Leon Bridges is no stranger to the feel-good track. Known for his nostalgia-wrapped, Motown-meets-modern sound, the singer has carefully tended to the lane he has carved for himself in the industry. Having spent the better part of my young adult years adoring his music, I was elated to hear he’d be playing the Hollywood Bowl.
The Thursday evening show marked the debut of The Crooner & The Cowboy Tour—a joint tour with Bridges himself alongside longtime friend and fellow Texan, Charley Crockett. Despite being a claustrophobe’s worst nightmare, the Hollywood Bowl remains my favorite venue in Los Angeles. The open air, outstanding acoustics, and breathtaking outlook of the Hollywood Hills make for the perfect backdrop to a captivating act such as Bridges.
After fearfully navigating through the congested entrance, I made my way to the marketplace to grab a beverage. As a frequent patron of the Bowl, I’ve grown accustomed to their egregious concession prices, and surprisingly managed not to wince at the $26 drink I settled on, despite acknowledging that it likely costs $4 in the outside world. I then frantically rushed to find my seat, a feat that never gets easier at the 17,500-seat amphitheater.
Bridges began his set with a bone-chilling performance of “When a Man Cries,” the opening track on his 2024 eponymous album, Leon. Following suit with the song title, I fought back tears as he began the chorus, cognizant of the fact that I was about to witness a show I’d likely never forget. With rich percussion, charming keys, and a slew of velvety strings, Bridges’ 7-part band provided arrangements I’m sure the birds residing in the hills surrounding us appreciated. All members sported matching Canadian tuxedos—a memo I wish I’d received—and appeared to be having as much fun on stage as I was in my seat.
“I hope you leave here feeling full tonight. I hope you leave here feeling inspired,” Bridges said as he greeted the audience. And that I did. It may have been a chilly evening, but the warmth of the music enveloped the crowd in a way that rendered the temperature inconsequential. As he moved through his set, which consisted largely of tracks from his most recent album as well as some older favorites, I couldn’t help but notice the lack of dancing taking place among the attendees in my section. As someone who was unable to sit still through a single song—including the tear-jerkers—I was astonished. Before rushing to judgment, I came to the realization that for some, a concert like this could be likened to a glass of wine—meant to be enjoyed at ease.
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When fan-favorites “Mariella” and “Texas Sun” arrived, an energy shift took place amongst not only the crowd but Bridges himself—who broke into a two-step during the latter, igniting hollers from the audience. The artist sustained this momentum, following with a string of more upbeat songs from his discography, and radiated a sense of utter freedom on stage. This portion of the setlist scratched a dormant itch I’ve unknowingly held since I first discovered his music in high school, and reaffirmed the timelessness of his sound.
Slightly switching gears, the artist then generously shared an unreleased song he’d written a decade ago. Poetic, I thought, to hold on to something so great for so long and allow it to age with grace. Keeping with this tone, he transitioned into a hushed performance of “Can’t Have It All”—a tender lullaby that may have worked had it not been for the espresso I’d consumed earlier in the day—and followed with equally mesmerizing “God Loves Everyone” and “Peaceful Place.” The pianist noticeably led these tracks with sweet, somber intros, silencing the entire audience each time—no small feat in a venue of this caliber, but it felt almost sacrilegious to cause even the slightest disturbance.
After a false closer—which prompted some to leave, but not a wishful thinker like myself—Bridges returned to the stage with a touching, stripped-down rendition of “Lisa Sawyer,” a song written about his mother who was present in the audience. This prompted my third and final cry of the evening—a cry cut short by his tasteful, crowd-uniting final performance of “Beyond,” which brought the entire theatre to their feet. Whether it was his hypnotic, honey-like voice or his transportive lyricism, Bridges managed to carry his audience elsewhere—perhaps to a southern porch on a summer evening.
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After filing out of the theatre, I made a beeline for the restroom—a need I’d been resisting since midway through the set, unwilling to miss even a second of it. The line for the women’s room was absurdly long, but made bearable by the sound of several humming their favorite songs of the evening—myself included. All in all, I think it’s safe to say the show struck a chord with many.
To listen to Leon Bridges is to opt for warmth and nourishment. And in times like these, that might be all we truly need.
Words: Tamara Jiji
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