hollywood bowl

There’s a particular niche of sophisticated, loungy music that thrived from the late ’90s into the mid-2000s. It grew out of ELO’s regal rock and Serge Gainsbourg’s loucheness, taking on bits of U.K. trip-hop, midcentury exotica, the Largo scene’s orchestral flourishes and Daft Punk’s talkboxes. I don’t quite have a word for it — conversation-pit-core? — but a primary text of it is Air’s “Moon Safari.”

The French duo of Nicolas Godin and Jean-Benoît Dunckel released “Moon Safari,” Air’s debut LP, to wide acclaim in 1998. The band’s meticulously hazy synth pads paired beautifully with ultra-minimal funk bass and loping tempos. “Moon Safari” set a new benchmark for upmarket French pop, with singles like “Sexy Boy” and “Kelly Watch the Stars” proving they had chops for hooks as well. The band immediately followed it with the score for Sofia Coppola’s debut feature, “The Virgin Suicides,” and those two albums locked in Air as the ultimate turn-of-the-century band for tasteful European melancholy.

At the Bowl on Sunday, the band revisited the whole of “Moon Safari” with the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, capping off KCRW’s festival season there. Since that album’s release, Coppola’s daughter Romy grew old enough to become an influencer herself, yet “The Virgin Suicides” remains a mood-board favorite for Gen Z. Fellow travelers like Bonobo, who opened the night with a DJ set, have become arena stars in their own right.

“Moon Safari” has held up wonderfully on its own merits. But as algorithms funnel audiences deeper into formless background listening, Sunday’s show was a reminder that chill can be compelling. Air’s intense focus gave these wispy songs a strong backbone too.

From the opener of “La Femme d’Argent,” lifted by Godin’s nimble basslines, the vibes were, as they say, immaculate. Dressed in all-white formalwear, the band took care to show how much compositional rigor went into this album’s laid-back feeling. The arrangements highlighted the nuanced tones of each of Dunckel’s many synths, and how the band’s Beatles-y chord changes could keep your ears locked into the most stark passages.

Extra credit goes to Air’s creative direction and lighting designer, who locked the band inside a rectangular elevated platform that gave the look of performing inside a James Turrell sculpture. It’s a neat conceptual challenge to visually enliven a famously blissed-out album like this onstage, and Air did it with exquisite panache on Sunday.

The Hollywood Bowl Orchestra usually kicks back on shows like this, adding some sizzle and arrangement richness but functioning more as another band member. The orchestra’s horns perked up during “Ce Matin-là” and raised the dramatic temperature on closer “Le Voyage de Pénélope,” but the whole set was an exercise in restraint as a means of making sure every good idea gets its shine. “Moon Safari” didn’t need much else, but what it got was illuminating.

The back half of the set went into the band’s score work for Coppola — “Highschool Lover” and “Alone in Kyoto,” from “The Virgin Suicides” and “Lost In Translation” respectively, stirred the wistful elder millennials among the crowd, this writer included. They adopted a Daft Punk-ish distance on “Electronic Performers,” touting how “MIDI clocks ring in my mind … We need envelope filters to say how we feel,” but they didn’t really need that wink and nudge. When they broke the spell of ethereal cuts like “Cherry Blossom Girl” for heavier, krautrock-driven numbers like “Don’t Be Light,” they proved that being roused from tasteful stoned pondering is as fun as falling into it.

Only John Williams could have put me in the orbit of one of history’s most famous basketball players. Kobe Bryant, like so many others, was a huge fan of Williams’ music; he befriended and sought out the composer for career advice and, when he made his post-athletic pivot to filmmaking, hired Williams to compose a short score.

And because I cover film music for a living, I was able to interview Bryant — along with Williams and Disney animation legend Glen Keane — for The Times in the spring of 2017. I even got to meet Bryant in person, backstage at the Hollywood Bowl, when he rehearsed his narration of “Dear Basketball” at an all-Williams concert. It was an obscenely hot day, and I waited outside Bryant’s dressing room while they finished drying his sweat-soaked shirt with a hair dryer before he came out and cheerfully shook my hand.

I gave Bryant and “Dear Basketball” a fair amount of real estate in my new book, “John Williams: A Composer’s Life,” not because of his fame or athletic prowess, but because I feel that his short film inspired one of Williams’ most beautiful works of the last decade, and also because there was something poetic and moving about the whole affair, and about saying goodbye to the thing you love the most — especially as the film became a kind of eulogy for Bryant after his untimely death in 2020.

[The below excerpt is from Tim Greiving’s “John Williams: A Composer’s Life,” out Sept. 2. Greiving is a frequent contributor to The Times.]

Tim Greiving

(Laura Hinely)

Kobe Bryant, the 18-time NBA All-Star, was an unexpected admirer of John’s music: as a boy, Bryant would tie a towel around his neck and run around to the theme of Superman; as a player, he used the Imperial March to hype himself up before games; and as a father, he would rock his infant daughters to sleep on his chest listening to Hedwig’s Theme. The six-foot-six athlete from Philly could hardly have been less like John, but he recognized mastery when he heard it. “I asked myself a question,” Bryant said: “What makes a John Williams piece timeless? How is he using each instrument? How is he using the space between them? How is he building momentum, and then how is he taking it away to build it again?” As a basketball player, Bryant said he was “essentially conducting a game,” “so I just wanted to talk to him about how he composed music and try to find something similar that I can then use to help my game as a leader and winning championships.”

Bryant first contacted John for counsel just before the 2008 NBA season. “The first thing I told Kobe was, I’d never seen a basketball game,” John confessed. “High school, college, professional, or television. And of course he laughed.” “But once I had told him my reason for reaching out to him,” Bryant said, “he saw the connection immediately…If we look in our same industry and we just look at things from that funnel, then you wind up essentially recycling information. So sometimes you look outside of that discipline to have a new point of view, a new perspective on it. [John] was digging it.”

They continued to see each other over the years, with Bryant often visiting John backstage after shows at the Hollywood Bowl. When Bryant retired from basketball in 2016, he turned his attention to entertainment. He wrote a sentimental open letter, “Dear Basketball,” as a retirement announcement, and one of his first post-game projects was turning that text into a short film. He wanted it crafted by undisputed masters of their fields, so he commissioned Disney animation veteran Glen Keane— who designed and animated Ariel in The Little Mermaid, among other achievements— and he asked John to write the score. The first thing John said to Bryant was, “I do classical pieces, and it’s all by hand,” almost as a warning. Bryant answered: “The piece will be hand-animated by Glen Keane, who is you in the animation space. I want it to have the human touch. I don’t want it to be poppy, I don’t want it to be hip-hoppy. I want timeless, classical music.”

Somehow, these three disparate artists—with two decades between each of them—hit it off. Keane was an avid fan of Lost in Space growing up in the 1960s, and when he told John how much he loved the music, John was completely embarrassed. “But it’s wonderful, John!” Keane said. “It held the promise of wonder and excitement and fun and quirky and scary and dangerous, and it was all in this one score. And John— the roots of your entire career are in that score.” Keane asked if he could play some of the old music. John said, “No, please don’t!” “No, I really gotta play it for you,” Keane insisted. “So I did.” The unlikely trio sat around a table in Keane’s office “and we just talked,” said Bryant. “John talked about how [the letter] made him feel, Glen how it makes him feel, and we all centered on the same thing, which is why I wrote it in the first place: the beauty of finding what it is that you love to do, and then finding the beauty of knowing that you will not be able to do that forever. Once they saw the nature of the piece, there was really nothing else to discuss.”

