Heart at Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion, 8/14/2013
You know, Wednesday night proved that the boys that could learn a thing or two from the ladies in Heart on how to rock the hell out. Those Wilson sisters are freakin' awesome from head to badass toe.
From the moment Heart hit the stage, following an amazingly rad set from Jason Bonham's Led Zeppelin Experience (who we'll get to later), they were some ass-kickin', vocal slaying, guitar- and mandolin-shredding musicians, and it was so refreshing to see a pair of women who rocked as fuckin' hard as they did. Seriously. It renewed my faith about just how strong women can be as musicians. No gimmicks, all rock and roll.
Opening with a sudden burst of their 1977 hit "Barracuda," before the lights even came up to illuminate the stage, Ann Wilson's voice was as unique and recognizable as it always has been. She's arguably one of the best rock vocalists around, female or not, and that velvety wail was thankfully as goose bump-inducing live as it is on albums, right from the start.
Nancy Wilson, Heart's instrumental mastermind, was right behind her sister, shredding the shit out of her guitar, and as the two sisters tore apart that song -- Ann with her flawless vocals, and Nancy with those epic guitar riffs -- it was apparent that these ladies were long overdue for this year's induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
I mean, really? What the hell took so long? One song in, and these ladies had proven themselves to be the real deal. That induction should have happened many years ago, but I digress.
As they launched into the next song, "Heartless," it was pretty obvious that the crowd, along with these badass ladies, meant business. Every single person in that massive amphitheatre was out of their seats and playing air guitar along with Nancy, while half of us were juggling an air-guitar/hairbrush/bathroom-mirror-singing combo, completely immersed in Heart's catalog.
I had to wonder if it's ever strange for them to look out among the crowd and seeing this massive sea of people doing a piss-poor job of replicating their skills (myself included; I'm not judging), but it was kind of awesome to know (as an audience member and voyeur) just how into the music everyone was. No one cared about how ridiculous they looked. They just jammed.
The review continues on the next page.