It’s great to say that Heart was a trailblazer for women in rock, but today’s female hitmakers are nothing like them. You really can hear traces of Janis Joplin, Tina Turner and Patti Smith on the radio these days; not so much Ann and Nancy Wilson, despite a quarter-century of catchy success.
The singer Pink might be an exception. Her act relies on the kind of amped-up, gal-power vocals that drove Heart to the top. But, let’s face it, she doesn’t have the hair.
And hair does matter in the Heart world. If the sisters’ bodies and voices have changed, their long and frizzy coifs have remained the same. The band’s enduring energy relies as much on Nancy’s frenzied lock-flipping as it does Ann’s piercing vocals.
That makes Heart not so much a nostalgia act — they are still vibrant, terrific, hot — but an act whose music is frozen in time.
Their gig at Paramount Theatre Saturday played out just as it would have in 1976, 1986 or 1996. The audience was filled with the same people it was back in the day. The hits were delivered expertly, but most often as advertised on the recorded versions that fueled multi-platinum sales. There’s no hint that sonic styles have changed around this group; they are as uninfluenced by new music as it is of them, and they played as if growling, guitar rock is all that matters.
There were the early hits in the 90-minute show such as “Crazy on You,” and “Barracuda” and the later smashes like “Never” and “These Dreams.” There were no new tunes of note to distract the ticket buyers, little banter to shake things up and few twists — except for a cover of The Who’s “(Love) Reign O’er Me,” which they nailed, Heart-style. Throughout the night Ann sounded great, as usual. She is easily the best female rock ‘n’ roll singer of her generation and holds on to most of it at 58.
The band’s chemistry remains constant as well. The sisters connect easily on stage and compliment each others’ all-décolletage, all-the-time styles: Nancy with the fair hair, choker necklace and too-long blouse, Ann with the dark hair, purple coat and bulging sleeves. They glance knowingly at each other between chords. It’s warm, charming.
There’s something so comfortable about it all, on stage and in the seats, too. Maybe a concertgoer has to be a certain age to appreciate how much fun a crowd of waning rocker chicks and their beer-buzzed boyfriends can be. But being stuck in a genre for years means you get to know the terrain and what it allows you in public. You can relax, you can scream and drink and embarrass yourself and not feel bad for long. You can pump your fist in the air. You can tease up your hair and have the kind of good night that wasn’t possible before this kind of rock ‘n’ roll came around.
