If you’ve been scratching your head all weekend, pondering the meaning of the previous entry, allow me to explain now: on Friday night, The Girlfriend and I went to something that seems to be turning into an annual event for us, a little thing we like to call “the Old Fart Triple-Threat Summer Nostalgia Party-time Concert™.” As you may recall, last year’s line-up consisted of The Stray Cats, The Pretenders, and ZZ Top. This year, it was Cheap Trick, Heart, and Journey. Yes, I’m well aware I have the musical tastes of a mullet-headed, Camaro-lovin’ fifteen-year-old from the year 1985. Did you have a point?

Anyhow, to be honest, we almost didn’t go to this one. We only bought our tickets a week beforehand, following about a month of conversations that were all variants on the theme of, “Do you want to go?” and “I dunno, do you want to go?” What finally clinched it for us was picking up Journey’s latest album, the aptly named Revalation. It’s their first release featuring their new lead singer, Arnel Pineda, and it is, in a word, incredible. Sonically, it could’ve been recorded at the band’s peak 25 years ago, and yet the songs are deeper than anything on Escape or Frontiers — it’s the same old sound, but now coming from a more mature place, and it’s immensely appealing if you like these older bands. I’ve had it on nearly constant rotation in my car the last couple of weeks. Even so, it was Anne — who I must remind everyone was always a New Wave girl back in the day, and is most definitely not an aging rocker like me — who finally said she really wanted to see Arnel live, based on the bonus DVD that comes with Revelation. We managed to find some reasonably decent seats, considering how late we finally made up our minds, and we were off…

The concert was held outdoors at Usana Amphitheater, but we’ve learned a couple of tricks since our first show out there, and we managed to arrive with plenty of time for souvenir shopping and a leisurely trip through the pizza line.

The show started right on time at 7:00 PM, with Cheap Trick opening. I must confess, I never really cared for Trick — their sound is too heavily influenced by punk for my tastes — and their performance left both Anne and myself cold. With the exception of the crowd-pleasing “I Want You to Want Me” and their late-80s power-ballad “The Flame,” their set was only vaguely familiar to me, like songs I heard once in a dream or something, but there really wasn’t anything about them that made me want to recall them, if that makes sense. Again, I think it must be the punk sound; I loathe punk. It’s one of the few musical issues Anne and I instantly agree upon with no discussion or debate.

Still, Cheap Trick wasn’t entirely without its entertaining qualities: I was amused by lead guitarist Rick Nielsen‘s collection of eccentric instruments, including a guitar shaped like, well, himself (I think I remember that from an old music video) and an ungainly looking monster with five necks.

Of the three acts on the ticket, I think I was most excited by — and nervous about — the prospect of seeing Heart. I had a big-time crush on both Wilson sisters back in the day, and I saw them live in ’86 or ’87 and thought they kicked ass (would it surprise any of my loyal readers to learn I still have my t-shirt and souvenir program from that show?), so I was naturally afraid they wouldn’t live up to my memories and I’d end up feeling all disillusioned and crushed. I’m happy to say that age has not taken any appreciable toll on them. Lead vocalist Ann has gained a lot of weight since the first time I saw them, but she’s still beautiful and her voice remains immensely powerful (during an awe-inspiring rendition of The Who’s “Reign O’er Me,” my Anne asked me if Ann Wilson’s ever had training as an opera singer; I had to admit I have no idea); guitarist Nancy is a redhead these days (she was blond in the ’80s) but otherwise seems not to have changed at all. She still sashays about the stage in a frock coat while effortlessly churning out smokin’ riffs. (God, female guitarists are sexy!) Their set covered the biggest hits from both their early days (“Magic Man,” “Crazy on You,” and, of course, “Barracuda” were all prominent) and their mid-80s glamour-queen power-ballad period (“Alone” and “These Dreams” stand out in my mind), as well as covers of the aforementioned Who song and Led Zep’s “Going to California.” The most gratifying thing about Heart’s performance, for me, was that it seems to have made a fan out The Girlfriend, a new interest that I’m only too happy to encourage.