(Oxford University Press )

Keane illustrated the five-minute film with graphite on paper, depicting the arc of Bryant’s letter— from young Kobe tossing rolled-up tube socks, to NBA glory, to retiring at 37. John was equally inspired by Bryant’s childlike enthusiasm and Keane’s artisanal process. “The drawings have great fluidity and, in the best sense of the word, great simplicity,” John said. “They really are gorgeous, not only to look at, but rhythmically they’re fabulous.” Keane always animated while listening to music, and for this story it was selections from Empire of the Sun. John used that score as a reference point, but initially he wrote something that was too big, “and he went back and he rewrote it for something that was more understated,” said Keane, “in a similar way that Kobe’s delivery, his narration, is very personal, uninflected, not trying to sell anything. More like revealing. Kobe’s got a very quiet voice, and that also had a big impact in how we animated.”

John took a short break from The Last Jedi and spent two weeks in March 2017 to write and record this short piece—a gift for Bryant. When the towering baller arrived at the Sony scoring stage, John said: “I hope that you like what I’ve written.” Bryant just looked at John and said, “I feel pretty confident that it’s going to be just fine.” When Bryant heard John’s piece for the very first time, emanating from a symphony orchestra, “Oh my God,” he said. “I almost lost my mind. As soon as his hands went up and then the music started, I almost yelled out loud— but I had to remember that the red light was on and we’re recording… It was the most unreal experience I could ever have.” Bryant looked over “and just put his head on my shoulder,” said Keane, “like, ‘I can’t believe it.’ It was so beautiful. Then when it was done, John turned to us and said, ‘I promise it’s going to get better.’”

It was one of the simplest, yet most inspired pieces John wrote during this decade: a brief journey taken by a humble, hummable tune that bottled a young boy’s guileless dreams and aspiration for greatness and glory. His hymnal theme begins as a gentle woodwind duet, which is passed to strings and then accelerates into soaring triumph to accompany Bryant’s heyday. Then it grows small again, a lonely keyboard wandering a broken chord as Bryant’s voiceover admits that his body can only play for so long. John’s knack for noble flying music closes the loop, with heraldic horns and rolling timpani connecting Bryant’s story to his music for American heroism— concluding with a bittersweet reprise of the theme on piano and an uplifting coda as the credits roll. Like the letter itself, the score is part valentine, part elegy—and John put his heart into it. He premiered it at the Hollywood Bowl in September, and Bryant surprised the audience by joining John onstage to narrate. The short film won an Oscar in March 2018—and then very shortly afterward, it became a poignant eulogy for Bryant when he died, age 41, in a helicopter crash on a foggy Sunday morning in Calabasas that also killed his 13-year-old daughter, Gianna. John’s wistful, symphonic poem suddenly took on a new shade. “It is elegiac, but it isn’t weepy,” John said of the film when he first scored it, never imagining the sudden tragic fate of his young friend.

It strikes its own manner of saluting the man and the game and the accomplishments with a lot of modesty, I think. It’s very touching, and in the end that may be its highest achievement, that it’s able to praise this man the way it does, without a lot of false vanity or hubris that could easily have spilled into it. That’s my take on it in any case.

Need a model for how to thrive in the stranglehold of the modern music economy? How about a band of Australian garage-rockers who cut albums at the pace of an Atlanta rap crew, tour like peak-era Grateful Dead and who just told the biggest company in streaming to go to hell.

King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard are a fascinating phenomenon in rock. Over 15 years, their LPs have flitted between genres with insouciant musicianship, pulling from punky scuzz, regal soul, krautrock, electro-funk and psychedelia. These LPs come at an insane clip — sometimes up to five in a year, 27 so far. Their freewheeling live shows made them a coveted arena act, when few new rock bands can aspire to that.

Two weeks ago, they became probably the most high-profile band to take their music off Spotify in the wake of Chief Executive Daniel Ek’s investments in an AI-driven weapons firm. The band self-releases on its own labels — they needed no one’s permission.

King Gizzard returns to the Hollywood Bowl on Sunday, this time backed by the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra for a live read of its new album “Phantom Island,” a standout LP that adds deft orchestration to its toolkit. The band’s frontman, Stu Mackenzie, spoke to The Times about giving Spotify the boot, how the L.A. Phil inspired the new record’s arrangements and what they’ve figured out about staying afloat while artists get squeezed from all sides today.

What was your initial reaction to Daniel Ek’s investments in an AI arms company?

A bit of shock, and then feeling that I shouldn’t be shocked. We’ve been saying f— Spotify for years. In our circle of musician friends, that’s what people say all the time, for all of these other reasons which are well documented. We saw a couple of other bands who we admire, and thought “I don’t really want our music to be here, at least right now.” I don’t really consider myself an activist, and I don’t feel comfortable soapboxing. But this feels like a decision staying true to ourselves, and doing what we think is is right for our music, having our music in places that we feel all right about.

Was choosing to leave a complicated decision for the band?

The thing that made it hard was I do want to have our music be accessible to people. I don’t really care about making money from streaming. I know it’s unfair, and I know they are banking so much. But for me personally, I just want to make music, and I want people to be able to listen to it. The hard part was to take that away from so many people. But sometimes you’ve just got to say, “Well, sorry, we’re not going to be here right now.” In the end, it actually was just one quick phone call with the other guys to get off the ship.

As the sizes of everything gets larger, all of the stakes start to feel higher. I grapple with that, because that’s not the kind of band that I like to be in, where it feels like everything is high stakes. I do miss the time where we could just do anything without any consequences, but I still try really hard to operate like that. In the past, I have felt tied to it, that we have to be there. But with this band, we have been happy to take a lot of risks, and for the most part, I’m just happy to see what happens if we just choose the path that feels right for us.

Do you think Spotify noticed or cares that you left?

I don’t expect Daniel Ek to pay attention to this. We have made a lot of experimental moves with the way we’ve released records — bootlegging stuff for free. We have allowed ourselves a license to break conventions, and the people who listen to our music have a trust and a faith to go along on this ride together. I feel grateful to have the sort of fan base you’ll just trust, even when you do something a little counterintuitive. It feels like an experiment to me, like, “Let’s just go away from Spotify, and let’s see what happens.” Why does this have to be a big deal? It actually feels like we’re just trying to find our own positivity in a dark situation.

“Phantom Island” is a really distinct record in your catalog for using so much orchestration. I heard some conversations with the L.A. Phil planted the seed for it?

We played this Hollywood Bowl show a little over two years ago, and being the home stadium of the L.A. Phil, we naturally chatted with them at the show. It did plant a seed of doing a show there backed by the orchestra. We happened to be halfway through making a record at that exact time that we weren’t really sure how to finish. When we started talking about doing a show backed by an orchestra, we thought, “Let’s just make an album with an orchestra.” We rearranged and rewrote these songs with a composer, Chad Kelly. We knew the songs needed something, and we ended up rewriting the songs to work for a rock band in a symphonic medium.

Were there any records you looked to for how to make that approach work? I hear a lot of ELO in there, Isaac Hayes, maybe the Beatles’ “A Day in the Life.”

To be completely honest, I just don’t think there was a model for it. I think we landed on something that we only could have made because we wrote the songs not knowing there were going to be orchestral parts. When you ask me what were the touchstones, well, there weren’t any. I was probably thinking of a lot of music from the early ’60s, a lot of soul and R&B music at that time, which had often had orchestral arrangements. Etta James, for instance, was in the tone and the feel. This isn’t the perfect way to do it, but it was a really serendipitous process.

