For those that know me, my taste in current, popular music is a bit anachronistic, with most of my iPod selections being created somewhere in the century between 1880-1980. Sure there are exceptions, I’ve liked much of what Coldplay has done, have been known to download a dance track (see: Britney, Beyonce, Cristina) here and there and even attended a KCRW concert last year featuring The Shins and Lily Allen, an artist I somehow came into contact with and liked *before* the show.
This all said, most new music I buy and listen to these days still arrives via artists who made their first records during the time period above (see: Springsteen, Costello et. al).
So I’ll admit to no advance excitement when I was invited to the Hollywood Bowl this past Sunday to see a British singer named Adele. My desire to go stood solely in the fact that I love the venue, especially when I get to enjoy it within the confines of the cozy boxes that round the front section. It’s always a great excuse to pack up the picnic basket with goodies (see: cheese, bread, almonds, salads, desserts) and head outside to listen to music under the stars.
But my favorite part of being in the boxes is sneaking peaks at people’s wine selections (I do this at restaurants too but for some reason it feels more like a competition at the Bowl). Within sight of my corrective lenses were familiar labels like Williams-Seylem, Longoria, Guigal, Cakebread. In my own box we had a Chateauneuf Du Pape, a 2004 Cab and a (shameless plug) Six Degrees. All complimented the food and atmosphere perfectly.
The highlight of the night though was the singer herself, a 21 year old with a voice that carried through the Bowl and lifted us up. Surely there were others like me, there with a season ticket in hand, who come out regardless of the performer, be it the LA Phil or David Byrne. So no doubt there were many among us who had never heard of Adele.
I’ll venture to guess though that more than a few people (myself included) came home and downloaded her amazing album 19 and are listening to it right now, as I am. Every once in awhile, as fellow blogger Marc Goldsmith often notes, music has the ability to fly us places we thought we’d never go. To feel something the dictionary can’t help us to describe.
Do yourself a favor and download the track, Hometown Glory. If it doesn’t move you to tears, I’d check your pulse.
You might be dead.
