Two rock bands that rose to stardom some 40 years ago played the SOEC Wednesday evening. And a crowd that skewed toward middle age danced and sang along and, in the words of Wednesday's lead-off act, were lovin' every minute of it.
Well, almost. There were a few hiccups along the way. But more on that later.
Loverboy, a band that cut its teeth in Vancouver and features a singer born in New Westminster but raised in Penticton, hit the stage precisely at the show's advertised 7:30 start time. They opened with their 1987 hit Notorious, co-written by Jon Bon Jovi, and the party was on.
The band's a little different from their heyday. Lead vocalist Mike Reno, a guy known back in the 80s for his red leather pants and headband, now comes across as endearing class clown rather than sex symbol.
The headband, and that snarl, are still there - as was a "Straight Outta Penticton" t-shirt last night - but the tight pants and the strutting peacock facade are long gone.
These days, the Loverboy focus is shared by bass player Ken Sinnaeve, who came on board in 2001 after original bassist Scott Smith, who was there for all the band's biggest hits, was tragically killed in a sailing mishap off the coast of California.
Sinnaeve, nicknamed "Spider," is a great bass player. And more than that, he's easily the band's most animated performer. When he's not striking prototypical rock god poses, he's leaning into the crowd or zipping around the stage like a whirlwind.
Much of that prowess comes from his time with another Canadian rock legend, Streetheart. He was a prominent part of Streetheart's glory years, and in 2001 became the second ex-Streetheart player to make the move to Loverboy.
The other is original Loverboy drummer Matt Frenette, who looked to be having a great time behind the kit Wednesday.
The band's big moment was not a surprise. When keyboardist Doug Johnson hit the telling chord and Sinnaeve launched into the octaves, it was time to go crazy. Soon the whole place was moving to Turn Me Loose, and the pitch cranked even higher when Reno nailed the high notes in the immortal line "l'm gonna pack my bags and fly, baby."
The show wasn't perfect. Loverboy's sound was somewhat murky throughout - the high frequencies struggling to cut through the audio system's prodigious lows.
And it was often just plain tough to properly hear Reno. Whether it was a sound setup issue or Reno's penchant for singing into a mic he kept perched a few inches above his mouth is unknown.
And then it was Styx' turn to shine. And shine they did.
Whereas Loverboy was all about party rock, Canadian pride, and a homecoming of sorts for Reno, Styx' musically adept blend of progressive rock and dynamics had an entirely different feel. Arguably, it stands up better to the test of time.
And Lawrence Gowan is indeed a wonderful replacement for band co-founder Dennis DeYoung, who parted permanently with Styx in 1999 after years of acrimony. Still better known simply as "Gowan," and for his solo chart-toppers Strange Animal and A Criminal Mind, he fills the gap and then some.
Indeed, Gowan seemed completely in his element. Perched at his revolving pedestal/keyboard and with a voice that still soars above seemingly any sonic assault, Gowan last night bounced about with abandon, taking total command of the stage during the key-prominent prog-rock staples that were once DeYoung's domain.
Meanwhile over at stage right, hard rocking co-vocalist/guitar virtuoso Tommy Shaw did what he's done for forty-plus years - deliver the perfect counterpoint to DeYoung/Gowan's fragility.
The second tune of the Styx set, Blue Collar Man, one of several Styx hits Shaw has penned over the years, was loud and powerful and perfect. The almost immediate transition to the Yes-like introduction to The Grand Illusion showed the band in its best multifaceted light.
There was much more. Come Sail Away. Roboto. Lady. Renegade.
And overall, the audio seemed better sorted for the evening's headline act except for one important detail. It cut out completely during Styx' opening number.
Completely. To the band's credit, they soldiered on during the gaffe - playing and singing and not even looking as annoyed as they must have been.
When the amplification reappeared some 20 seconds later, they were fully in sync and played on as if nothing had transpired. Much respect.