When Journey finally took the stage, their show seemed to start at a run and it never let up for a good two hours. I never saw this band in its prime when Steve Perry was on lead vocals, but I can’t imagine those 80s-vintage concerts could’ve been any more entertaining than the one I witnessed Friday night. Arnel Pineda, the new singer, is about my age, but he looks like a kid alongside the older band members, and he acts like he’s won the lottery by landing this gig (which, in a sense, he has — a year ago, he was just the leader of a cover band in his native Philipines; then Neil Schon spots him on YouTube, flies him over to the States for an audition, and suddenly he’s a rock star. It’s every teenage kid’s wish come true, the stuff of inspiring feel-good movies…) His joy and energy are infectious, and he never let the audience’s attention wander for a second.

The set itself was a good mix of material from the new album and old favorites — as I mentioned, the new stuff fits right in with the band’s classic hits — and even though I’ve always been at best a casual Journey fan, I found myself singing and air-guitaring along like I knew them all by heart. I was pleased to hear the audience’s positive reaction to my two favorites of the new songs, “Change for the Better,” which could be Arnel’s theme song and is a perfect sunny-day, top-down-driving tune, and “After All These Years,” a kind of thematic sequel to “Faithfully” which is destined to become a new wedding-anniversary standard. And speaking of “Faithfully,” the close of the set was just brilliant: instead of the usual hard-driving finish that leaves everyone feeling vaguely disappointed when it’s over, Journey ended by playing “Faithfully,” their huge ballad from 1983, encouraging the crowd to sing along to the “whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh” part, and then fading away into the shadows while the audience was distracted by images of itself on the big video displays at the back of the stage. It was, at the risk of sounding really cheesy, a magical moment, one of those so-rare times when it feels like you’ve shared something really special with hundreds of strangers.

This was how rock concerts felt when I was a teenager and still believed there was some kind of deep, profound power in something as simple as a three-minute-long hit single. This is the reason why I keep going to see all these old bands I loved back then, the hope of feeling that sensation again, if only for a moment.

It was a great show.

***

That noted, I would now like to briefly address a few of the people who were in the audience around Anne and me:

To the lesbian couple seated behind us, who I’m guessing don’t like Heart very much because you kept up a constant blather throughout their set, thus preventing me from hearing any of the in-between-song patter, you don’t know how close you came to having one of my stinky Teva sandals stuffed in each of your mouths.

To the older gentleman three rows in front of us: dude, when your back hair is lush enough to have a part in it, you really shouldn’t wear tanktops to public events. Especially ones that may involve the consumption of food. That’s just wrong.

To the scary-looking biker guy who was somehow sticking empty beer cans to his slick bald head: nice party trick.

To the cute little teenager with the shaggy blond haircut and the sprayed-in purple highlights, the gal who expertly lip-synched “Don’t Stop Believin'” as un-self-consciously as if we were in your bedroom singing into hairbrushes, the girl who was so eager to have a turn hitting the roaming beach ball that when I caught it I couldn’t resist handing it to you: don’t ever change, and don’t ever forget what this night was like. Your sunniness almost made up for…

…the middle-aged guy in front of me, the guy who obviously has money judging from the pressed jeans and $80 designer t-shirt, the guy who had a few too many beers and apparently has a problem with guys who wear KISS t-shirts — you know, like the one you kept trying to call out by screaming “KISS!” and “Redneck motherf**ker!” at the top of your lungs, thereby making everyone else within 30 feet of you incredibly uncomfortable — you’re not funny. I know your golfing buddies kept egging you on and saying they’d help you kick the guy’s ass, but seriously, you’re not funny. You’re not tough. And you’re not cool. What you are, is too f**king old to be acting like such a colossal dumbass. I only wish the Sandra Bullock clone who finally told you to “let it go” had spoken up sooner. And another thing: you didn’t win any humanitarian points by coldly continuing to watch the show while your poor wife vomited out approximately nine quarts of beer a mere 20 feet away from you. You know how that lady who tapped you on the shoulder and tried to alert you to your wife’s condition looked so confused by your reaction? That’s because normal, non-asshole human beings wouldn’t have reacted the way you did. They would’ve expressed some concern for the woman they share their life with. But I guess you had more important things on your mind, like how some kid in a KISS shirt once made out at the sophomore stomp with the girl you had a crush on while you sat around feeling all impotent and useless, and you vowed that one day you’d make enough money to buy that pretty girl’s affection, but it didn’t really work out because in the end, you’re still standing there alone looking like a jerk while the band plays “Open Arms.” In short, you suck, man. And I hope your wife takes you for every penny in the inevitable divorce…