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Def Leppard rocks moms and dads at the amphitheatre
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Thousands of middle-aged men and women converged on the Idaho Center amphitheatre Thursday night to watch a lite-metal act, Def Leppard, perform their time-honored superhits and a few new tunes as well.
Actually, there were also a few people under 30, but they didn’t quite attract as much attention as their mothers and fathers, many of whom were dressed in tight-fitting 80s rock garb. Viva la Reagan-era.
The crowd wasn’t extremely excited for the little-known opening band, the Unband. Most of the audience stayed seated, or walked to the concessions stand to procure a low-grade alcoholic beverage.
Despite the low-key response, the Unband kicked out jams in the vein of Motorhead and the MC5, complete with lots of dirty guitar solos, faux British accents, and a lot of tongue-in-cheek rock posturing. The band enjoyed themselves immensely. It’s a shame their energy and humor were lost on the seemingly baffled and uninterested listeners.
Things livened up all across the board when Britain’s Def Leppard hit the stage. For a bunch of 40-somethings, these dudes can shake their asses around pretty damn good. Singer Joe Elliott is still one mobile mo’ fo’• he makes Mick Jagger look like the old man he is • and he’s still got the voice to back up the moves.
Drummer Rick Allen plays with just one arm, but you couldn’t tell by listening to him. There were no elaborate stage props, but the extensive light show was particularly effective outdoors, since everything was almost pitch black when the bulbs weren’t on.
Def Leppard played some cuts off of their newest album, Euphoria, plus some older ballads and rockers, and the songs were all well-received. But the atmosphere became much more intense toward the end of the set when they brought out the big guns. The Leppard posse saved all their most crowd-pleasing hits for last: “Armageddonit,” “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” “Rock of Ages,” and the encore, “Let’s Get Rocked.”
A sea of fists, pumping in rhythm with the beat, could be seen rising above gyrating bodies and mouths screaming along with the lyrics to these ageless hair metal anthems. It was as if the spirit of 1987 had descended on Nampa, Idaho, for a few brief moments. It was spiritual, it was magical, it was sublime • in a sweaty, tight-leather-and-hairspray sort of way
Jim Toweill (The Arbiter)