A lot of attendees were confused and surprised by the mix of punk-pop, orchestral pops, patriotism, patriarchy and pyrotechnics. But not unpleasantly.
Still pixieish, Go-Go's rhythm guitarist Jane Wiedlin remembered the band's origins just down Hollywood Boulevard 40 years ago, later reinacting punk defiance by mock-refusing to "bring it down" at the command of Mom, dutifully portrayed by singer Belinda Carlisle, who hasn't worn ripped fishnets in quite a while. Neither the Bowl's nor the L.A. Philharmonic's websites mentioned that the Go-Go's would be backed on half their bouncy masterworks by the L.A. Phil's Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, an unlikely match that blurred the beat on all but the balladic "Here You Are" and the Capitols' twitchy "Cool Jerk." The band grinned and bopped it regardless, with bassist Kathy "The Rocker" Valentine and guitarist-keyboardist Charlotte "The Musician" Caffey grooving hard atop the drums of big Chris Arredondo, tech guy for surgery-sidelined Gina Schock. Such good songwriters and performers -- tourists and old gutter dwellers alike were pleased to vacation with them.
Subtract another 100 years, chronologically and sociologically, to synchronize with the 140th birthday of George M. Cohan, composer of "Yankee Doodle Boy," "You're a Grand Old Flag" and other American treasures medleyized to open this evening. African-American orchestra conductor Thomas Wilkins took no issue with Cohan's having performed in blackface as a young vaudevillian, or with the choice of bedecking the orchestra in white dinner jackets, which might have reminded observers either of pre-integration Benny Goodman bands or of bygone railroad porters.
The program opened with "The Star-Spangled Banner" and continued with salutes to each branch of the U.S. military, many members of which must have been pondering the discrepancy between their receipt of so much recent gratitude, and the dire neglect servicepeople have suffered at the hands of our Veterans Administration. Quite a few veterans did get in free tonight. The retired flyboy in front of me inspired a sentimental tear with his military haircut, twin to the childhood trims my Navy dad used to inflict, looking (not far from the truth) as if they had been administered by a man with a gin in one hand and a honed bayonet in the other.
Near the end, a young red-uniformed drum corps strode across the stage, pointing up how hard it is for dozens of moving musicians to stay synchronized in an arena where the sound is ricocheting all over the place. I don't know what they were playing; maybe it had something to do with the Go-Go's hit "We Got the Beat." But I liked it best when considered as a tribute to the polyrhythms of Elvin Jones.
Among the program's many nationalistic references on this Independence Day Eve -- an appearance by a U.S. Air Force band, the uplifting blast of Sousa's "The Stars and Stripes Forever" -- a spectator would have been hard pressed to locate a declaration of unalienable rights. But maybe I just wasn't paying attention. Or standing at it.
As the show concluded, it became clear that most of us, politics and music aside, had come for the quite unusual and creative fireworks, which imitated a wonderful improvisation. Bright colors streaked and wobbled from left and right, meeting in the middle for harmonious patterns. Bombs exploded without harm. White rocket trails shot upward, burst amid dense clouds of smoke and seeded the black sky with Freedom.