The Philadelphia Orchestra has a new animateur. From that you might imagine someone standing next to the conductor scribbling big line drawings on poster board as the music unfolds, illustrating themes. No, that's not it. In France, the term is applied to political activists who use street theater to get their messages out. That's not quite it, either. In Germany, an animateur is the equivalent of a Borscht Belt tummler, the Yiddish term for the person responsible for making sure everyone is having a good time. Now we're getting close.

For Cabaniss, who performed the same function in past seasons at the New York Philharmonic, the role also means being a diplomat. In the best of all possible worlds, great musicians play great music, and an appreciative audience comes to hear them. In reality, the situation is skewed by contemporary cultural dissonance. "People coming to the orchestra for the first time can be very intimidated. They may be culturally informed, but still get the sense that everyone else in the audience knows what's going on except them. They feel they should be interested, but when they are there, in the concert hall, it feels cold."

On the other end, there are the musicians, always eager to communicate, but often impatient with touchy-feely outreach. This is the "shut up and play the music" crowd. Cabaniss has not been empowered to force every last curmudgeon to meet and greet, and so just playing the music remains an option. For the majority of players, though, there is a hunger for better connection to the audience. Cabaniss encourages this with such simple gestures as having players stand up before the music begins and say hello to the audience. Or, he may have players stay after the concert and chat. "At a recent concert, the cello section went to hang out in the lobby, and 400 people stayed."

Cabaniss has a terrific ally in music director Cristoph Eschenbach, who, in an earlier interview in these pages, expressed his desire "to take the audience into the land of curiosity." The maestro has been instrumental in launching the new Access Series of concerts, all with Cabaniss on the stage as jovial ringmaster. These two will launch the four-concert series with a program that centers on a single work, the Symphony No. 2 of Beethoven. On the face of it, it seems curious to choose the least-performed Beethoven symphony, but as Cabaniss and Eschenbach see it, it is an ideal work for their concept.

"Cristoph wanted it. He feels the No. 2 is underrated," says Cabaniss. "It is a place where you see the mind of Beethoven at work as he sows the seeds of radical change." This model of artistic innovation in an historical context describes the general shape of these Access concerts, which might also include slide shows and lectures. Cabaniss would like to keep things somewhat loose. "Each night will have something different. Some moments cannot be planned."

Subsequent Access endeavors will similarly avoid the stereotypical Music Appreciation 101 sort of programming. The January program will center on the last symphony of Dmitri Shostakovich, a quirky, superficially lighthearted conclusion to the weightiest and most iconic orchestral output of the 20th century. Conductor Rossen Milanov, himself a product of the Soviet-era musical machine that had Shostakovich at the soul of its artistic ethos, will explore the "Dmitri Code," engaging the composer's extramusical influences. Is the quote from the Lone Ranger theme (Rossini) an allusion to political freedom? What is the significance of the first movement, which sounds like "a very screwed-up toy store," in the words of Cabaniss. Shostakovich himself offered no clues outside of the score, and so Cabaniss will engage both the musicians and audience in a pointed discussion but, he says, "We're not going to try to answer the questions."

The series concludes in May with music of Rachmaninoff and Weber that shows off the orchestra's famous solo instrumentalists. The February Access concert would seem to be the most amenable to the animateur treatment, since it is the only one that features a new piece, a yet-to-be-titled work written on commission by Bright Sheng. For this event, Cabaniss would like to have a panel, but not in the traditional sense; it will be comprised of audience members, who will be encouraged to analyze the music for the composer, and tell him what they thought worked in the music, and what didn't. It is a daring concept, and hopefully emblematic of a new approach to interacting with symphonic music. Or, as Cabaniss puts it, "We will have the chance to experiment." In a notoriously stuffy world, this could be just the breath of fresh air that is needed.

Beethoven the Revolutionary Access Concert, Thu., Nov. 17, 7 p.m., $12-$32, Kimmel Center, 300 S. Broad St., 215-893-1999, www.philorch.org.