Because people will drag their lawn chairs to South Park on a Friday night no matter what's happening, there were actually folks in their 80s on the hill for Blue Oyster Cult this weekend.

With all the squealing guitar solos that followed, they must have been popping Excedrins like Skittles.

Aside from being 99.9 percent white, it was one of the most diverse crowds that's ever attended a rock concert. There were seniors, toddlers, tweens, bikers in black gear and professionals in khakis with wine and cheese picnics. The dude next to me was a grizzled Vietnam vet in a tie-dyed shirt and camo Marine cap who told me 10 times, "don't send your kids, maaan" and noted of BOC, "I rock the trailer with this [stuff]."

BOC, still led by 50-somethings Eric Bloom and Buck Dharma, rocked the packed hillside with 13 dozen songs, five or six of which people truly cared about. One was the opener "This Ain't the Summer of Love," which would have been far more menacing had it not been daylight in a park.

Dharma made a disastrous attempt to get acquainted, when his greeting of "Pittsburgh! Isn't this the home of the Pirates?" was met with dead silence. Dude, don't you know you have to say Steelers or Penguins? He retreated with "We'd better get back to the music."

The Long Island band did just that with the golden oldie "Burnin' for You" and the rock anthem "Cities on Flame" surrounded by more obscure choices like boogie-fied "Me262" and the rather dull "The Vigil." Some of them were slowed from the originals, because, well, they're old. "Buck's Boogie" and "Shooting Shark" opened the door for long, wanky guitar solos, the likes of which you don't hear much anymore outside of rib festivals and guitar shops.

As night fell, BOC gave the people want they wanted. They stomped into the monster riff of "Godzilla" like true dinosaurs, prompting the rockers up front to throw up their arms. Unlike the version they did at the Stanley back in the day, there were no lasers, but they did take a Quiet Riot tangent in honor of current bassist, Rudy Sarzo.

It was the first of a one-two punch with "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," a classic that came with one of the most sinister guitar riffs ever and a killer solo in the middle, all nailed just right. One of the more khaki guys toward the back said it all when he hollered to his buddy "Man, the old hits still rock!"