Your live shows are pretty raucous to say the least; how did you adapt to keep that feeling with orchestras behind you on this tour?

I was pretty anxious, to be honest. We only had one rehearsal the day before the first show. We had to go in and cross our fingers, like, “Okay, I think that’s going to work. I’m just going to hope that it translates.” Our rehearsal was the most intense two and a half hours, but for the show, you’re just like, “All right, this is it.” You’ve just got to commit to what’s on the page.

We’ve had some really awesome people collaborating with us — Sean O’Laughlin did the arrangements for the live shows, and Sarah Hicks is an amazing conductor. We’re just a garage rock band from Australia; we’re very lucky to get to honestly work with the best of the best.

On the other end of the venue spectrum, what was it like playing a residency in a Lithuanian prison?

It was a real prison until really recently [Lukiškės Prison 2.0 in Vilnius, Lithuania]. The history is very dark — like, very, very dark. But there are artist spaces there now, and it’s quite a culturally positive force. They’re the things that make you restore your faith in humanity. You spend so much of your life losing faith in it, and then you go to places like that, and you’re like, “Yeah, humans are okay.”

Speaking of threats to humanity, I think your band contests the idea that artists need to use AI to make enough music to be successful on streaming. You’re proof you can make a ton of music quickly, with real people.

Making music is fun as f—, especially making music with other people. That’s a deeply motivating factor, and we just have a ton of fun making music together. It feels human, it feels spiritual, it feels social. It’s deeply central to who we all are as human beings. And it doesn’t feel hard. It doesn’t feel like we’re fighting against some AI trend or anything. We just make music because it feels good.

You’re an arena act with your own label, and pretty autonomous as a band. Do you think you’ve figured out something important about how to be successful in the modern music economy?

I think we’ve been good at asking internal questions, and questioning what everybody else does and whether we need to do that or not. Sometimes we do the same thing that everybody else does. Sometimes we do something completely different because it makes sense to us. I think we’ve been quite good at being true to ourselves and being confident, or maybe reckless enough to do that.

I do think there’s some serendipity and fate in the personalities of the other guys in the band, and the people that we work with, who have have also been on a pretty unconventional journey and have faith that — in the least pretentious way possible — that other people will dig it, and not worry too much about the other other stuff.

Do you hope to see more and bigger bands striking out on their own, since the big institutions of the music business have yet again proven to not really reflect their values?

I just know what has worked for us, and I’m not sure that means that it’ll work for other people. I don’t know if there’s a model in it. If there is a model, it’s that you don’t have to follow a path if you don’t want to. The well-treaded path is going to work for some people, but you don’t have to stay on that.

I think one thing about this band is that we’ve all been at peace with failing. That if this all fell apart and we went back home and we got regular jobs, I think we would say, “Well, we’re proud of ourselves. We had a good time.” We did what we wanted to do and just suffered the consequences along the way. We’re probably being reckless enough to make potentially selfish decisions over and over again. But people, for some reason, want to come out and see us do that, and we’re super grateful.

It felt like 2022 all over again when Josh Gad took to Instagram to express his heartbreak about contracting a “virus known as COVID” and announce his decision to pull out of playing King Herod in the highly anticipated production of “Jesus Christ Superstar” at the Hollywood Bowl, which staged its first night of a three-night run Friday.

Gad hinted that maybe — if he tested negative — the situation might change. The following day, however, John Stamos announced on social media that his weekend “just got biblical” and that he was stepping in for Gad in the show.

On Friday, things got extra dramatic when Gad said that he had tested negative. Fans on his social media clamored to know what that might mean, but he stayed mum until Saturday when he posted a photo of himself in an elaborate gold lamé costume with the words, “See you all Sunday night.”

A rep for the Los Angeles Philharmonic said that final confirmation that Gad will step onto stage won’t come until noon Sunday.

Stamos appeared onstage as Herod on Friday night, bringing some comic relief to an electric, deeply emotional show.

After one of star Cynthia Erivo’s solos, the audience clapped so loud, long and reverently, that tears came to the singer’s eyes — which only caused the crowd to cheer harder. The moment of symbiotic love lasted for at least 3 minutes, maybe more.

The Bowl was packed with marquee names, including former Second Gentleman Doug Emhoff, Jim Carrey and Ted Neely (who played Jesus in the 1973 film adaptation of the musical). Erivo brought composer Andrew Lloyd Webber onto the stage as a special guest during curtain call.

Still, Gad fans were many — you could tell because they held Olaf dolls and wore Olaf jewelry — and they could be heard expressing their sorrow at the absence of Gad in the crush of the crowd after the show.

Gad’s addition to the cast, which included Erivo as Jesus, Adam Lambert as Judas and Phillipa Soo as Mary Magdalene, was hailed by fans; and in an interview with The Times during rehearsal, Gad spoke about being beyond excited to perform at the Bowl for the very first time with a stellar cast that he called the Avengers of musical theater.

“I’ve wanted to play the Hollywood Bowl forever,” said Gad. “But I never thought I was good enough to play the Hollywood Bowl,” he added with a self-deprecating smile

Even though the role of King Herod entails a single song — a kind of comic interlude that Gad likened to the part of King George in “Hamilton” — Gad showed up at as many rehearsals as possible before he came down with COVID. He just liked sitting on the sidelines, soaking up the scene and the incredible talent on display, he said.

At a Saturday rehearsal before the show, he filmed numbers on phones for various cast members and cheered his heart out. His sense of excitement was palpable. Now he’ll get one night to give “King Herod’s Song” his all.

Adam Lambert sits on a rickety wooden chair just outside the main chapel at the Hollywood United Methodist Church on a break from rehearsing the musical “Jesus Christ Superstar.”

Dressed in beige shorts and a vest with matching mid-calf boots, Lambert wears his trademark glitter eye makeup with thick black liner. He’s calm and collected, content to spend his lunch break chatting, even though the rehearsal schedule is a breakneck nine days total. He chalks up his easygoing demeanor to the high-wattage professionalism of the cast, and his familiarity with the music.

Lambert first heard the soundtrack on one of his dad’s vinyl records when he was about 10 years old.

“I’ve always wanted to do that musical. I’ve always wanted to play Judas,” he says with a smile. “And when they told me Cynthia [Erivo] was interested, I was like, ‘Wow, this is gonna be crazy.’”

Lambert, a fan-favorite “American Idol” runner-up who began performing with Queen in 2011, plays Judas to Erivo’s Jesus in the Hollywood Bowl production directed by Tony-winning choreographer Sergio Trujillo.

Josh Gad, who portrays King Herod, calls the cast “the musical theater version of the Avengers.” He’s referring to Erivo and Lambert, in addition to Phillipa Soo as Mary Magdalene, Milo Manheim as Peter, Raúl Esparza as Pontius Pilate, Tyrone Huntley as Simon and Brian Justin Crum as Annas. The sold-out show runs from Friday to Sunday.

Tyrone Huntley performs as Simon during a rehearsal of “Jesus Christ Superstar” at the Hollywood United Methodist Church in Los Angeles.

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

Judging from the ongoing commentary and controversy over the casting on social media, a queer, Black, female actor playing Jesus and a gay actor portraying Judas feel like a revelation to fans grappling with mounting concerns about civil rights in America. Over the last six months, the Trump administration has curtailed diversity, equity and inclusion programs and attempted to roll back key legal protections for certain members of the LGBTQ+ community.

