By Mauricio Segura June 18, 2025
Photo: Salomon888
As Barry Manilow steps onto the stage of The Last Concerts tour this summer, there’s no mistaking that this isn’t just another string of shows, it’s a personal celebration of a life devoted to music, connection, and unwavering artistry. At 82, Barry is bidding farewell to touring, but not without giving his fans a final round imbued with gratitude, warmth, and soulful reflection, including across three cherished stops in the Bay Area and Sacramento.
Born Barry Alan Pincus on June 17, 1943, in Brooklyn, he took his mother’s maiden name, Manilow, as a young child. Raised with accordion and piano lessons, he honed his craft at the New York College of Music and Juilliard. It would be those early years, writing jingles for State Farm (And Like A Good Neighbor, State Farm is There), Band‑Aid (I am stuck on Band-Aid brand 'cause Band-Aid's stuck on me!), and KFC (Get a Bucket of Chicken, finger-lickin Good), and arranging for legendary performers like Bette Midler, that refined his capacity to reach directly into the hearts of listeners.
But it’s the songs, “Mandy,” “Copacabana,” “I Write the Songs”, "This One's For You", where his timeless magic shines through. Selling over 85 million records and claiming 13 number‑one singles on Adult Contemporary charts, Barry built a canon of songs that go straight to the soul. Yet fans, affectionately known as “Fanilows”, will tell you it’s more than popularity; it’s intimacy. At every concert, he stops to say thank you: he signs programs, tells personal stories, and swings his gratitude directly into the crowd’s open arms.
It’s that down-to-earth sincerity, paired with an unexpected reserve about his voice, that keeps him on stage. In a rare glimpse behind the curtain, Barry once joked, “I don’t consider myself a singer… I just start singing and cross my fingers.” His honesty is tangible, and so is his connection: “By keeping working, you stay young,” he’s said, echoing a mindset rooted in joy over vanity.
Which brings us to this summer’s tour, a deliberate farewell to the road. It kicked off in May in Pittsburgh, this 17‑city journey carries a quiet intensity, with Barry manning every note, high and low. He told People, “The night I can’t hit the F‑natural on ‘Even Now,’ that’s the day I throw in the towel. But I can still do it.” Each night is a declaration: “Yes, I’m here, and I still love this”.
Bay Area fans are especially lucky. On July 18 he’ll perform at the Oakland Arena, followed by stops in Sacramento’s Golden 1 Center on July 19 and San Jose’s SAP Center on July 20, the final curtain call for this farewell tour. These cities hold decades of memories, from countless balcony serenades to communal catharsis in familiar lyrics. Now, with real finality, he’ll turn those flashes of nostalgia into shared grace.
But retirement isn’t part of the plan. Barry’s working on his final studio album, reshaping tracks to shed orchestral luxuries in favor of contemporary resonance, subtle yet bold. And after arenas go dark, he’ll light up Las Vegas once more with a lifetime residency at Westgate Resort & Casino, where he’ll continue performing in case you miss him during this tour.
This decision isn’t a retreat, it’s a transformation. No more cross-country or world travel, but a stable stage where intimacy thrives. The songs will live on, performed by the same heartfelt voice that has serenaded millions since the 1970s from Boston to Denver, and every town in between.
Perhaps even more poignant is Barry’s personal journey. After years of careful privacy, he came out and married longtime partner Garry Kief in 2014, a revelation embraced by fans with warmth and acceptance.
What makes this all so beautifully genuine? It’s sincerity without spectacle. Barry doesn’t need pyrotechnics or dramatic flair. He just needs his piano, his voice, and a crowd willing to feel. Each note is steeped in decades of crafted care, each pause filled with honest breath and devotion.
For this writer, the farewell will carry a particularly bittersweet weight. I’ve been a Fanilow since the age of four, long before I even spoke English fluently. Growing up in Costa Rica, I belted out “This One’s For You” in a blend of made up English gibberish and childhood conviction, while nailing the chorus every time. That early devotion sparked something lasting: I took up piano because of Barry and still play to this day. And yet, despite a lifetime of admiration, I’ve never seen him live. To finally witness him in concert, during these final Bay Area shows, will be nothing short of emotional, a long-awaited meeting with the music that’s shaped so much of my life.
That’s the brilliance of Barry Manilow. Not merely the hits or the decades of charts, but the trust he forged with fans through authenticity. That trust is the true encore, one that doesn’t fade when the lights go down, and certainly won’t stop after these last concerts echo into silence.
Because no matter what comes next, Barry’s song lives on.
