What a perfect night. Perfect weather. Cruising around L.A. loving the palm trees. The ribbon of asphalt under my tires. And a show at at the Hollywood Bowl, where you can look to the right and see the Griffith Observatory, look up to see the Hollywood sign, and look downward to see a gorgeous orchestra playing.

The annual Tchaikovsky show with fireworks is always a load of fun, but this year it was an extra privilege to get to hear Mihaela Ursuleasa play the Piano Concerto No.1. Her combination of playfulness and athleticism created the finest performance of that song I’ve ever heard. She came onto the stage with a physique that made me think more of a swimmer or tennis player than a pianist, and the nice slinky backless top she wore showed off rippling lats and buffed out arms. The performance was truly dazzling. Talk about a chick I’d like to have a conversation with!

It’s impossible to get sick of how the Bowl plays the 1812 Overture. Because they do it L.A. style. Somehow I think Tchaikovsky must have really been a Californian because homeboy wrote cannons into the percussion line. And when we play world class music in L.A., we don’t just perform it at a venue so perfect it was sculpted by Nature herself. We play world class music, light the frakkin’ roof on fire and blow stuff up. Yes, that’s right. Real cannons, fireworks, and just because you can never get enough brass, we throw in the Greatest Marching Band in the History of the Universe.

Have I mentioned I miss this town?