“The challenge for the audience of seeing a female Black Jesus is so exciting. And we all feel the excitement,” says Lambert, adding that the show doesn’t change lyrics or pronouns. “Maybe it doesn’t have to do with male or female. I don’t really know if it matters what gender Jesus was, because it was about the teachings and the love and the connection to faith. So shouldn’t it transcend gender?”

Power — who has it and who doesn’t — has emerged as a defining narrative in 2025. That was also the case 2,000 years ago when Pontius Pilate ordered the crucifixion of Jesus, who posed a serious threat to the religious and political primacy of the Pharisees, the Herodians and the Romans. The 1971 musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice imagines the final days of Jesus’ life, including his agony, before he ultimately accepts his fate.

Gad is keenly aware of the notion of power as historic through-line as he approaches his titular number, “Herod’s Song,” in which the King of Judea coyly mocks Jesus before taking a frightening turn into true menace.

“This is a man who’s so insecure he can’t afford to let Jesus out of his chains in order to actually face him without the help of soldiers around him,” Gad says. “My hope is that I’m getting to bring one of the greatest hypocrites to life in a way that will both make people laugh and also make them recognize that archetype.”

Brian Grohl, left, Josh Gad, Adam Lambert and Sergio Trujillo are bringing “Jesus Christ Superstar” to the Hollywood Bowl.

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

The musical was first released as a concept album in 1970 and played at the Hollywood Bowl in 1971, before debuting on Broadway later that year. During its run, protests outside the stage door were commonplace, and although the musical has reached the pinnacle of success over the years, it has remained controversial.

Big summer musicals have been a staple of the Hollywood Bowl since 2000, but the shows went dark due to the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. With the exception of “Kinky Boots” in 2022, “Jesus Christ Superstar” is the first of what Bowl leaders hope will be an annual resumption of the beloved programming.

“We wanted to make sure that when we came back, it was the most spectacular thing we could do,” says Meghan Umber, president of the Hollywood Bowl and chief programming officer at the Los Angeles Philharmonic.

“Jesus Christ Superstar,” was always at the top of the Bowl’s musical wishlist but wasn’t available until now, adds Brian Grohl, associate director of programming for the L.A. Phil.

“The number of titles that can sustain three nights at the Hollywood Bowl is a narrowed-down list already,” Grohl said, so securing the title resulted in a lot of jumping and shouting around the office. And when it came to who would play Jesus, Umber and Grohl both say Erivo topped the list. Her “yes” made all the others follow.

Adam Lambert performs Saturday during a rehearsal of “Jesus Christ Superstar.”

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

Gad calls Erivo — who was not present at a recent rehearsal because of a previous engagement — a “generational talent.” And he’s far from alone. Talk to anyone on the cast or crew and they will immediately hold forth on her extraordinary gifts.

“I see the hand of God in her,” Trujillo says reverently. “Even now, me being in the room with her, I hear it and I see it, and it is transcendent.”

Trujillo decided to go back to the musical’s roots as a concept album and is staging the show as a bare-bones rock concert. Instead of elaborate scenic design, there are black road boxes, microphones and cords. Even the costumes are contemporary with nods to their lineage. A rhythm band will play onstage and a 37-piece orchestra will perform behind a giant LED screen that will create the illusion that the musicians are hovering in the sky above the action.

Keeping the show in the present and infusing it with the raw energy of youth culture was crucial to Trujillo’s vision, he says, adding that in the spirit of rock ‘n’ roll, the musical “reflects the turbulent political times that we’re living in.”

“As I set up each one of the characters, they’re at a microphone singing and then they take the microphone and they step into the scene. I always want to remind the audience that we are in a concert, but we’re also telling the story,” says Trujillo. “Every single person understands the opportunity that we all have to take this monumental story, this monumental score, and to do it justice. So everyone is coming at it with such goodwill and so much joy.”

At a Saturday rehearsal in the church gym, Trujillo’s words ring true. The ensemble cast of more than 20 talented dancers and singers, in sweats and hoodies, run through “What’s the Buzz.” Gad watches and cheers from a table on the sidelines next to conductor and musical director Stephen Oremus, who smiles and nods his head with the beat.

“If you need me to stand in for Jesus, I’ll do it,” Gad jokes.

Phillipa Soo, who plays Mary Magdalene, sings a heartfelt rendition of “I Don’t Know How to Love Him.”

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

Lambert mesmerizes the assembled crew and onlookers with a potent rendition of “Heaven on Their Minds” and Soo brings tears with a heartfelt performance of “I Don’t Know How to Love Him.”

“The more time I spend with this musical, the more brilliant I understand it to be,” says Manheim during a brief break. The 24-year-old, who‘s gained a tween following after playing Zed in Disney Channel’s “Zombies” franchise, is part of the youth cohort Trujillo wanted to cast. He wasn’t as familiar with the score as the older cast members — which is part of the point.

“It’s cross-generational,” says Trujillo of the show. “This is the gift that you give to your children and then it just gets passed on.”

Diana Ross returned to the Hollywood Bowl on Friday night for the first of two weekend concerts — her fifth engagement at the hillside amphitheater since 2013 and her second gig in her adopted hometown of Los Angeles in less than a year (following her performance at last August’s old-school Fool in Love festival). In other words, it’s not exactly hard to catch the 81-year-old pop legend onstage these days — which isn’t to say that it’s not worth doing. Here are nine moments that made me glad I showed up Friday:

1. After coming out to — what else? — “I’m Coming Out,” Ross zipped through a frisky Motown medley linking some of the 12 No. 1 hits she and the Supremes scored in the 1960s. Would I have liked to have heard full versions of “You Can’t Hurry Love,” “Baby Love” and “Stop! In the Name of Love”? Sure. But hearing these all-timers stacked up in rapid succession was a thrill of its own — a reminder of the blend of efficiency and ingenuity attained on a daily basis at Hitsville, U.S.A.

2. Ross was backed by more than a dozen musicians at the Bowl, including four horn players and four backing vocalists, and they were cooking from the get-go: crisply propulsive in the Motown stuff; tight and gliding in “Upside Down”; lush yet down-home in Ross’ take on Billie Holiday’s “Don’t Explain,” from her 1972 Holiday biopic “Lady Sings the Blues.”

3. Two wardrobe changes meant that we beheld three glittering gowns in all, beginning with the fluffy canary-yellow number she emerged in. About halfway through the show, Ross slipped into a pipe-and-drape dressing room at the rear of the stage then slipped back out wearing bedazzled ruby red; later, she changed into a shimmering gold look. Each dress came accompanied by a matching shawl that Ross would eventually toss to the stage to be retrieved by a waiting assistant who seemed to know precisely when it would happen.

4. Each dress also came with a bulky mic pack that — in an endearingly peculiar costuming choice — Ross opted to wear on her waist instead of hiding it around back.

5. “I have an album out, a current album — the title of the album is called ‘Thank You,’” Ross told the crowd as she began to introduce a tune from her not-bad 2021 LP. Then she turned her head stage-left toward a sound engineer in the wings: “Who’s talking in the mic? I can hear a mic.” She returned to the audience. “Anyway, the title of the album is called ‘Thank You.’ Each song was specially written so that I could say ‘thank you’ to you for all the wonderful years, all the…” Another glance left. “Somebody’s talking in the microphone.” Another turn back. “We’re gonna start with this one — ‘Tomorrow,’ OK? We’ll start that if I can out-talk whoever’s talking over here.”

