Esteban really sells is the sincerity thing. The show is called "Music from the Heart," and you could play the "Bob" drinking game with how many times he says "heart."

Whether a song is "about pure love," or "comes from a deep place," it's always "from our hearts." Resistance is futile once he takes a step back and marvels, "This is pure music. ... We're playing wooden instruments with strings on them."

Before a medley of "Love Me Tender" and "Can't Help Falling in Love," Esteban asserts that the soul of Elvis is "as alive as ours is," and he beckons the ghost of Elvis to join him: "When I ask him, he comes."

Elvis may not have left the building, but it's Liberace who is jealous.

Contact reporter Mike Weatherford at mweatherford@
reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0288.