A Nirvana Reunion, Lady Gaga, Billie Eilish and More

There were moments during Thursday night’s epic FireAid concert/webcast that got off-point from the otherwise prevalent “We love L.A.” theme. Even several states’ worth of off-point. Like, for instance, the roughly 15-minute segment where everyone was thinking about Seattle instead, because the surviving members of Nirvana got back together to do a four-song mini-set, fronted by a succession of female lead singers — “Girl-vana,” some called it. Now, at this ecstatic point, were we all willing to think of Aberdeen, Washington as a distant greater-L.A. suburb, just for the sake of getting some “Territorial Pissing”? Yes, we were.

But for the most part, there was some adherence to the idea that this was spiritually a local event, even as an appeal was being made to the rest of the country to feel the pain of affected Southern Californians and generously give. That meant keeping the 27-artist bill mostly to artists that had some kind of known connection to the area. Or at least the general rule seemed to be that you just couldn’t be too… easterly. (Manager-producer Irving Azoff, the driving force behind the show, told Hits magazine that he turned down his client Jon Bon Jovi’s offer to get on a plane and play: “I said, Jon, when New Jersey burns down, by all means. But for now, stay home.”) The idea was to spotlight those who have somehow represented the dream of L.A. in the wider culture, even as it also highlighted average Joes and Janes who lost everything but their lives. In the wake of tragedy, the show’s pitch effectively said, we are all Angelenos now… in flaming sickness as in pop-cultural health.

Azoff’s beloved Eagles were unavailable to perform, and the scattered remnants of the Beach Boys were nowhere in sight, but apart from those obvious vintage touchstones, the different scenes that L.A. has exported to the world got some solid representation. The ‘60s and ‘70s Laurel Canyon-based scenes got their moments, first with a one-song spot by the bethroned Joni Mitchell, doing “Both Sides Now” with an assist from Blake Mills. (Is it ironic that L.A., with its golden haze, usually has fewer distinct clouds to look at than any other part of the country?) Graham Nash and Stephen Stills reunited for “Teach Your Children,” hooking up with the band Dawes — Goldsmith, Stills and Nash as a newly modified, cross-generational supergroup.

The Intuit Dome and Kia Forum lineups were also filled with artists who would have been children when Mitchell and CSN were first plying their trade, and now are in the teaching position, pushing the upper end of middle age — namely, the Red Hot Chili Peppers and No Doubt, both of whom seemed as frenetic and dynamic as they ever did in their respective ‘80s and ‘90s salad days. The appeal of No Doubt’s second reunion set in a year wasn’t much blunted by the fact that the novelty factor abated after their comeback at last spring’s Coachella. “Spider Web” packs a wonderful punch, no matter how much younger audiences may puzzle over lyrics that suggest there was ever a time when the whole world didn’t screen its phone cals. Gwen Stefani was impossibly toned, and Flea was in a Speedo, so the watching could rest assured that L.A. truly does have a claim on the fountain of youth, or the nation’s finest trainers.

Hip-hop did not have a huge presence at Thursday’s dual shows, and when it did, it didn’t always bring down the house, as Lil Baby didn’t seem to do much at the Intuit Dome for an audience that might have mostly been at that location to see the pop stars Lady Gaga, Olivia Rodrigo and Gracie Abrams. But it informed what might have been the most spontaneously explosive moment at either locale — early on, at the Forum, when Dr. Dre made a surprise appearance during an already peak-form blowout set by Anderson Paak and the Free Nationals. Sheila E. did an even more extended cameo during that segment, doing a percussion duet with Paak as he sat at the drum kit. If there were 10 minutes of the entire night that you could bottle up and imbibe at will in the days and months to come, it’d have to be that blissful Paak/Dre/Sheila triumvirate.

And when it comes to modern successors to these L.A. traditions, no homegrown talent fits the bill more than Billie Eilish, who at this point, in tandem with Finneas, has earned a spot in a lineage that stretches back to the Doors, Buffalo Springfield and Joni, even if she is perhaps the first to make the masses dream about Highland Park instead of Malibu or Laurel Canyon. The siblings made their appearance at Intuit after midnight (and after 3 a.m. ET), not to wake up sleepy viewers but to offer them a lullaby with a three-song acoustic set. The stripped-down “Birds of a Feather,” which may be about to win record and/or song of the year at the Grammys, was worth the wait for those who wanted to hear a modern classic amid all the classic rock, though it was Eilish’s reading of a deeper recent cut, “The Greatest,” that again proves she lives up, unironically, to that that song’s ironic title.

Eilish also gets some kind of MVP title for having shown up more than five hours earlier, during the opening number of the entire night, Green Day’s “Last Night on Earth,” for a doube-Billie combo — and at the other venue, the Forum, besides. Nothing speaks to being a true Angeleno like being willing to take a shuttle for art.