6. Ross’ daughter Rhonda joined her mom to sing another new-ish tune, “Count on Me” — “She’s been practicing,” Diana said proudly (if somewhat shadily) — then stuck around to do a mini-set of her own self-help-ish soul-folk songs, one of which beseeched us all to “stop gaslighting ourselves.”

7. Half a century after “The Wiz” debuted on Broadway in 1975, Ross sang her two big numbers from the Black retelling of the “The Wizard of Oz,” which she helped cement as a cultural landmark with her role as Dorothy in a fondly remembered movie adaptation. Here, “Home” was wistful yet determined, while “Ease on Down the Road” got even the high-rollers in the Bowl’s box seats moving.

8. During “Reach Out and Touch (Somebody’s Hand),” Ross led the crowd in a call-and-response recitation of what she called “my mantra”: ”I’m so grateful / For all the blessings in my life / For there are many / All is well / I’m resilient / Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

9. More of Ross’ children appeared onstage at the end of the show to join her for a rowdy “I Will Survive” — and to plug their latest commercial endeavors. “Can I say one thing?” Tracee Ellis Ross asked. “‘Solo Traveling with Tracee Ellis Ross’ on Roku streams today, so check out the show.” Diana Ross reclaimed the microphone and gestured toward her son Ross Naess. “This is my son — he’s doing a line of caviar called Arne Reserve.” She looked around. “Chudney, what’s happening with you?”

In a TikTok video captured by a fan at one of SiR’s sold-out L.A. shows last August, the Inglewood-born singer-songwriter breaks down into tears after his wife appears onstage behind him.

“Y’all give it up for my beautiful wife, Kelly Ann,” he says on the mic after collecting himself. When he leans to give her a kiss, the crowd erupts into a sea of “aws” and cheers.

It was a tender moment between the couple during the final stretch of his Life Is Good tour in support of “Heavy” — his most vulnerable project yet, which took five years to make and tackles his years-long battle with drug addiction, depression, infidelity and the process of getting sober. Behind the scenes, though, SiR was grappling with a different hardship: The death of his mother, Jackie Gouché, a talented performer who sang with Michael Jackson and Stevie Wonder, and helped build SiR’s confidence as an artist.

His team was “ready for me to just drop everything and come home,” says SiR over Zoom. “But I prayed about it. I talked to my family, and we made the decision for me to finish the tour out, in honor of her.”

So by the time he got to the Hollywood Palladium, where he performed back-to-back shows, he says, “I think I was drained and I needed my support, and my wife just so happened to be there, which was just perfect for me. I’ll never forget that night.”

Since that emotional performance, SiR, born Sir Darryl Farris, released an extended version of “Heavy,” subtitled “The Light,” in April, which features six new tracks, some of which are new, such as “Sin Again” and “No Good,” and others that didn’t make the cut on the original project.

The Grammy-nominated singer, who is signed to L.A. powerhouse label Top Dawg Entertainment alongside R&B darling SZA, is set to make his headlining debut at the Hollywood Bowl on July 20 for the KCRW Festival. The upcoming show will feature an opening set from singer-songwriter Leon Thomas, of whom SiR is a “huge fan,” along with two surprise appearances from, he says, the “best guests I could get.”

Ahead of the upcoming show, we caught up with the “John Redcorn” singer to discuss how he’s keeping his late mother‘s memory alive through his music, how becoming a father of two daughters has affected him both personally and artistically and his goal to make a classic record that everyone knows.

This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

You recently wrapped up your Step Into the Light tour a few weeks ago. How was it being onstage with your older brother, Davion, who sang background vocals, and your uncle Andrew, who is a gospel bass legend?

It was so fulfilling. I’ve worked with them before on so many different levels. My uncle plays on all my songs, and Davion and I write songs together, but to have them on the road with me was just a different outer-body experience. I think my favorite part of all of that was the time we spent [together] before and after the shows, like having dinners with my uncle and finding out things about my parents that I didn’t know. Finding out stories about my grandfather that I’d never heard. Now, our bond is that much stronger. It’s really nice to have him on the road. My uncle Andrew is awesome. I got sick of my brother. [laughs]

You were also on tour last year in support of “Heavy,” which is your most vulnerable project yet. How was it performing these songs this time around as opposed to last year? Did any songs hit differently?

We changed the set list just a tad because we had new music that we wanted to promote. The newer songs felt great. I was really specific about which ones I added because I wanted them to be songs that I enjoyed singing. The songs that I have in the set list that are staples still hit the same, and the audience still responds the same way. But it was surprising to see people singing the new music. I was fully prepared to go there and have to explain myself through these songs, but people were already vibing and singing along, which was great. My audience is great. I love my fans so much.

What songs did you add from the “Heavy Deluxe: The Light” project?

We added “No Good,” “Sin Again,” “Out of My Hands” and then, of course, “Step Into the Light,” which we added to the end of the set. But we also have songs like “John Redcorn” in there, which is a staple. If I don’t sing “John Redcorn,” people will come for my neck.

Last August, a fan posted a video of you crying during one of your shows at the Hollywood Palladium after you saw your wife, and the comment section was filled with sweet and supportive messages. Do you mind sharing what headspace you were in that night and why you felt so emotional in that moment?

That was the end of the tour, so I knew I was done, and in the middle of that tour, I actually lost my mom. At the time, I was on the phone with [TDE Chief Executive Anthony “Top” Tiffith], and he asked me if I wanted to continue. They were ready for me to just drop everything and come home. But I prayed about it, I talked to my family, and we made the decision for me to finish the tour out, in honor of her. My energy was just so low. I’ve never felt like that and had to go perform, and we had like eight more shows left. So by the time I got to the Palladium, I was drained. There’s a song that I sing called “Tryin’ My Hardest,” and I wrote that when I wasn’t sober and I was just trying to work myself through recovery. It was an ode to my mother and my wife, just telling them that I wasn’t giving up every time I relapsed. I [think] it was that song that she came out to. Half the time, tears were flowing down my face. So I think I was drained and I needed my support, and my wife just so happened to be there, which was just perfect for me. I’ll never forget that night. We sold out the Palladium twice.

You had a really close relationship with your mother, Jackie Gouche, who was a phenomenal artist in her own right. Have you written any songs in dedication to her since her passing?

I have a song that goes: (Starts singing lyrics)

Her name is Danielle, born in December but never felt the cold
Chocolate skin and a heart that’s made of gold
A certain resemblance to someone that I know
As bitter, as sweet
As easy as it was to sweep me off my feet
I never imagined that you may never meet
I wish you could be here to watch my baby grow
She’s gonna to do well
Her name is Danielle.

It’s just a song about my daughter that I wrote for her, and hopefully, I put it on the next project. Ooh. But we’ll see. My mother was such a big reason why I started really writing songs and wanting to be SiR. I was a different kind of guy growing up. I was very timid. I wasn’t sure about my musical abilities or gifts, and anytime I sent her songs, she would just light up and tell me how beautiful it was and give me advice, which was very important. After a while, I just kept impressing her and kept blowing her away in her own words. She was a huge part of my confidence.

“I should be able to have an album out every year,” SiR said. “I’m a studio rat so we should be able to find it. But my sobriety had to be at the forefront of everything, and I’m navigating being SiR sober.”

(Rolexx)

You’ve been vocal and vulnerable about your experience of dealing with addiction and all of the lifestyle changes you’ve made since becoming sober. Can you talk about what you’ve learned about yourself throughout this time?

