Father John Misty At The Hollywood Bowl - Spellbound

There was another enchanting evening at The Hollywood Bowl on Sunday night, when Big Thief, Gillian Welch, and Father John Misty took over the venerable Los Angeles landmark to weave musical spells under the moon and stars. To say it was utterly gorgeous in every way would still be an understatement of this sublime gift of a night.

I'm sorry to say we missed Big Thief due to the always congested journey to the Bowl - and that I was told they only played three songs in their set. Our box neighbors described the band as "Like a female Father John Misty." I could get into that. Will definitely check out, and apologize for missing their Bowl debut.

Gillian Welch is an Americana treasure, and she and her musical partner, David Rawlings, wove their tunes together in such a natural groove that you could close your eyes and imagine yourself on a porch swing in the country somewhere, just listening and loving as the stars came out and completed the perfection of their set.

We wondered why the crowd was so sparse in the picnic areas when we arrived, and it was because nearly everyone was already seated and raptly taking it all in. This is rare at the Bowl when it's still light out, and once seated, we understood why. I'd never seen Welch (looking rather like Joni Mitchell) and Rawlings (looking rather like Dwight Yoakum) live before, and it really is something. The duo perfectly compliment one another, and with highlights like "Look At Miss Ohio", "Hard Times", and "Revelator" featuring such deep musical prowess you really were left with mouths agape and minds pretty much blown. Welch's playing of banjo - and even knee-slapping - are just as great as her lush harmonies, and Rawlings guitar picking is the glue that holds it beautifully together. Their final song was a cover of Alfred E. Brumley's classic, "I'll Fly Away", and the sky was such an unnamed, perfect dusk color at that moment that one really did want to fly away right into it. I'm now an even bigger fan of these ultra-talented songsters who perfectly bridge the past to the present, bringing us all together. Wow.

That wonderful performance led into an intermission of picnic and wine enjoyment as acid-trippy music played over the p.a. and swirled everyone into a mellow groove. I'd read recently that Father John Misty likes to micro-dose on acid these days, and this music then made sense as the prelude to his Hollywood Bowl debut.

Touring in support of his recent album, God's Recent Customer, FJM (as I affectionately referred to him throughout the evening), seems to have blossomed from a kind of sarcastic social commentator to deeply reflective pop poet. My usual photographer (and brother), Paul, skipped this show, and texted me "Father John MEHsty", to which I took umbrage. But I also got it. Misty (aka Josh Tillman) has come off as extra-pretentious to some in past interviews and performances, but I've always just found him funny. And awesome.

Which he fully was on this night at the Bowl, playing his expertly crafted numbers so fantastically that my notes are rife with words like "Gorgeous!" "Epic", "Smart!" "Awesome lyrics!" (for all of these: "Funtimes In Babylon" - "Nancy From Now On" - "Chateau Lobby #4 (In C For Two Virgins)" - "Strange Encounter" - "Disappointing Diamonds Are The Rarest Of Them All" - "Only Son Of The Ladiesman" - "Total Entertainment Forever"), and Misty more than proved that he was ready for this majestic stage.

Old Hollywood footage was screened behind the band, and Hollywood references are abundant in FJM's lyrics, so it almost felt like a hometown show, though he's really a dude from Maryland. "Look out, Hollywood, here I come!" was more than a lyric ... it was a statement of arrival for real. I love this guy - and wrote that several times in my notes too. You could just read his lyrics and be mesmerized, but that they're accompanied by such excellent harmonies - and even elevated with strings and horns on several tracks - makes it all simply entrancing. Yeah, I'm a fan. A gushy one.

My companion for the evening was not, however, leading into this show. Another Meh-sty type of guy (maybe it's a guy thing?), unknown to me when the invitation was extended. By the time Misty got to "Ballad Of A Dying Man" though, I got the raised eyebrows/frown face of "Impressed" and a slightly begrudged "Good one" from him. "Mr. Tillman" was more Hollywood cleverness, and then the laser-lit extravaganza "Bored In The U.S.A." was the one that really turned my friend into a real fan. His grin was ear to ear, and held the glow of the newly converted. Bless you, Father.

"Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings" kept us in Hollywood, and every song just kept getting better, until the lights and lasers and sheer mastery of showmanship crescendoed with "Pure Comedy" and the last pre-encore number, "I Love You, Honeybear" - which I still can't get out of my head. FJM said (and he rarely addressed the crowd, letting his wisdom come through lyrically), "It's been a hell of a night!" so truthfully, and again, understated. My friend just said, "Thank you, CJ", only all thanks should have gone to Father John Misty and his band. Hell of a night.

But it wasn't yet done ... the encore was even better, with FJM returning in his white-suited glory to thunderous applause and whistles (us) to give us "Date Night", "Real Love Baby" (which I was fully feeling), and the finalé of "Holy Shit" - which is exactly what I wrote in my now barely legible notes. Holy shit was exactly right. FJM finally left the stage, having given his absolute all, by saying, "Quite a night, y'all! Thank you very much!" No, Mr. Misty (now I want some Dairy Queen). Thank YOU.

It seemed as if no one wanted the spell to be broken, as folks finished up their wine and sat there in our afterglow until ushers came to kick us out. Humming and whistling together, the droves made their way back out into the Hollywood night, having experienced one of my truly favorite experiences ever at The Bowl. And that's saying a lot. I even got to see someone be freshly converted to the gospel of Father John Misty. And it was very good (Genesis 1:31).

*Press photos courtesy The Holllywood Bowl. Performance photos courtesy Iphone (sorry).

Prince Rogers Nelson 1958 - 2016

Prince is gone. I just can't believe it. My phone started going off this morning, and I kept ignoring it, trying for a couple more winks after a restless night's sleep. When I looked at all my texts, one after the other read, "Not Prince!" "RIP Prince!" "Thinking of you, so sad about Prince". NO!!!! 

I immediately burst into tears. It hit me hard, like a toddler cries. I didn't think about it, it just erupted out of me. Not Prince! If you know me at all, you know this awful news is truly devastating to me. Prince is my all time favorite. In fact, Prince probably helped some to make me who I am.

You see, growing up in Minneapolis, Prince was IT. Prince was THE coolest. Prince was also kind of forbidden. Because Prince was "Dirty". Prince was shocking. Prince pushed every envelope. I was in junior high, and we would listen to Prince and be both thrilled and scandalized at the same time - in a good way. Singing out loud with my cassette Walkman, not realizing that Mom could hear the words I was belting out. This was not music my Mom wanted me to be listening too, and I loved it all the more for it, as all good rebel kids do. Every good D.J. knows that Prince will get everyone on the dance floor, and keep them there. His music is timeless.

The music. There is no one better. Prince could play everything, expertly. We would just watch him in awe, and in Minneapolis, we got to watch him a lot. My little friends and I snuck in when they were filming Purple Rain at First Avenue, 'cause we were not about to miss out on that! Life changing. I had a friend in junior high named Molly Larson, only Molly called herself "Princess" - with a star to dot the i. Molly had a tough life and Prince was about the only thing that made her happy. She would doodle his name all over her notebooks, and we would break down the songs' lyrics, right down to the moans. Molly really believed that Prince was going to be her Prince Charming, and swoop in and take her away on his awesome purple motorcycle with the glyph symbol on it. But that never happened. Molly dropped out of school, and I didn't know what happened to her until there was an article in the paper about Molly becoming a teenage prostitute, and being beaten to death on the side of a road. I was so sad for her, and remember being so sad that she never met Prince. His presence was felt even larger. (Prince and I never personally met, but I'll live on a look he once gave me until the day I die.)

