What’s worse than going to the most romantic place in the world? Going without your girlfriend. That is the exact sensation the Hollywood Bowl gave me not more than 2 hours ago. Think of it; outdoors, beautiful music, the night sky framed by the mountain tree line… your boss and some drunk girl. Horrible.
The evening wasn’t designed to be horrible, and outside of my pathetic “where’s my girlfriend” mentality, the night was a complete success. My freelance boss/friend supplied me with a birthday-ticket to the evening’s performance drawing my attention with the prospect of the incredibly talented Andrew Bird. Only later did the pre-drunk girl inform me The Decemberists were headlining with the LA Philharmonic.
This information (to anyone familiar with the concept of ‘good music’) should be enough to make anyone happy, and in all honesty, the performances were wonderful. Certainly the opening act Band of Horses should change their name to Band of Boring, but Andrew Bird marveled audiences, yet again, with his interesting mix of folk rock and electrico-esque samplings. The Decemberists too, were all I’d hoped them to be blending their 19th century story telling sound with the grace only the LA Phil can bring, but all of these wonderful things added up to be sitting there without anyone to really share it with.
I suppose I am just being pathetic. Yeah, I would have liked to shimmy through the crowds finger locked with a girl like the droves that moved all about me, and yes I would have enjoyed sharing a drink under the stars with a special lady, but hey, my ticket was free. I got to see Andrew Bird, The Decemberists, and some drunk bird we brought almost fell down a concrete hill. I might not have gotten a kiss tonight, but I did almost get to see a wasted girl ‘kiss it.’ Life has a way of always evening out.
