![]() ![]() Young will upscale the tour a bit, once he finishes the four opening dates at the Ford (formerly known as the John Anson Ford Amphitheatre and, before that, the Pilgrimage, in the 1920s through ’70s). We will know Louis Tomlinson has really made it if someday he sells out a tour on the promise of “the non-hits, nothin’ but the non-hits.” And then, finally, you had the whole gambit of this tour, in which Young made it clear in an online chat before tickets went on sale that this brief west coast solo run would have a setlist mostly of songs he’d rarely or never played in concert before. Then there was the subject matter, with Young favoring material that at least touches on the passing of time or feeling a touch of alienation from other generations or one’s own. It was cross-canyon Opposite Day in nearly every regard, starting with a small audience that sat mostly in rapt silence (aside from the yahoo prone to shouting “Keep goin’, Neil!,” as if Young’s laconic stage presence suggested someone in need of a pep talk). If anything, maybe the fleeting ambient sounds served a small purpose in setting up a not-so-ironic contrast with what was happening here on the other side of the tracks, as it were. ![]() ![]() These occasional faint outbursts weren’t too bothersome, truth be told, and did not go a very long way toward interrupting the magic unfolding inside the Bowl’s much tinier, 103-year-old cousin. ![]()
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