Pink, meanwhile, gets the trophy for being the only figure of the night willing to say anything that might upset a single viewer, in these peak days of political “shock and awe” (as a Trump compatriot has described the incoming administration’s eagerness to blow stuff up). Clearly, the brief — surely implicitly understood by the artists, if not necessarily a direct order — was to not alienate potential donors by making any divisive statements, least of all a Kanye-style “the president doesn’t care about…” statement. That self-muffling was predictable and maybe even warranted, in light of the larger cause. Still, if you love rock’s rogue spirit at all, it was a slight thrill when Pink went rogue and introduced John Mayer by saying, “Ladies and gentlemen and every other gender that absolutely exists…” She also made her statement by performing an acoustic rendition of her best song, “What About Us,” a Bush-era protest song that hardly feels any less relevant now, although the average viewer wouldn’t have recognized it as such.

Some performers tailored their material to the themes of the night, and some just did a three- or four-song greatest-hits set. No Doubt, for instance, was not about to dig deep into the catalog to find a desultory ballad to replace “Just a Girl.” And Earth, Wind & Fire… well, the group’s name alone seemed to be an accidental nod to current circumstances, and that was clearly as topical as it was going to get. Others on the bill had the good fortune to have a genuine hit or two in their repertoire that also genuinely felt like it had some kind of application for the city’s traumatized/healing mood.

Alanis Morissette’s “Thank U,” which skirts the line between sadness and resiience, was a standout in that mode: How about unabashedly bawling your eyes out — right? Mayer (who went it solo, after Dave Matthews had to drop out of a planned duet performance) chose Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” as a cover, saying it spoke to him as a child as a dream of what SoCal could be… but the “fallin’” makes it an oddly melancholy dream. John Fogerty joined the Black Crowes for “Have You Ever Seen the Rain,” and rain made an apt metaphor for fire, in this instance.

Sting didn’t speak up before or during his three-song set — maybe because of the show running late, maybe because he thought the songs spoke for themseles — but “Message in a Bottle,” “Driven to Tears” and “Fragile” implicitly spoke to forelornness and mortality… however much they turn up in his nightly set anyway. Jelly Roll’s damage-confessing “I Am Not Okay” will always be apropos for any slightly solemn event the country star should ever choose to bring it to… but bless him for also dredging up Bob Seger’s “Hollywood Nights,” and inviting Travis Barker to come drum on it with him, his tom-toms way up firm and high.

And Dawes’ “Time Spent in Los Angeles” could have been the theme song of the night, even if it was probably easily overlooked by most of a viewing audience that doesn’t necessarily know the group, much less the song. “You got that special kind of sadness / You got that tragic set of charms / That only comes from time spent in Los Angeles / Makes me wanna wrap you in my arms,” sang Taylor Goldsmith, who lost his Altadena home studio, accompanied by his drummer, brother and neighbor Griffin, who had everything burn down. Los Angeles may be the only city that continually generates artists who openly point to what a melancholy place it is, or can be, a recognition that hardly cancels out the civic pride.

But sadness was mostly best left to the interstitial montages about the micro-communities as well as material things that were lost in the fires. In the roughly two and a half weeks that were spent putting together FireAid, a great deal of work was clearly put into making sure that a video team did the work of news journalists in gathering interviews from residents of the Palisades and Altadena that had their lives changed forever during these uncontrolled blazes, as well as finding average citizens who could get on stage and speak to the devastation and hope. (A common motif emerged — the story of the residents who went back to their burned-down lots and found one surviving symbolic artifact amid the ashy rubble.)

The degree of care that went into the documentary aspects of the six hours matched the flawless way in which 27 acts proceeded one another on stage with nary a lull or snafu in sight. That’s not something that’s new to executive producer and director Joel Gallen, but it can’t be understated how impressive it was to have gotten this thing up and going from zero to 60 and looking like it’d been months in the making. That’s another quality that the show spoke to, without ever saying as much, that is a part of what feels right to celebrate about Los Angeles: goddam professionalism.

There was sadness, and there was smoothness. But if you’re a child of rock ‘n’ roll in any way, the show was at its best in the one segment where things just felt feral. That was the Nirvana quasi-reunion, which was not announced in advance or even as it began to unfold on the Forum stage. Suddenly, there on stage was St. Vincent, howling something that was clearly not off her latest album, and it took at least a few bars to realize that the pile of faceless hair thrashing head-diown behind her was Dave Grohl, and Krist Novoselic and Pat Smear were anchoring either end of the stage, too. From her appropriately punky throwndown of “Breed,” the audience next got Sonic Youth’s Kim Gordon taking the lead on “School,” and then Joan Jett growling “Stay Away,” and finally Violet Grohl (with Gordon now on bass, and Novosolic playing accordion) for a chilled-out closer of “All Apologies.” St. Vincent, Gordon and Jett were all reprising roles they had taken when Nirvana was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 11 years ago — but doing different songs this time, so that the familiarity still felt ferocious and unpredictable. It was again understood, from this wonderful gambit, that the only appropriate fill-ins for Kurt were women, all tough enough to take up where he willingly left off.

