Jon Malstrom | Authentic Ramblings

My wife and I went to see Pat Benatar in concert at House of Blues last night.  I’ve been looking forward to this since I found out four months ago that she was coming.  I’m a huge fan of Benatar’s — really since the start of her career in 1979.  I actually wore out two copies of the Crimes of Passion record (yeah, those round flat vinyl things that everyone’s either forgotten about or has no direct knowledge of at all). 

In 1981, after the release of Precious Time, I got to see Pat Benatar in concert for the first time.  I was a junior in high school in El Paso, Texas, but all the big names came to the Special Events Center at New Mexico State University in Las Cruces, about an hour and a half north of El Paso.  This was my first rock concert.  Later I also saw Foreigner at the same venue for the 4 tour. 

The concert last night was a completely different experience, and not just because I’m 30 years older.  Here are some of my observations. 

• The House of Blues is much smaller and more intimate than the arena environment that Benatar used to play in.  There’s no sitting (unless you’re willing to pay double to be in the balcony) and most stand on the floor in front of the stage.  I knew this beforehand, but I still chose to wear uncomfortable shoes.  Halfway through the opening act I couldn’t feel my toes anymore.  Once they went numb it got better, at least until we left and the blood came back.  Imagine a thousand needles stabbing your toes in a syncopated rhythm. 

• It was very, very hot in the House of Blues.  Air conditioning and ventilation was severely lacking and there was a lot of sweating going on.  I had this constant river running from the top of my neck all the way down my spine and into my briefs.  Let me just say that I totally agree with that UnderArmour commercial that says “Cotton is the Enemy.” 

• Either the House of  Blues, or maybe Pat Benatar, attracts really short people.  I towered over most of the guys and ladies standing in front of us.  I’m not a short man, I’m 6 feet, but I’m not like an NBA playa either.  I’m not complaining, it’s merely an observation.  It definitely worked to my advantage, affording me unobstructed views of Ms. Benatar and the idiocy all around me (more on this to come).  It also made me a little more tolerant of the guys with Napoleon complexes who continually nudged their way under my armpits to get closer to the stage.  That’s quite a price to pay, little dudes, but whatever. 

• The demographic last night skewed a whole lot older than it did in 1981.  Even though there was more sagging and wrinkling and exposed tattoos than I remember, the lack of inhibition seemed wilder than ever.  Picture “mature” women in their 50’s with over-processed hair, spray tans, and tight clothes pounding glow-in-the-dark shots of radioactive alcohol of some kind.  This one lady in the balcony above us kept grinding herself against a support pole and waving her arms all over the place.  One of these arms was greedily attached to a cup of beer which she sloshed into most of the reserved seats around her, and later dropped over the edge during a particularly enthusiastic gyration.  A security guard walked down to have a talk with her but was shot-blocked by the bar girl bringing another round of drinks.

• There was much less pot smoke in the air than last time, but a whole lot more beer and alcohol.  We weren’t drinking, but I think I had more liquor in my shoes and on my pants than the short, “mature” people around me consumed.  Most were so drunk they didn’t posses the motor skills to actually connect the rim of the cup with their lips.  But man they had a talent for dumping it on me and my wife. 

• Speaking of smells in the air, this couple in front of us had a real problem.  I have a teenage boy in the house so I’ve smelled some bad stink before, but this was beyond offensive.  I think it’s a law of physics (or some other sciencey law) that hot gases will disperse quicker if they have a larger space to expand into.   House of Blues is a pretty big place, but this stink would not leave.  We had to move back away from the stage to escape the mushroom cloud from hell.

• You can probably tell that I almost had more fun watching the people at this concert than watching Pat Benatar.  My wife and I were on our iPhones tweeting updates all night and ping-ponging comments.  You know what they say, the couple that tweets together, stays together.  Check out our Twitter timelines from last night for real-time hilarity.  Twitter: @jmalstrom, @lmalstrom

• I got tons of boob action last night.  I was not seeking this out, honest.  But it seemed I couldn’t turn around without bumping into a pair or two, and they kept bouncing off me as groups of ladies pushed through the crowd to get to the bar.  I tried to use my wife as a shield at one point but it did no good.  Lisa has a great sense of humor and was really amused watching my reaction, but for me it was beyond awkward.  It’s not much of an ego boost having a 55yo woman in a tube top rubbing her saggy balloons across the waistband of your jeans.

• I think I totally got a lap dance during “Hit Me With Your Best Shot.”  This girl was pretty bombed and she was not respecting my personal space at all.

• My wife got groped and almost barfed on by a woman behind us who was well on her way to passing out.

• The show itself was awesome, but different than it was 29 years ago.  Pat Benatar is still pretty hard-driving, but her stuff is “classic” enough now to be treated more like a Jimmy Buffet sing-along than an arena rock experience. 

• Finally, Pat Benatar still looks great for 57.  She’s traded the Spandex for a pantsuit, but the feisty spirit and that powerful voice is still in control.  Her husband, Neil “Spyder” Giraldo is an A-MA-ZING guitarist, just as I remember from the Precious Time tour.  Even more impressive is that they are still married after 28 years.