When the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino floated the prospect of as many as three resident headliners at its new The Joint, speculation centered on locally based names that were either predictable (The Killers) or uninspiring (Vince Neil). Instead, the HRH took pretty much everyone by surprise, landing an artist who's both a classic and a legend in his own time -- Carlos Santana.

He'll only be playing the equivalent of five weeks a year but the HRH will be Santana Central in the western U.S. until Jan. 1, 2011, so it's quite a coup. Richard Abowitz rehearses some of the pros and cons of the Santana-to-LV announcement. Additional headliners are expected to be signed but, for the nonce, Santana has given them a hard act to follow.

Santana HQ.

It couldn't be more of contrast to the "lively new [sic] entertainment" arriving sometime this month at the Tropicana Las Vegas. What have the forward-looking execs at Tropicana Entertainment conjured up? Two acts that have been bouncing up and down the Vegas food chain for years. Neither is a replacement for Folies Bergere. Instead, they'll do, er, share time in a refurbished venue inauspiciously known as "The Cellar," next door to the woebegone Player's Deli.

The early show, The Soprano's Last Supper, has been cooling its heels over at the Greek Isles, having decamped from the increasingly forlorn Riviera. Its late-night co-tenant, Hypnosis Unleashed, has been among the revolving door of shows spinning through the Harmon Theater. A previous incarnation, Dirty Hypnosis, played the House of Blues at Mandalay Bay. The $55 ticket price for Last Supper is a tiny increase on its Greek Isles tab, whereas $40 for Hypnosis Unleashed knocks 40% off its top price at the Harmon.

Obligated to put the best face on this roster of retreads, Trop President Ron Thacker said, "I believe we have created a star-studded entertainment line-up that will offer something enjoyable for everyone." And no, it wasn't an April Fool's joke ... we think.

What the Deuce! Word through the grapevine (I accidentally typed "gravevine" -- Freudian slip!) is that the sudden demise of Ivan Kane's Forty Deuce wasn't for lack of business -- quite the contrary. It's hinted that M'Bay is going in a more family friendly direction with the space, to coincide with the opening of The Lion King.

Economic recovery is just around the corner ... provided that you define "the corner" as three years from now.

Mr. Unwatchable. You'd think a documentary about a Harlem drug dealer who operated in brazen defiance of the law during period of 1976-86 would be inherently fascinating. The music! The (eyeball-searing) fashions! The bloodshed!

You'd think wrong. Former CineVegas entrant Mr. Untouchable is a snoozer, plodding along in the worst talking-head tradition. It will make you long for the breakneck pace and flashy style of, oh, Ken Burns. The Significant Other and I withstood a half-hour of Mr. Untouchable last night before bagging it. If this jive-less turkey is in your Netflix queue, expunge it forthwith!