Last month, as a belated birthday gift, our good friend Andrew treated myself, the Husband and our friend Talia to a night at the Hollywood Bowl. The show? Rodrigo y Gabriela. The seats? Box. I was psyched. In my (two) decades of attending Bowl shows, I had yet to sit in a box at the Bowl, and now wholly indebted to Andrew’s Nana, I could now check this off the list.
I, to much chagrin, had never heard the music of Rodrigo y Gabriela before that night. I knew there would be guitars, but that’s like one saying they’ve never eaten nachos but tasted a tortilla chip. Or something to that effect anyway.
A mid-August show, this would probably be one of our last Bowl shows of the summer. The air was perfectly balmy and the vibrant colors lit up the stage so that it looked especially ethereal. There’s something about the Bowl that really epitomizes summer for me.
An added bonus, the Los Angeles Philharmonic was there, dressed to the nines and looking especially dapper. They were, of course, marvelous as they always are.
The box allows four people to sit comfortably in separate chairs (no plebian bench seating here!) and to dine on two folding tabletops. I saw centerpieces, I saw votive candles, I saw bottles of Dom. People don’t mess around in a box at the Bowl.
Sitting exactly 11 rows in front of the stage affords incredible views, and this show in particular lent itself nicely to the situation. If I had not actually seen Gabriela play a guitar the way she played it, I would never have believed my ears. The effect of her lightning quick hands flying across the guitar strings sounded more like percussion than strings, and her guitar like another musical instrument altogether. The fluidity and harmony between Rodrigo and Gabriela were literally jaw-dropping. As the woman behind me so succinctly said once they started playing “…holy shit.” (Which indeed summed it up quite nicely to her credit). A hush came over the crowd as we all listened and watched this incredible performance under the stars.
To top off a perfect acoustic night with perfect company? Fireworks.
Sigh. I do love you eternally, Hollywood Bowl. Nana’s box or not.