I became a Fanilow on July 4, 2012. I know what you’re going to say.  How can I possibly be a Barry Manilow fan?   My response: ”Tame thy tongues!”   The July 4th concert at the Hollywood Bowl was chock full of L.A.’s finest mixed nuts and everyone, regardless of age, just loved Barry.

My mom, who for years has immersed my brothers and me in 70’s pop, had been looking forward to this forever.  We knew that Barry “writes the songs that make the whole world sing…”  and that “Lola, she was a showgirl.” But what we didn’t know was just how much fun the whole experience would be.  Finally, the night rolled around.

We arrived half an hour before the concert was to begin.  For any other venue, 30 minutes would be plenty of time to settle in, but the Hollywood Bowl is not a typical venue. Tucked into the Hollywood Hills at the intersection of various highways to and from the Valley, the Bowl embodies one of L.A.‘s quintessential qualities: difficult but worth it.

Parking is a headache.  Not only can’t you find a parking spot, but when you finally do find one you are basically agreeing to wait around for a long time afterwards – in this case, for drunken Fanilows to conga their way down to the lot when they’re good and ready so that they can move their cars, so that you can move your car, so that you and the people behind your car can go home.  Insert eye-roll here, because this is L.A. at its iconic best.

Gradually we made the trek up to our seats. I noticed people enjoying picnic dinners and wondered why we didn’t pack one.  I didn’t bother asking because I knew that a picnic at the Bowl on the Fourth of July is pretty much an affront to my grandparents. You’d understand if you met them; suffice to say anything that involves eating only a small amount of food is an insult. Working our way up to our seats, we nabbed some light sticks that the ushers were handing out.

Since my family never pays more $50 for seats, we found ourselves at a far distance from the stage. High up on the crowded benches, we were far enough so that we were far enough so that we barely had a chance to worry whether Barry’s tightly stretched skin would tear the moment his mouth opened, unpinning his numerous plastic surgeries.But I am getting ahead of myself, because before Barry came onstage, I had to endure the Los Angeles Philharmonic.  I must apologize to my readers, but since I am not a fan of music played by any philharmonic, I paid zero attention to the music during the first half of the program. What I can say about it is that at least it didn’t grate on my nerves.

But then came intermission, and the anticipation from everyone waiting to hear Manilow at the Bowl was palpable. People were chatting, enjoying ice cold beers, and of course singing their own versions of Manilow standards.  The sun was just setting and in general the atmosphere was pure fun.   And then, it just happened.  Dancers came out and a group of new musicians started playing “Copacabana” – the Philharmonic was gone.  The audience was in a frenzy.  Before I knew it, Barry danced his way onto the stage and the crowd went wild and stayed that way for the entire concert.

Don’t ask me what Barry did to make the audience go gaga.  In fact, he seemed perplexed by this as well. Taking a break in the middle one of his famous hits — “Even Now” — he asked, “Still?  I’ve still got it?” The wild response apparently meant he’s still got it.

His voice was as smooth in concert as it is on his recordings.  Somehow three decades hasn’t affected Barry Manilow’s voice, or his moves, or his love for entertaining.  Perhaps what was most charming about him was the fact that he seemed so grateful to still be able, at 69, to pack a full house. Ever the professional, he filled the evening with the hits the crowd wanted to hear: “Mandy,”  “Looks Like We Made It,”  “Even Now,” and “I Can’t Smile Without You.”

Never would I have imagined that my cousins, my brothers and me would spend a long summer evening together outdoors, in the middle of Los Angeles near the intersection of three freeways, without having eaten, singing happily along with Barry Manilow.  And I am sure that somehow Barry knew that the star-spangled night, spent with family and Fanilows, would stay in our hearts and souls forever.