I've been having one of those weeks. It started Sunday at the Dome when Scott Baker threw a gem and got zero run support, then progressed with a little bronchial thing that's settling in my chest and becoming a nasty summer cold. My daughter is involved in a leadership training program this week, so I've been driving her to the U of M campus and State Capital, doubling my commute times every day. And the Twins dropped their drawers and bent over for the Yankees in three straight games. So I've been feeling a bit pissy lately, and wasn't feeling really thrilled about attending the Tom Petty concert last night, even though my wife and I had been looking forward to it for weeks. But it turned out to be a real tonic, a dose of nostalgia-laden live experience that was just what I’ve been needing.

Steve Winwood opened the show. I really do like his music and have for many, many years. He has a resume that's hard to top – Spencer Davis Group, Blind Faith, Traffic, solo career and some great collaborations. I love his mix of blues and R&B and jazz influences. He was a great opener, though the sound system at first seemed a bit muddy (could have been the cold affecting my ears, though), the set was fairly short, and he played several songs from his new Nine Lives album which were fairly underwhelming, so some of the old favorites I had hoped for didn't make the set list. But he did get the crowd going with his throwback hits, which included strong performances of Dear Mr. Fantasy, Higher Love, and the essential Gimme Some Lovin’.

After Winwood finished up it was time to head to the bathroom and take a turn around the concourse looking for a concession line that wasn't 20 people deep. Why, oh why, why, why do arenas always seem to hire the slowest people in the world to work the concession stands? Are sloth and indolence among the job requirements for such a position?*

*And since I'm on a bit of a rant now, I'll add this. When attending an experiential auditory event, please at least make an effort to arrive on time so you don't have to stumble over a dozen people in the dark to get to your seats. And stow that damn cell phone once the music begins because you can't hear jack squat and neither can the person on the other end. Also, unless you are in the few rows right in front of the stage, the flash unit on your digital camera is absolutely useless and only serves to annoy the other 15,000 people in the building. There's a button on the camera that turns off the flash. Use it, please. Thank you. You may now vacate my greensward.

It was interesting during the break to note the makeup of the crowd. Yes, there were an awful lot of us old schoolers pushing 50 and beyond, but also a fair contingent of 20 and 30-somethings, and more pierced, tattoo sporting teenagers than I would have expected. But it was the geezers like myself who appeared in the majority, grabbing at another chance to recall our spent youth, and humorously pointed out the irony of the display ads for Flomax above the urinal troughs. So after dropping $12 on a bag of popcorn and two bottles of Dasani and sneaking a peek at the tour merchandise (40 bucks for a tee shirt? Really? I was actually expecting the rotund delivery guy from the Miller beer commercials to show up and take away their High Life), I made it back to my seat with just a few minutes to spare. And then it was show time.

The house lights went down. There was movement on the stage. And as the spotlights came up and the first notes of You Wreck Me reverberated through the Target Center, the place erupted. And I have to say, Tom Petty is an absolute, bona fide, genuine frigging Rock Star. Over the course of the next two hours, he demonstrated just why he’s been able to remain on top of the fickle rock and roll heap for three solid decades. And the current iteration of The Hearbreakers – Mike Campbell on lead guitar, Scott Thurston on rhythm guitar and harmonica, Ron Blair on bass, Benmont Tench manning the Hammond organ and baby grand piano, and Steve Ferrone driving a relentless beat on drums – is an incredibly tight band. I mean, they are tighter than the expression on Cindy McCain’s face, if such a thing is possible.

After the opening number, Petty and his band kept the intensity high by moving straight into a great version of Listen to Her Heart. By the time that number finished, the crowd was his, heart and soul, and he moved around the stage with the smooth, magnanimous attitude of a benevolent minstrel gracing his fans with his talent. From there Petty and his band treated the throng to a seemingly endless string of hits and favorites – I Won’t Back Down, Even the Losers, Free Fallin’, and Mary Jane. My wife and I grinned happily at each other as Petty introduced the Traveling Wilbury’s End of the Line (The Wilbury’s were a staple of our salad days, when attending anything but a free concert was as out of reach as flying to the moon). Petty followed with Breakdown, Saving Grace, A Face in the Crowd, Honey Bee, Learning to Fly, Don’t Come Around Here No More, and Refugee. Most of them great extended versions that featured soaring, wailing guitar leads, gripping rhythms and harmonies, hammering drums, and some almost operatic keyboard work.

Now, planned encores always seem a bit disingenuous to me, but I was able to easily put that prejudice aside last night and join in the raucous cheers and calls for more when Petty and crew put down their instruments and took a short break. After a few minutes of thunderous applause, whistling and foot stomping, they retook the stage to appease the thankful audience with an excellent, driving version of Runnin’ Down a Dream before launching into Van Morrison’s Gloria (a long crowd participation version), and finally bringing the show to an ear-ringing crescendo by finishing off with American Girl.

So yeah, this week the Twins suck, I’m coughing up a lung and burning twice as much $4 a gallon gas as usual. But my foot is tapping while I work, I’ve got some excellent tunes rolling around in my head, and a smile on my face, and a great memory that will stay fresh at least until the summer turns to fall. And I feel just a little bit younger than I did at this time yesterday. So I have that going for me. Which is nice.