I’ve learned that I have an addictive personality, no matter what the drug is, and I’ve created some good habits. The gym is now the biggest addiction that I have. I definitely had to just learn who I was looking at in the mirror, because when you’re inebriated, intoxicated all the time, you don’t really know what’s going on or who you are, and it’s a tough place to be. It’s a tough hole to dig yourself out of, but once you get out of that, you’ve got to navigate not falling back into the hole. It took about a year before I even got close to being sober. I’d have, like, sober weeks, and relapse after relapse and things like that. But at this point, I’m proud of where I am as a father, as a husband, and I’m trying to make sure that I just keep nourishing my artistry, because as much as I’m glad that that album came out, it took me five years to put that album out, and that shouldn’t happen. I always like to think of myself as a hyper-creative, and I should be able to have an album out every year. I’m a studio rat, so we should be able to find it. But my sobriety had to be at the forefront of everything, and I’m navigating being SiR sober. This is all new, and it’s definitely fun, but I definitely had to really work to get here.

Since releasing “Heavy,” you had another daughter, whom you talked about earlier, so now you’re a father of two. Can you talk about how fatherhood has affected you personally and creatively?

Fatherhood is like, ooh man, it’s a process. It taught me a lot about myself. I’m selfish. I’m impatient. I’m getting old. [laughs] My body doesn’t move and respond the same. When you have a 3-year-old who’s running as fast as she can and you’re trying to keep up with her, it’s tough. But it also just taught me a lot about how well I was raised. My parents were sweet. They were so nice and so kind and so gentle with us, and very protective, but in the best ways. If I’m half as good of a parent to my kids as my mother was to me, I think they’re going to be fine.

On Sunday, you are going to headline the Hollywood Bowl for the first time. How are you feeling about the show and what are you most excited about?

I can’t lie, I was excited about Leon Thomas’ set, but I realize now that I’m not going to be able to watch it, because I’m going to be doing my vocal warmups and getting ready for own thing. So now I’m just excited to see that sea of people. In L.A., I’ve done some really good shows, but it’s a 17,000-cap venue, and I think we’re doing good on ticket sales. This is the largest SiR audience that I’ve ever seen, so I’m excited to see the fans and hear them sing along.

Have you met Leon Thomas before?

We haven’t met, but I’m a huge fan. I don’t know if a lot of people [know], but Leon Thomas was a songwriter before he started putting music out on his own. Of course, everyone knows him from his acting days, but he was a part of a writing group that is based in L.A. and has been writing songs for other artists, so to see him come to the forefront of his own artistry is a beautiful thing. I think I’m on the waiting list for a Leon Thomas session. Collaborating is big right now with me, especially since things have changed and I don’t work as much as I used to on my own. I want to bounce ideas off of good artists, and I want to have great musicians in the room so we can make sure that everything is where it’s supposed to be in the song. We talked about it. I texted him [last] week just to thank him for being a part of this, and I wanted to congratulate him on all of his success. He’s a good guy, and I’m definitely a huge fan.

Why is collaboration so important for you now? What’s changed?

I want better songs. I’ve been around a long time. I got a lot of music out, but I have this thing in my head where I just want a classic. I feel like I have some really good records, but I want a song that everybody knows. As a songwriter, I think the most beautiful music comes from collaboration because you have people there to give you guidance in your own thought process. Even if I’m leading the way, I have somebody in my ear that’s navigating into this place we’re trying to get to. But I definitely just want to write better songs, and I’m not afraid to ask for help. I’ve had to learn that the hard way. I spent a lot of time over the years just kind of closed off in my box, which was great because it created my world, my sound. But now that I have established my sound, I should always be open to people helping me create in my world, especially if they know what my world is.

Have you started thinking about your next project yet?

I am definitely thinking about my next project. It does not have a name. We don’t have a date, but I am as busy as I can be right now, just with new songwriting and trying to stay ahead of it, because if I make you guys wait another five years for another project, I don’t think I’ma survive. I might have to go get me a day job. So I’m definitely working, but I’m not gonna rush. I’m not gonna force anything. I’m not just gonna put out anything. We need, you know, at least 40 to 45 minutes of just greatness, and I’m gonna do everything I can to deliver for the fans, because they deserve it more than anything.

For “Grease” fans in Los Angeles, recent summer nights had a surprise in store. We’ll tell you more, tell you more.

John Travolta, who brought life to bad boy heartthrob Danny Zuko in the 1978 classic, crashed the Hollywood Bowl’s sing-along event Friday. He surprised not just the audience, but also fellow “Grease” alumni as he sauntered on stage in his character’s signature pompadour and leather jacket.

“No one knew, not even the cast,” Travolta, 71, recalled of the moment in an Instagram post shared Saturday.

The “Pulp Fiction” and “Hairspray” star on Instagram shared a closer look at his Danny Zuko-inspired styling and posted a video of him reuniting with co-stars Didi Conn, Barry Pearl, Michael Tucci, Kelly Ward and “Grease” filmmaker Randal Kleiser. Video from the sing-along shows audiences cheering and celebrating Travolta with a standing ovation. His surprise appearance came before the beginning of the sing-along, according to Entertainment Weekly.

“L.A.,” he says to fans before referencing a memorable line from the movie. “I thought you were going back to Australia!”

In that scene from “Grease,” Danny excitedly greets his summer sweetheart Sandy, before quickly playing it too cool and aloof, saving face for his T-Birds greaser squad. Olivia Newton-John indelibly played the role of Sandy. She died on Aug. 8, 2022, at age 73.

During Friday’s event, Travolta and his co-stars led fans in singing “A-womp-bop-a-looma-a-womp-bam-boom,” a line from the “Grease” finale number “We Go Together,” according to video from EW. He and his cast then left the stage and the sing-along began.

“Thank you for a great evening,” Travolta added in his Instagram post.

Strumming a black acoustic guitar to match his black tuxedo pants and jacket, Hugh Jackman strolled onto the stage of the Hollywood Bowl and let the audience know precisely what it was in for.

“Little bit of Neil Diamond,” he said as the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra revved up the go-go self-improvement jive of “Crunchy Granola Suite.”

A dedicated student of showbiz history, the Australian singer and actor was starting his concert Saturday night just as Diamond did half a century ago at the Greek Theatre gig famously captured on his classic “Hot August Night” LP.

Yet Diamond was just one of the flamboyant showmen Jackman aspired to emulate as he headlined the opening night of the Bowl’s 2025 season. Later in the concert, the 56-year-old sang a medley of tunes by Peter Allen, the Australian songwriter and Manhattan bon vivant whom Jackman portrayed on Broadway in 2003 in “The Boy From Oz.” And then there was P.T. Barnum, whose career as a maker of spectacle inspired the 2017 blockbuster “The Greatest Showman,” which starred Jackman as Barnum and spawned a surprise-hit soundtrack that went quadruple-platinum.

“There’s 17,000 of you, and if any of you did not see ‘The Greatest Showman,’ you might be thinking right now: This guy is super-confident,” Jackman told the crowd, panting ever so slightly after he sang the movie’s title song, which has more than 625 million streams on Spotify.

The success of “Showman” notwithstanding, Jackman’s brand of stage-and-screen razzle-dazzle feels fairly rare in pop music these days among male performers. (The theater-kid moment that helped make “Wicked” a phenomenon was almost exclusively engineered — and has almost exclusively benefited — women such as Ariana Grande, Cynthia Erivo, Chappell Roan and Laufey.) What makes Jackman’s jazz-handing even more remarkable is that to many he’s best known as the extravagantly mutton-chopped Wolverine character from the Marvel movies.

