billie eilish

I can’t tell you exactly what time Phoebe Bridgers started her concert Friday night or exactly what time it ended. I’m reluctant to say which of her band members was dressed as a crocodile since I can’t check my memory against a photo.

Most regretfully, I can’t report the precise words Bridgers used to describe her difficult relationship with her late father as she introduced her song “Still Standing” — though I can say her language so quieted the thousands of people inside Inglewood’s Intuit Dome that it almost felt like you could hear her thinking.

The first of three hometown shows on Bridgers’ Lost Tour, Friday’s gig was a phone-free experience: As you walked into the arena, you surrendered your device to a venue employee, who locked it in a fabric pouch that would put you beyond the reach of the digital world, including your clock and your camera and your voice recorder, until you walked back out.

In her lengthy preamble to “Still Standing” — it’s a chilling highlight from the singer’s latest album, “Lost Weekend,” about how abuse can shape ideas of love — Bridgers thanked her fans for going along with the no-phones policy, which she framed as a necessary condition for performing such intimate material.

Had phones been allowed, she added, this very moment “would have been a TikTok video with someone who doesn’t like my face commenting on it.” (A quote that sharp I could easily remember.)

Widely expected to land multiple nominations for February’s Grammy Awards, “Lost Weekend” — which in addition to Bridgers’ dad’s death addresses the flowering of her romantic relationship with the comedian Bo Burnham — complements all the emotional bloodletting with a biting sense of humor. Friday’s show opened, as the album does, with “The Outside,” which ushers the listener into her dad’s funeral this way: “Crying in a suit and tie / But you should see the other guy / One more time for old time’s sake / I’ll watch him get carried away.”

At Intuit, after she brought out Billie Eilish to join her for her song “Savior Complex” — guaranteed Instagram content in any other circumstance — Bridgers said, “You don’t have your phones,” then added a literal “ha-ha.”

It’s anyone’s guess whether Bridgers would’ve been able to muster the deep feelings she put across Friday if she hadn’t banned the handheld computers whose bluish glow has become a ubiquitous feature of the concert landscape. For all her vulnerability on “Lost Weekend,” she remains a pro who’s been performing since she was a teenager; my suspicion is that she probably would’ve found a way to get there.

What I know is that she did get there: Wearing a Peter Pan costume the night before Halloween, Bridgers sang folky ballads like “Kill Me” and “The Governor’s Waltz” with a tenderness that belied a pretty tough view of her experiences over the last few years; relatively rowdy rock songs like “Bobby” and “Lost Boys,” meanwhile, crackled with an energy bordering on the ecstatic.

The show took place across a pair of stages: one beneath an illuminated dome that resembled either a spaceship or an old-fashioned greenhouse, the other a smaller circle positioned near the middle of the arena floor. Bridgers and her musicians (who’d dressed up as Tinker Bell and John and other Pan-related characters) moved a couple of times between the two, which was about it as elaborate as the production got.

Beyond Eilish, Bridgers welcomed the indie-pop band Muna, which did its song “Silk Chiffon,” and her younger brother, Jackson, who sang a vocal part in “I Can’t Wait” performed on the new album by Geese’s Cameron Winter. At the beginning of “Lost Weekend’s” title track, Bridgers had to futz with her keyboard when it didn’t do what she wanted.

“Of course, this happens at home,” she said.

In the audience, the lack of phones provided for a level of attention you could practically feel, never less so than in “As Above,” which she did after “Still Standing” and for which she centered herself alone at the base of a cone of light.

“I thought about my mom driving herself to the hospital,” she sang, green felt hat perched on her head, daring us not to turn away.

What’s the opposite of a victory lap?

One answer arrived this year in the form of “Music, Fashion, Film,” Charli XCX’s bracing follow-up to 2024’s Grammy-winning “Brat.” An emotionally complicated dance-pop album about the relationship between power and vulnerability, “Brat” struck a nerve in a weird cultural moment and finally brought Charli the kind of stardom she’d been openly seeking for ages. In the LP’s immediate aftermath, the English musician hungrily scooped up the spoils of her success — playing Coachella’s main stage, starring in a highbrow mockumentary, soundtracking Hollywood’s latest take on “Wuthering Heights.”

Yet “Music, Fashion, Film” wonders what it all meant. It’s a digitally enhanced rock record — probably 2026’s best thing-with-guitar — that cycles through thoughts on ambition and trend-chasing before landing with a moving sense of serenity on the idea that everybody dies and takes their accomplishments with them.

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“No One Lasts Forever” is the album’s final track, and Sunday night that was also Charli’s closer at Inglewood’s Kia Forum, where she headlined the second of two shows over the weekend.

Structurally, the concert bookended songs from “Brat” (for which she was accompanied by prerecorded tracks) with stuff from “Music, Fashion, Film” (for which a scuzzy live band backed her up). There were stray oldies too, including “Constant Repeat,” which she introduced as one of the first songs she wrote about her husband, George Daniel — “even though it’s not exactly truthful,” she added — and the landmark hyperpop cut “Vroom Vroom.”

She also did “House,” a spooky goth-folk song from “Wuthering Heights” that had her writhing on the stage in the white-hot heat of a single spotlight — a sex kitten turned scream queen (or perhaps vice versa). And she brought out Adéla, the Slovakian singer famously booted from the reality show that created Katseye, to do her viral hit “Nicole Kidman,” which is just one of a handful of rough-edged pop hits this year that demonstrate “Brat’s” lasting influence.

Indeed, what was illuminating about the middle of the show — basically a half-hour-long club night with strobes cranked happily to here’s-the-seizure-you-ordered — was seeing how very un-tired Charli’s fans are of being pulverized by songs like “Club Classics,” for which she donned her Superman’s-cape sunglasses, and “Guess,” during which pairs of underwear rained down on the audience in a nod to the music video for the song’s remix with Billie Eilish.

Charli had opened with the new album’s “Rock Music,” in which she declares that “the dance floor is dead”; here, her sarcasm fooled precisely nobody.

My favorite part was the home stretch of tunes from “Music, Fashion, Film”: “Camera,” a startlingly frank confession of her movie-star aspirations; “Magic Metal Montana,” a deeply tender ode to her friend and collaborator A.G. Cook; “SS26,” a jittery electro-punk jam about “walking on a runway that goes straight to hell.”

I love the strange emotion in these songs — the feeling that you might as well say what you want because the only thing more embarrassing than taking a risk is not taking one.

At some point, Charli lit up a cigarette and waved it around like someone who’d discovered a critical truth. What were they gonna do — make her end the concert early?

Define early; better yet, define late.