Wed. July 11 

    No, I did not think the B-52s would be around in 2011, doing what they do, playing "Rock Lobster," "Planet Claire" and "Dance This Mess Around." But I am very glad they and also pleased to note their Wed. July 11 concert at Bank of America Pavilion. Here’s something I adapted from a piece I wrote this nearly 20 years ago, when the B-52’s (then they had that inappropriate apostrophe in their name, not anymore) were staging a comeback.

Think of the B-52s as, perhaps, the Beach Boys of their day or genre. You have two veteran, successful pop bands, each of which has struggled, each having survived the death of a founding member. Many fans associate their music with escapist summertime fun. One band came to fame in the mid-to-late '60s, the other did it during the late-'70s-early '80s.

So: Could the B-52s the new wave generation's answer to the Beach Boys?

"Ugh," says B-52s guitarist Keith Strickland on the phone, after the notion is floated. "Oh God, I hope not!" exclaims B's singer Kate Pierson, during a separate interview. "I went to a Beach Boys show once without Brian Wilson and it was horrendous. I hope we never become like that. I just hope we don't become an institution. That we keep evolving and changing."

Contrary to the Beach Boys, the B-52s don't seem to be in any danger of turning into a traveling a human jukebox. In a sense, the B-52s -- hip new wave band of the '80s -- are the rock 'n' roll comeback kids of the '90s. Their current album, "Good Stuff," is not the 4 million seller like 1989's "Cosmic Thing," but it's done well enough to go gold, representing sales of 500,000 copies. The future looks bright.

"We did have a down time, a time of less success," says Pierson, referring to the period following guitarist Ricky Wilson's AIDS-related death in 1985. The group recorded a mediocre album, "Bouncing Off the Satellites," and then went on an extended sabbatical. The band -- once based in Athens, Ga., but relocated to New York -- never formally disbanded, but few had high hopes.

I n 1988, however, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals asked the B's to play a benefit in Washington, D.C. The band agreed. Together again, they found the chemistry and the fun were still intact. They realized they could aid other causes that interested them such as Greenpeace, Planned Parenthood and AIDS organizations. "That became a strong motivating force," says Strickland. "It gave us a renewed interest in the band."

With "Cosmic Thing," featuring "Love Shack" and "Roam," they struck paydirt. "To be successful again kind of forces you to reinvent yourself," says Pierson. "People think of you as different, as a new band. After `Cosmic Thing' came out, I heard kids say, `You know, they have other records.' I don't feel like, `Oh God, we've been together 16 years and we just keep trudging along.' I never feel rocked out, like `Rock Brontosaurus.' "

"I think we've changed as individuals," offers Strickland, who was initially the B's drummer and switched to guitar following Wilson's death. "I think what happened was we became very aware of the preciousness and impermanence of life. I think we re-evaluated what we were doing as a band. In pop music, one tends to stick to a formula. The way we've worked is through a natural process of improvisation, and allowing certain things to come out through the collective unconscious."

Over the years, the B-52's -- who splashed onto the scene in 1979 with the manic, sly "Rock Lobster" -- have become more serious-minded. Yes, campy humor, erotic teases and tales of UFOs still abound; Day-Glo surrealism is not dead and dance beats are still paramount. But the terms "wacky" and "kitschy" no longer define the B-52's. Environmentalism informs their ethos, and, with "Dreamland," on "Good Stuff," the B-52's crafted a contemplative song that suggests the possibility of a rewarding afterlife. So, how do the B's go about mixing the silly, the sexy and the sublime?

"I don't see them as separate at all," says Strickland. "They're different aspects of our personality base. The fun is important and that's really a birthright, to enjoy ourselves. We're losing the sense of who we are as humans, and I think it's important for humans to celebrate and have fun. At the same time, I've noticed that when I'm at my happiest, I'm more aware of the suffering around me."

Pierson: "We've always been involved with the yin and the yang of things. We always have this world's-going-to-hell-in-a-handbasket conversation before we start jamming. A lot of times {co-lead singer} Fred {Schneider} will bring in a stack of environmental magazines and we get all fired up and talk about how terrible things are and then we wind up laughing, so that ends the conversation. A strong element of the band is that we realize you have to see the big picture: Nothing is ever going to alleviate the suffering in the world. The best you can do is try to make things better . . . and have some sort of sense of humor about it. I think to even begin to make change you have to have a sense of optimism."

"We've always danced on the edge of the flames," she continues. "From early on, our songs have had that disastrous/humorous tone -- you know, the devil's in my car, volcanoes, things chasing us. That's mixed with a more spiritual, ethereal side and I think that's always one piece of the puzzle."

"I feel like we've matured," she summarizes. "In the beginning, it was more like `We're gonna do it! We're gonna have fun!' It was almost like, not desperate but a declaration, like `No one's gonna stop us!' I think now we realize we have more confidence in not worrying about the commercial aspects of what we do. I think we just feel like we're accepted. There's a good feeling about that: that people know who we are. We have fans and our fans have really hung in there no matter what."

I would say most of that still goes. The band released "Funplex" in 2008. And the party machine keeps on chugging.

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