Before Jackman’s performance on Saturday, the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, conducted by Thomas Wilkins, played a brief set of orchestral music that included selections from John Ottman’s score for “X2: X-Men United.”

The ascent of Benson Boone, with his mustache and his backflips, suggests that Jackman may yet find inheritors to carry on the tradition he himself was bequeathed by Diamond and the rest. But of course that assumes that Jackman is looking to pass the baton, which was not at all the impression you got from his spirited and athletic 90-minute show at the Bowl.

In addition to stuff from “The Greatest Showman” and a swinging tribute to Frank Sinatra, he did a second Diamond tune — “Sweet Caroline,” naturally, which he said figures into an upcoming movie in which he plays a Diamond impersonator — and a couple of Jean Valjean’s numbers from “Les Misérables,” which Jackman sang in the 2012 movie adaptation that earned him an Academy Award nomination for lead actor. (With an Emmy, a Grammy and two Tonys to his name, he’s an Oscar win away from EGOT status.)

Hugh Jackman with members of the L.A. Phil’s Youth Orchestra Los Angeles on Saturday night.

(Timothy Norris)

For “You Will Be Found,” from “Dear Evan Hansen,” he sat down behind a grand piano and accompanied himself for a bit; for the motor-mouthed “Ya Got Trouble,” from “The Music Man” — the first show he ever did as a high school kid, he pointed out — he came out into the crowd, weaving among the Bowl’s boxes and interacting with audience members as he sang.

“I just saw a lot of friends as I went through,” he said when he returned to the stage. “Hello, Melissa Etheridge and Linda. Hello, Jess Platt. Hi, Steph, hi, David, hi, Sophia, hi, Orlando — so many friends. Very difficult to say hello to friends and still do that dialogue.” He was panting again, this time more showily. “It’s like 53 degrees and I’m sweating.”

The show’s comedic centerpiece was a version of John Denver’s “Thank God I’m a Country Boy” that Jackman remade to celebrate his roots as an “Aussie boy.” There were good-natured jokes about shark attacks and koalas and Margot Robbie, as well as a few pointed political gibes, one about how “our leaders aren’t 100 years old” — “I’m moving on from that joke fast,” he added — and another that rhymed “Life down under is really quite fun” with “I never have to worry: Does that guy have a gun?”

The emotional centerpiece, meanwhile, was “Showman’s” “A Million Dreams,” for which the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra was joined by 18 members of the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s Youth Orchestra Los Angeles. The song itself is pretty cringe, with a lyric bogged down by cliches and a melody you’ve heard a zillion times before. But Jackman sold its corny idealism with a huckster’s sincerity you couldn’t help but buy.

Ricky Gervais is living his best life right now. Even when he’s busy talking about death. On Saturday his new tour, Mortality, arrives at the Hollywood Bowl, where thousands will hear him tackle hilariously macabre commentary about life — and the end of it — through his signature blend of dark humor, empathy and razor-sharp commentary. His last appearance at the Bowl in 2023 with Armageddon earned him a Guinness World Record for the highest-grossing single stand-up performance — so, no pressure.

Gervais is also known for turning awkward pauses and brutal honesty into comedy gold, so it’s only fitting that after such a long career full of accolades that he would also finally earn a coveted spot on the Hollywood Walk of Fame on Friday. As Hollywood honors the man who’s roasted its elite with such precision, to be roasted for eternity by the Hollywood sun sounds fitting.

It’s not all about receiving: Giving back matters to Gervais and he’s doing that by helping spotlight the next wave of comedic talent through the Spirit of Comedy — a U.K. stand-up contest presented by Dutch Barn Vodka, which he happens to co-own. With a star on the Walk of Fame, a massive show at the Bowl, and a platform for rising comics, Gervais is fully owning his Hollywood moment. But he needs to be home by 6 p.m.

You’ve spent your career pushing comedy boundaries, has there ever been a moment where you thought, “Oh yeah, I’m going to have to defend this one?”

Oh no, it all comes and goes. It’s cyclic. People get nervous and that’s just always been there from day one. People get worried and then I say, well, this is why it’s OK. Sometimes it’s an executive producer or a broadcaster who just wants some ammunition to defend it. Because sometimes, they don’t know whether it’s OK or not, they just don’t want to get complaints. If I can go “listen, this is why it’s OK,” then they often trust me because I can defend it. It’s not me sitting in the room going, “what’s the most offensive thing I could say to get the BBC burned down?” There’s always a point to it. Offense often comes from people mistaking the subject of a joke with the actual target, and they’re not usually the same.

It sometimes feels like comedians, whose job it is to joke, are being held to a higher standard when it comes to what is “offensive.”

We’re human, so we react to buzzwords and we’re cautious of taboo subjects. That’s why they’re still taboo, because we’re cautious of them. I do that on purpose as well, particularly with my stand-up where I talk about contentious issues and taboo subjects because I do want to take the audience to a place they haven’t been before. I do want them to reflect on it, worry about it, think about it and then, I’ve got to misdirect them. It’s like I take them by the hand through a scary forest but it’s OK because they always laugh. If I were going out there and saying things that were really offensive, and no one was laughing, well, that would be odd. That’s what politicians do. Politicians say awful things and they mean it, and no one laughs. Comedians say things they don’t mean, everyone laughs and they get the same treatment.

But you have to have free speech, and there’s nothing you could say that someone somewhere won’t be offended by. It’s impossible so you shouldn’t even try. I don’t go out there and try to ruin the audience’s evening, I go out there and I make a joke and it’s crafted. We’re human though and we take things personally, but you shouldn’t because I think comedy is best as an intellectual pursuit.

“Comedy is best as an intellectual pursuit” sums you up because you’re not careless. There’s a formula to it all.

Exactly. You should go “well, that’s a bad subject and I don’t agree with the punchline, but does it work comedically?” It’s a magic trick. It is a formula. You can’t argue with chemistry. No one goes, well, I know I laughed, but I don’t agree with it. Well, it did what it does. That’s the joke and I’m not gonna change the joke or meaning. I think the only form of censorship, as an audience, is your right not to listen. You just don’t have to watch. You can leave, not buy my stuff, not buy my tickets, and that’s absolutely fine.

You can turn your own TV off, but what you can’t do is make other people turn their TV off. That’s the difference. And then, people will complain about something you’re doing in the privacy of your own home, even if they have to go up to their attic and stand on a stepladder and look through binoculars to see it. They will find it. People sometimes seek out the offense and that’s actually where people can get addicted to being offended. They like it, it makes them feel alive. The news even picks up Twitter! They say, “Oh, fans weren’t happy!” Three fans weren’t happy.

“I don’t go out there and try to ruin the audience’s evening, I go out there and I make a joke and it’s crafted,” Gervais said. “We’re human though and we take things personally, but you shouldn’t because I think comedy is best as an intellectual pursuit.”

(Andy Hollingworth)

Tweets making headlines is why we can’t have nice things. I wanted to ask about the Spirit of Comedy contest, where the winner gets to open for you at OVO Arena Wembley. How did all of this happen?

I know, it’s mad! I’ve never done anything like this before and I’ve turned down loads of things, but this co-ownership with [the show’s sponsor] Dutch Barn Vodka is different. When we met, we first bonded about the company being really ethical. It was sustainable, it was recyclable, they used British apples, they were vegan, they paid their workers really well—they were really trying to be good, and I like that. They said they wanted me to make it famous, make it a global brand, and that I could do the advertising, which really interested me. I do all of my own trailers, I write all my own stuff, so that was exciting creatively. What a great nut to crack.

