Older, stronger and sexier, the Go-Go's have got it going on
Music Review
By Michael D. Clark

The '80s came rushing into Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion Wednesday night with the Go-Go's and the B-52's. For some, it was an event that rivaled finding a Rubik's Cube or Cabbage Patch Kid under the Christmas tree some 15 years ago.
For others, it was a reminder of why the post-new-wave Zeitgeist so relevant and enduring back in the days of feathered hair and headbands never made it to the new millennium.
After the Go-Go's' mid-'80s implosion in a haze of drugs and jealousy, most would have assumed it would be the B-52's who would thrive as a "nostalgia" act. After this show, it's clear that the valley girls might have a second life, while the rock lobsters are going "down ... down ... down."
Perhaps the best thing that ever happened to the long-term stability of the Go-Go's was taking the majority of the last 15 years off. After a four-year joy ride in the early '80s, followed by a messy separation, it took about that long for feelings to mend.
The second half of the original grrrl-band's career actually doesn't start until next year when the Go-Go's put out their first studio album since 1984's Talk Show. The women are using this summer's "oldies" circuit to get back on the radar of fans and radio. Their 16-song, 65-minute performance proved the beauties of beat have much more to offer.
Beginning with the chiming chords of Vacation and the punkabilly This Town, the Go-Go's captured the glitzy, cool-chick fun that originally took them to the top of the charts. On Head Over Heels and Cool Jerk, the members displayed something lost the first time around: a sense of camaraderie as playful as the music.
The whispers followed by cackles between songs and guitarist Jane Wiedlin's teasing bunny ears behind the head of guitarist Charlotte Caffey made the scene feel like the teen-age slumber party everybody wanted it to be.
Belinda Carlisle was cute as a puffy-cheeked twentysomething, but as a self-assured fortysomething she's absolutely stunning. Her voice is still that of post-pubescent lost innocence, but watching her snap and sway onstage now is to watch a woman much more calculating.
As bold as her presence is, the Go-Go's are not just Carlisle's band anymore. The strength from the rest of the band can be felt onstage, a key ingredient especially in the sprinkling of new songs introduced.
Gidget guitarist Wiedlin hasn't aged a day and can still provide falsetto on songs like Our Lips Are Sealed. On the new three-chord assault Kissing Asphalt and the foamy pop-rock debut of Superslide, Wiedlin and Caffey contribute heftier harmonies and sing as Carlisle's equals.
It makes one wonder what would happen if the Go-Go's could start over with the songs they had then and the head smarts they have now. Next year's new album might yield an answer.
Unfortunately, it doesn't appear that there will be many next years for the creaky B-52's. With its beehive wigs and multidimensional outlook, the Athens, Ga., band was a bit of an acquired taste from the start.
Sinus-challenged Fred Schneider, along with party dolls Cindy Wilson and Kate Pierson, sold it for years with flamboyance and funky dances. Now they look like aging hipsters going through motions they invented.
The 13-song set contained all the strobe lights and sequined imagery that accompany favorites like Private Idaho and Planet Claire, but the body language seemed flat. Pierson, who once could go-go stomp like Nancy Sinatra, now swings her arms with apathy even during spotlight solos like Roam. And Wilson -- who briefly left the band in the '90s -- looked to be struggling to keep her eyes open.
Obscure early psychedelics like Lava and Hero Worship were welcome additions to a set sticking close to songs from the band's 1998 hits package Time Capsule. Even when they ignited a karaoke classic like Love Shack, however, it felt as if the crowd had more interest in carrying on the legacy than the band.
By the time the B-52's got to the enduring dance favorite Rock Lobster, many in the jam-packed amphitheater had danced their way out of the pavilion and onto Interstate 45.

Copyright 2000 Houston Chronicle.
July 28, 2000, 9:55AM