John Williams LIVE at the Hollywood Bowl

“I don’t recognize any of the first selections,” Tony said, holding up his program with concern. “Aren’t I supposed to know these songs?”

Will laughed, waving down the bulletin. “You have to understand that the first act isn’t for us – it’s for John Williams. He’ll play everything you’re hoping for after intermission.”

They were lounging comfortably in the center of the Hollywood Bowl, chatting idly while watching the stage for signs of life. Their group represented just seven of the eight thousand people crowded into the facility, all eating and drinking various goodies and suffused with high spirits in the anticipation of something amazing.

Before long, the lighting and the stage flared to life, illuminating the LA Philharmonic as they readied their instruments. Twin spotlights swirled as the roaring crowd rose to their feet.

It’s not often one gets to see an elderly man wearing a white tuxedo get welcomed onto a stage by the thunderous applause of nearly ten thousand admiring fans, but that’s exactly what happened. John Williams smiled nervously, thanking the crowd with hand gestures which soothed and silenced his audience, and turned his attention to the orchestra assembled before him.

The Star Spangled Banner permeated the air before most people realized the concert had started. This transitioned into a fantastic medley featuring bits of memorable music from a dozen famous films. As he eased into the first act, which was dedicated to Westerns, the audience settled into their seats to enjoy the show.

The selection of music was beautiful, with many themes reminiscent of his more famous pieces. If you’ve watched more than one of his films, you already know what John Williams thinks love, regret, betrayal, passion, and danger sound like. Despite having never heard these songs before, the mind still recognized those emotions as if having heard them a hundred times before.

When the time came for the end of the first act, John Williams lifted a microphone to address the crowd.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said, smoothing his tidy white beard with a free hand. “You all know I’m a writer of music, and I wanted to talk for a minute about other writers. I love American literature, and perhaps my favorite author is a man who is in the tradition of Mark Twain and others: William Faulkner. His work lends itself well to music, and I’ve set his last story to a something I feel is appropriate.”

He paused here, clearing his throat and motioning vaguely with his free hand toward the stage.

“Now, I can’t very well conduct and read at the same time, so I had to enlist the aid of a friend. Please welcome to stage a talented singer/songwriter in his own right, a true musical master, and my very dear friend, James Taylor.”

No sooner had the man stepped foot on the stage, walking toward John Williams with a larger than life smile, than the crowd sprang to their feet with applause.

“Thank you,” he said into his microphone. “What I’ve got here is The Reivers, the last novel Faulkner ever published. You’ll love it.”

They told the story together, James and John, fusing words with music in a cacophony of sound and emotion. No portion was too overstated, nor any phrase under-emphasized. It was a patently ridiculous tale which painted the picture of a world where cars were rare and blood ran deeper than water, and while much has changed since those days, the problems faced then aren’t too far removed from the problems of today.

As the story ended and the final notes of music faded away, John Williams took the microphone once more and smiled brightly.

“Thank you, James,” he beamed, turning toward him. “Now…I know you weren’t planning to sing today…”

The crowd swelled as James Taylor blushed, raising his own microphone. “It’s probably the only thing I have any business doing, John.”

“Did you bring your guitar?”

James Taylor nodded and headed off to fetch it while John Williams turned back to the crowd, still grinning with boyish glee.

“Y’know, I told him if he should fail to bring a guitar tonight, the LA Philharmonic would be pleased to provide one.”

James Taylor returned and played a single song (Sweet Baby James), much to the delight of the still-stunned audience. Afterward, John Williams and James Taylor both bowed and headed off stage as the intermission began.

A bottle of wine and a bag of pretzels later, the lights dimmed once more for the second half of the show.

John Williams kicked things off by showing a clip of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade with the music removed. As the clip progressed, he talked about what feelings ought to be conveyed and how to translate that into music. He played the clip a second time, leading the orchestra to provide the missing music. The transformation was astonishing, perfectly illustrating the impact of including an appropriate accompaniment.

The evening concluded, as all knew it would, with his greatest hits, played one after another in rapid succession. Harry Potter. Jaws. ET. Indiana Jones. Star Wars.

You have not seen enthused until you’ve seen the reaction Star Wars music gets at a John Williams concert. The cheering and shouting as the theme blared into existence was incredible, as was how quickly this transitioned into a respectful silence for the duration of the piece. But the most striking moment of the evening came during the first encore, when he directed The Imperial March.

Even if you don’t know a Star Destroyer from a Tauntaun, you’ve heard this song.

On the very first beat, several thousand lightsabers sprang to life as various members of the crowd produced the weapons and flicked them on. They then proceeded to shake them in time with the beat, slicing through the air in a coordinated motion that left those of us who missed the memo speechless.

“So many Jedi,” Ivan breathed. “I’m so happy.”

Aaron laughed. “Bringing one of your own next time?”

“Nah,” he replied, clapping along with the rest as John Williams took a final bow. “But do you see why we come every year?”

Aaron paused for a moment, gathering the last of the pretzels as the crowd began to file toward the exits. Everyone was humming or whistling scattered fragments of music.

“Yeah,” he replied, grinning at their assembled group. “That was totally worth doing.”