The business side of it sort of came last, but it all made sense too. The main thing about it was I felt I could sleep at night, and I could still have fun. That’s all I really cared about. The contest was actually all Dutch Barn’s idea and when they were asked about the contest they said something like, “Well, we know Ricky’s not going to last forever.” Maybe they’re finding my replacement? How cruel and ironic would that be?

Well, at least you can go down knowing you broke a record at the Hollywood Bowl.

Yes! It was two years ago, and I just put out a tweet because it broke the record for a single gig. I don’t know why I’m doing it again. I did it once, it was frightening, I broke the world record and it was great. Why would I do it again?

Ricky Gervais speaks at the 77th Golden Globe Awards on Jan. 5, 2020, at the Beverly Hilton Hotel in Beverly Hills.

(Associated Press)

Because we love you in L.A. and it’s been too long. That’s why.

I haven’t been avoiding it, it’s just a long way so I try to do as much as I can while I’m there. I sort of work out of London now and also, it gets harder with jet lag. I’m 63! Jet lag lasts about a week now! Everything is worse, isn’t it? I’m offered really cool things every day, flying around the world and I just think, is it better than me sitting on the couch with my cat and my girlfriend watching Netflix? No. It has nothing to do with anything else other than how valuable your time is and how you wanna spend it.

Is that why you named your tour “Mortality”? Are you planning?

Sort of. There’s a joke in there where I sort of talk about getting old, looking back and all the things that are going wrong which are funny. The reason I started doing one word, sort of academic-style titles, was that I was sarcastically making fun of the pomposity of some comedians who think they’re doing lectures. That’s where it started when I was pricking that bubble of comedians who think they’re changing the world. I’ve kept up the one-word thing, but also, mortality, it’s a scary subject so already the audience is going, is Mortality gonna be funny? Yeah, it’s funny! I’m the one dying. Sit back and laugh.

From sitting to kneeling, it’s fitting — and a bit ironic — that someone who roasted Hollywood so memorably is now being cemented into its history with a star on the Walk of Fame.

Well, that’s funny because the first time they told me I got it I said, “Oh? Do I have to get down on all fours on the concrete? I’ll never get up! I’ve also got bad skin!” I had all of those thoughts, but I’m doing it the day before the Hollywood Bowl so I can kill two birds with one stone. It’s all about getting home on the couch by 6 p.m. This life, you know what I mean?

You started kind of late, but you did earn this comfortable life. And maybe 6 p.m. is the new midnight.

When I grew up, I was good at school, I went to college, then I was a failed pop star, and I never had money. Really, I never had any money. I think I was about 37 years old when I started doing this, and I just grabbed a hold of it. I thought, this is a really lucky second bite of the cherry. You better not screw this one up. So, I did work really hard, but in saying that, what does this sound like? “I work really hard in a room writing while drinking cappuccino.” Some people are hiding behind a wall getting shot at! My dad was a laborer for 60 years! It’s funny to say that, because now, I’m glad I was born poor. It’s not something that I talk about much, but I am sort of proud of myself. I didn’t have a penny, and no one gave me anything. It might be luck, but I still feel like I beat the system.

For the second time in less than a year, Willie Nelson and Bob Dylan played the Hollywood Bowl on Friday night, bringing together two legends of American song on one stage. The concert — actually Nelson’s third recent visit to the Bowl after his 90th-birthday bash in 2023 — was part of the annual traveling Outlaw Music Festival, which will keep Nelson, now 92, and Dylan, who’ll turn 84 next week, on the road through mid-September. Here are nine highlights from the show:

1. Last year’s Outlaw tour stopped at the Bowl in late July, which at that time meant Nelson didn’t have to ward off the chilly May gray that inevitably settles after dark over the Cahuenga Pass. Here, a day after reportedly suffering from a cold in Chula Vista, Nelson kept warm in a stylish black puffer jacket to go with his signature red bandanna.

2. John Stamos played percussion in Nelson’s six-man band Friday — a somewhat lower-key role than the prominent guitar-and-vocals spot he often holds down these days in Mike Love’s touring Beach Boys. Yet the TV star looked pleased as punch to be back there, shaking a shaker as Nelson opened his set, as always, with “Whiskey River.” Also on hand, filling in for Nelson’s son Lukas was singer-guitarist Waylon Payne, who sang lead in a moving version of Kris Kristofferson’s “Help Me Make It Through the Night” — the folk-soul masterpiece made a hit in 1970 by Payne’s mother, the late Sammi Smith.

3. My favorite of Nelson’s styles to hear him do at this point in his career, with a voice and a soloing hand as free as they’ve ever been, is the spectral country-jazz mode of “Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground” and “Always on My Mind,” which gave him a pair of No. 1 country hits between March 1981 and May 1982. On Friday, he nailed high notes you might not have expected him to in the former and used the latter to show off the rhythmic daring of his line readings. Both were achingly beautiful.

4. Nelson didn’t perform anything from his latest album, “Oh What a Beautiful World,” which came out last month and collects his interpretations of a dozen Rodney Crowell tunes. (By some counts, it’s Nelson’s 77th solo studio LP — and the 15th he’s dropped since 2015.) He did, however, do a cut from his second-most-recent effort: a stately rendition of Tom Waits’ “Last Leaf,” in which he rhymes “They say I got staying power” with “I’ve been here since Eisenhower.” In fact, Nelson’s been here since FDR.

5. The big event in Dylanology between last year’s Outlaw tour and this year’s was, of course, James Mangold’s Oscar-nominated biopic, “A Complete Unknown,” which inspired a widespread resurgence of interest in Dylan’s music — particularly the early stuff Timothée Chalamet performs in the movie. Perhaps that’s why Dylan is singing “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” on the road again for the first time in six years, including at the Bowl, where he gave the song a jaunty rockabilly vibe. (Anyone wondering why Chalamet wasn’t at Friday’s gig clearly hasn’t seen the TikToks of him wilding out after his beloved Knicks defeated the Celtics at New York’s Madison Square Garden.)

6. A rare-ish bit of stage banter from His Bobness, directed toward an audience member near the front row: “What are you eating down there? What is it?”

7. The whole point of going to see Dylan play is to be delighted — or to be outraged, or baffled — by his determination to reinvent songs so deeply etched into the history of rock music. Yet I was still thrilled by how radically he made over some of his classics here: “Desolation Row” was bright and frisky, while a sultry “All Along the Watchtower” sounded like Dire Straits doing ’80s R&B.

8. In addition to Nelson and Dylan, Outlaw’s West Coast leg also features two younger roots-music acts in Billy Strings and Sierra Hull. (Later in the summer, the tour will pick up the likes of Nathaniel Rateliff, Sheryl Crow, Waxahatchee and Wilco, depending on the city.) Strings, who’s been bringing bluegrass to arenas lately — and whose tattooed arms meshed seamlessly with the sleeves of his tie-dyed T-shirt — sang “California Sober,” which he recorded in 2023 as a duet with Nelson, and offered a haunting take on “Summertime” from “Porgy and Bess.”

9. A former child prodigy on the mandolin, Hull opened the evening flexing her Berklee-trained chops in a series of lickety-split bluegrass numbers that got early arrivers whistling with approval. But she also showed off a winsome pop sensibility in originals like “Muddy Water” and “Spitfire” — about “my spitfire granny back in Tennessee,” she said — and in a yearning cover of “Mad World” by Tears for Fears.