Ron Koch

Cindy Wilson, Fred Schneider and Kate Pierson of the B-52s having some fun at Pure.

By John Katsilometes · July 19, 2009 · 12:22 PM

The band looks out to the crowd, which is having quite the time.

Ron Koch

The B-52s rock a crowd of more than 1,000 at Pure.

“Rock Lobster!” shouted the guy behind me in the black shirt and equally black Oakley wrap-arounds. “Rock! Lob! Steeeeeeer!”

Soon those around him were swept up in the sentiment. “Yeah! Rock (expletive) Lobster!”

It’s the B-52s! Let’s have a riot!

It was last night at Pure nightclub at Caesars Palace, and in an uncommon shift in the hotspots demographic makeup, most of those in the audience were of an older generation, smile lines creasing their faces and their hair shot through with gray streaks. But it was a hard-rockin’ crowd, a lobster-rockin’ crowd if you will, that turned out to see the B-52s perform at the hotel’s bustling, oft-notorious nightspot. The official crowd count provided by Pure’s new PR director Mike Gilmartin (the longtime PR rep of the Stratosphere landed this gig a couple months ago) was 1,043. The ticket prices were $44.95, not bad, and this crowd knew what it wanted: A serving of the lobster.

As I tweeted from the show, “Rock Lobster” is to the B-52s as “Free Bird” is to Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Evidently realizing this, the hourlong show built appropriately to that end. The band’s long-familiar lineup is Fred Schneider on lead vocals (and cowbell, bongos, xylophone and crappy plastic ray guns -- explanation to follow), Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson on backing vocals and Keith Strickland on lead guitar. As expected, the band knocked out the most enduring songs from 1989’s rollicking double-platinum “Cosmic Thing” -- “Love Shack” and “Roam.” It also cranked out camped-up versions of “Hot Corner” (featuring the pricelessly persuasive lyric, “Do a white hot shimmy in a Lurex gown!”), “Mesopotamia,” (the finest dance song ever about this ancient civilization) and a personal favorite, “Private Idaho.” The B-52s are no longer the lithe little band that busted out of Athens, Ga., in the mid-1970s, but even if those print ads showing the band have obviously been altered to drop a few pounds, the crew still exudes ample energy onstage. Few dancers in any forum can pull off as credible a swim move as Strickland, Pierson and Wilson.

Maddeningly, the crowd’s caterwauling made what seemed to be inventive stage banter from Strickland nearly inaudible. He spoke of visiting Bonanza Gifts, “that world’s greatest gift shop -- so true!” is how I heard it, spending “$9 on a bunch of toys!” During “Keep This Party Going,” Strickland made it happen by pretending to fire a couple of cheap illuminated ray guns into the crowd, which I expect were purchased at Bonanza (I was hoping Strickland would produce a Jesus action figure sold at Bonanza, too, but he must not have delved that deep into the store).

At about the hour mark, the familiar chords of “Rock Lobster” emanated from the stage, and the crowd bounded in kind. The spiraling synth work had many of those in the audience, many of whom are probably popping Advil today, grinning and spinning. The floor was far too jammed to go “down, down, dooooown,” but the tune was still a soaring, thundering success. As Fred says, “I was havin’ an out-of-body experience,” and for a too-brief time, the gyrating vets brandishing new toys and old beehives showed they can still rock it.