I saw so many Prince shows over the years, one better than the next. When I went to college at Augsburg, it was the best because our campus was right in the city, and Prince was everywhere. Prince's drummer at the time, Michael Bland, also went to Augsburg, and would walk around in his big robes and Pope style hats, and we'd feel somehow closer to the Man. We'd have Prince sightings on his motorcycle blazing through Seven Corners, and it was magic. Prince would announce an arena show the day of, saying just show up with a can of food for entrance, and there would be a sold out show and the city's food shelves re-stocked that same night. When I was at Augsburg, there was no film major yet, so I asked if I could do my Senior Project as an Independent Study, and make a documentary on Paisley Park. The studio's manager at the time, Red White, gave me full access, letting me tour and film all over the studios in Chanhassen. Prince wasn't there that I saw that day, but the magic was felt everywhere. I have no idea where the old VHS tape of that film is, but I gotta find it.

I remember sitting on my friend's deck at her house across the lake from Prince's house late one night, when we heard the most astonishingly gorgeous electric guitar solo carry out across the water. Prince, jamming with the windows open in the Summertime ... I'll never forget it.

We saw Prince in the rain out here in L.A. at the Hollywood Bowl, one of the best shows I've ever seen in all my days. I saw him at Staples for the Musicology tour, when he gave that cd out with every concert ticket sale. That counted as record sales too, because Prince was also a business genius (we all remember The Artist Formerly Known As Prince. Smart.) 21 Forum Shows! Dance offs at Glam Slam! All those late night sessions at Paisley Park when Prince would jam with visiting artists, and you would just have your mind blown. And nothing will ever beat that Superbowl Halftime show. Nothing.

Prince gave us SO much wonderful music, so much artistry, so much to think about. He did whatever he wanted artistically, he dressed however he wanted, but he also gave more than anyone even knows, because he never bragged about it. He's probably responsible for setting me on the path to having a major thing for multi-talented, multi-cultural, multi-instrumentalist, multi-genre men ... for better or for worse. I remember hearing about Prince showing up at someone's door to talk about Jehovah's Witness stuff. Can you imagine?! That is the one time I'd let them in and listen. Or would have. NO! NOT PRINCE!!!

Last Summer, I was home visiting, and heard Prince was having a party at Paisley Park for the National Association of Black Journalists, of which I am not one. But I am determined. I was GOING. My brother and I took off to Chanhassen, where I proceeded to talk my way in, and single-handedly integrate this event with my brother. Prince didn't play, but when he took the stage right in front of me to speak, I can't explain the feeling that came over me. It was actual electricity, like a charge ran through me as I looked at him in his golden lounging pajamas, talking all smooth. The smoothest. The most mysterious. The most talented ... Prince. The one word name pretty much says it all.

If you're not from Minneapolis, you can't really understand how much Prince means to us. He became one of the world's biggest stars, but he was OURS. He never left. He stayed in Minneapolis, and made us all cooler by proxy. He loved Minnesota. He supported its sports teams, he supported its artists. We used to make our Mom take us to Rudolph's Barbecue to eat as kids, just so we could look at Prince's booth, and hope that he would come in while we were there. Every performer that would come to play in Minneapolis would tend to cover Prince, or at least mention him. First Avenue is like a church to us all, ever since Purple Rain, and Prince's star outside on its wall is becoming a massive memorial as we speak. The city is in deep mourning, with people gathering at Electric Fetus (where Prince went all the time, as recently as this last Saturday for Record Store Day) to cry and buy music. I've had so many texts, from friends who all feel the same way. Gutted. In fact, one of the first texts I got this morning was from my Mom, feeling for me, but also sad herself. Prince finally won her over. I feel so far away from home, and my people, and know this loss is just as massive and crushing for the entire city as it is for me. I bet the entire city will be bathed in purple tonight, and that Prince's music is all you'll be hearing back there for some time to come. At least we'll always have that ... and now maybe Molly will finally get to meet Prince.

I'm just so, so sad. Wow. A world without Prince. Thank you for your lifetime of music, Prince, and for making this Minneapolis girl so happy for so long. Nothing Compares 2 U.