This whole bit was nirvana (small-N).

Meanwhile, did Lady Gaga sign up to go on at almost 3 a.m. east coast time, or was it a case of headliners gotta headline, no matter how late that climactic slot gets bumped? However anticipated the lateness of the hour was, the fans who filled the livestream comments crawl for six hours with the demand to see her immediately ultimately felt their (im)patience was rewarded with her show-closing three-song set. “Shallow,” for one, sounded as strong solo as it ever did as a duet. And after a long show in which the specter of unfamiliar material had been raised only as a joke (“Here’s a new song… not,” quipped Rod Stewart, just before launching into “Maggie May”), Gaga had the temerity and good sense to end the whole affair on a hopeful song she said she and her fiance Michael Polansky had written with the intent of only being performed here — a sweet-spirited one-off that offered a final bedtime lift.

Overall, it was a show with something for everybody… and something to deeply test the patience of everybody, at some point, too, as is the nature of these things. There has to be overlap between the fan bases of Peso Pluma and Slash, but it probably doesn’t run deep. But in a way, the vast sprawl of FireAid felt like it represented the vast sprawl of Los Angeles.

In his opening remarks, Billy Crystal compared this show to another one he played host at, “The Concert for New York” in the month after 9/11, and suggested L.A. was similarly rallying and unifying. The correlations are difficult there, as greater L.A. is so spread out that it is never going to have quite the same touchy-feely togetherness that crusty New Yorkers are able to muster under tragic circumstances, smushed together on an island. More than 30 miles separate the two most impacted fire centers, Pacific Palisades and Altadena, with vast parts of the city still unable to grasp the gravity of what’s happened because they haven’t seen it. (And never mind how much vaster L.A. is as a spiritual concept than all that. Olivia Rodrigo told the audience she “lived here all my life,” even though she grew up well over an hour’s drive away in Riverside County. “Here” is a state of mind — an accedence to a dream — as much as a city with the geographical boundaries that usually draw people closer.)

The show’s six hours were a pittance compared to the all-day LiveAid, but still pretty massive for a nighttime event. But the generation- and style-spanning FireAid had a lot in common with Los Angeles, which is so often described as a conglomerate of small towns: arguably too colossal… too encompassing… too good.

So, with those kudos for the show in mind, and considering the circumstances that prompted it, what do you say we don’t do it again soon?

FireAid setlist

Green Day:
Last Night on Earth (with Billie Eilish)
Still Breathing
When I Come Around

Alanis Morissette:
Hand in My Pocket
Thank U

Anderson .Paak:
Put Me Thru (with Sheila E.)
Come Down (with Sheila E.)
Still D.R.E. (with Dr. Dre and Sheila E.)
California Love (with Dr. Dre and Sheila E.)

Joni Mitchell:
Both Sides Now

Dawes:
Time Spent in Los Angeles

Stephen Stills with Dawes and Mike Campbell:
For What It’s Worth

Stephen Stills & Graham Nash with Dawes:
Teach Your Children

Pink:
What About Us
Me and Bobby McGee
Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You

Rod Stewart:
Forever Young
Maggie May
People Get Ready

John Mayer:
Neon
Gravity
Free Fallin’

Earth, Wind & Fire:
That’s the Way of the World
Shining Star
September

The Black Crowes:
Remedy
Going to California (with Slash)

John Fogerty:
Have You Ever See the Rain (with the Black Crowes)

Gracie Abrams:
I Love You, I’m Sorry (with Aaron Dessner)
A Long December (with Aaron Dessner)

No Doubt:
Just a Girl
Don’t Speak
Spiderwebs

Tate McRae:
You Broke Me First
Don’t Dream It’s Over

Jelly Roll:
I Am Not Okay
Hollywood Nights (with Travis Barker)

Stevie Nicks:
Stand Back
Landslide
Edge Of Seventeen

Katy Perry:
Rise
Roar
California Gurls

Nirvana reunion:
Breed (with St. Vincent)
School (with Kim Gordon)
Stay Away (with Joan Jett)
All Apologies (with Violet Grohl)

Lil Baby:
So Sorry
Emotionally Scarred

Red Hot Chili Peppers:
Dani California
Californication
Black Summer
Under The Bridge

Olivia Rodrigo:
Drivers License
Deja Vu

Sting:
Message in a Bottle
Driven to Tears
Fragile

Peso Pluma:
La Bebe

Billie Eilish:
Wildflower
The Greatest
Birds of a Feather

Stevie Wonder:
Love’s in Need of Love Today
Superstition (with Sting)
Higher Ground (with Sting and Flea)

Lady Gaga:
Shallow
Always Remember Us This Way
New unnamed song