At first, it felt like Lost in Translation. Bill Murray - yes, that Bill Murray - stood in the back at San Diego's intimate The Sound concert venue at Del Mar racetrack and fairgrounds, half-hidden behind bongos, shaking his maracas, adding third-wheel percussion while a killer band did the heavy lifting. For a couple songs I was a Scrooge about it—What about Bob? More like what about Bill, since he was almost unseen. He looked tired, even a little nervous, fussing with the bottom of his shirt between cues. The crowd wondered if we’d accidentally wandered into Zombieland.
Then the clock crept toward that familiar SNL hour, and Murray hit his 11:30 stride. Grabbing the mic for “Like a Rolling Stone,” he delivered a strange, soulful, near-spoken take that was - no joke - wonderful. It built from wry and tentative to full-throated catharsis, the room roaring the chorus back at him. He followed with a warm, lived-in “Love the One You’re With,” and suddenly the whole thing snapped into focus: this wasn’t shtick, it was heart. Murray wasn’t clowning; he was meaning it.
The band, meanwhile, crushed all night. Mike Zito turned Prince’s “Little Red Corvette” into a smoldering blues burner; Jimmy Vivino (the one-time Conan bandleader) tore the roof off “Shotgun” and tipped his hat to B.B. King - who would have turned 100 in September - with taste and fire. Sax ace Jimmy Carpenter, whose own band opened, threaded it all with fat, jubilant lines. It was a revue in the best sense: two drummers pounding, keys shimmering, the groove unshakeable.
Murray kept drifting between the backline and the spotlight - percussionist one minute, front man the next - like he was living out a private dare. The SNL great even did his own version of "more cowbell". When he sang, you could see the jitters: a hand at his hem, a breath before the downbeat. But the vulnerability became the charm. “Rolling Stone” was the high point, the moment the room flipped from curiosity to communion. By the end, after a full-company bow, Murray beamed and frisbeed a handful of guitar picks into the crowd, a small, goofy grace note that felt just right.
If the early going was Groundhog Day - are we doing this again? - the finish was all redemption. Bill Murray & His Blood Brothers turned a novelty into a night, and in the process reminded a sold-out San Diego crowd at The Sound that sincerity, a deep band, and - yes - more cowbell can still light a spark.
If the early going was Groundhog Day - are we doing this again? - the finish was all redemption. Bill Murray & His Blood Brothers turned a novelty into a night, and in the process reminded a sold-out San Diego crowd at The Sound that sincerity, a deep band, and - yes - more cowbell can still light a spark.
Originally published on October 16, 2025.
