Singing From A Chair At 75, Ann Wilson Showed What Real Strength Sounds Like
Richmond felt like it was holding its breath all day for this one. December 17, 2025 had that sharp Virginia cold outside, but the energy around Altria Theater was warm and restless, like everyone arrived early just to be closer to the moment. It wasn’t a casual weeknight crowd. It was the kind of audience that treats Heart like a personal soundtrack, where people can tell you exactly where they were the first time they heard a chorus and exactly who they were with when it finally made sense.
Altria Theater is built for a show like this, because it makes rock feel cinematic instead of chaotic. You can sense the room tighten as it fills, the way a theater crowd listens differently than an arena crowd. Doors were set for 6:30 PM and the night was scheduled for 7:30 PM, which gave people time to settle into their seats, roam the lobby, and trade “what do you hope they play?” predictions like it was part of the ritual. Even the pre-show minutes had that quiet buzz that says something important is coming.
There’s also a certain “event” feel with Altria on nights like this. Some fans leaned into the premium side, treating it like a celebration—Lexus Lounge access was even advertised as an add-on, the kind of detail that signals you’re not just attending a concert, you’re making a night out of it. But the best part was how mixed the crowd felt: longtime fans who lived through the first waves of Heart’s dominance, and newer listeners who came to witness what the reputation is about in real time.
When the lights finally dropped, Heart didn’t waste time easing into it. They opened with “Bebe Le Strange,” and it immediately shifted the room from chatter to focus. That opening song has a forward drive that works like a handshake and a warning at the same time: we’re here to play, and we’re here to hit hard. You could feel the audience lock in, shoulders lifting, heads nodding, people smiling because the sound was big enough to fill the theater without losing detail.
“Never” followed, and it landed like a reminder that Heart’s catalog isn’t just classic, it’s bulletproof. There’s a confidence to that song that translates instantly live, especially when a crowd knows the words but still wants to be surprised by how strong it feels in the moment. The band’s pacing made it feel urgent without rushing, and the room reacted the way it always does when something familiar suddenly sounds fresh again—like it’s happening to you now, not back then.
By the time “Love Alive” and “Little Queen” rolled in, the set started to feel like a story being told in chapters. “Love Alive” has that dramatic rise that pulls you into the Heart universe, and “Little Queen” keeps the momentum moving with this proud, defiant energy. In a theater, you notice how tightly the band holds the dynamics—when they push, it’s powerful; when they leave space, it’s intentional. That control is what separates a legacy act from a living one.
“These Dreams” changed the temperature in the room. You could feel the crowd soften without losing attention, like the whole place leaned back into memory at the same time. It wasn’t rowdy singing just to prove you know the lyrics; it was the kind of sing-along that sounds like relief. People were mouthing lines to themselves, couples squeezed hands, and you could hear that gentle ripple of voices across the seats that makes a theater performance feel personal.
Then “Crazy on You” snapped everything back into motion. That song always hits like adrenaline, because it carries both virtuosity and attitude, and the audience reacts like they’ve been waiting for the exact second it kicks in. You could see heads whipping toward the stage, phones coming up for a quick capture, and that shared grin people get when a band delivers the real thing. It’s one of those songs that proves Heart can be elegant and ferocious without changing who they are.
“Dog & Butterfly” brought the show into a more reflective space, and it felt perfectly timed. Instead of feeling like a breather, it felt like a centerpiece—one of those moments where the room gets quieter because the emotion does the heavy lifting. The beauty of Heart live is that they can slow the tempo without draining intensity. The song held the crowd in a calm grip, and the applause afterward felt like respect, not just excitement.
“Going to California” arrived like a hush falling over the theater. Heart’s Zeppelin choices always feel like they’re honoring the spirit, not just the notes, and that makes people listen differently. There’s a reverence in how the audience responds, because it becomes less about “cover” and more about atmosphere. In Richmond, it had that late-night campfire feeling, even under stage lights, and it connected like the room suddenly remembered how powerful a simple, well-sung moment can be.
“4 Edward” was one of the night’s most human moments, because it carried a dedication to Eddie Van Halen and it was performed as a Nancy Wilson solo acoustic feature. That kind of tribute changes the air in the room—fans don’t just hear a song, they hear a message. You could sense people appreciating the tenderness of it, how it wasn’t forced or overly sentimental. It felt like a quiet salute from one guitarist’s world to another, delivered with taste and heart.
“Magic Man” came in next, and it had a little extra drama built into it: the performance included an extended drum solo intro. That kind of setup is pure theater, because you feel the anticipation build before the riff even lands. When it finally drops, the crowd reaction is immediate, like a switch flips and everyone is suddenly fully awake again. In a venue like Altria, that pulsing groove feels almost hypnotic, and you can hear every layer lock together.
“You’re the Voice” gave the set a lift that felt communal. Even if not everyone walked in expecting a cover, it’s the kind of song that invites the whole room to participate, and that’s exactly what happened. The chorus energy spreads fast, especially in a seated theater where people still find a way to turn the moment into movement—clapping, singing, leaning forward, smiling at strangers. It felt like Heart intentionally placed it there to turn the crowd into a single voice for a few minutes.
Then “The Rain Song” pushed the mood into something deeper and more cinematic. Another Zeppelin cover, but again, handled with that Heart sense of drama and restraint. It’s a song that asks for patience, and the Richmond audience gave it. You could feel the theater listening, not just watching, because the dynamics and emotional arc are the whole point. That’s the difference between a setlist and a journey: the band trusts the audience to stay with them through a slower burn.
“Straight On / Let’s Dance” brought the room back into swagger, and it also served as a moment of connection because it included band introductions. That’s always a key part of the live experience—putting names and faces to the sound that’s been carrying the night. The energy felt celebratory there, like the show had already delivered enough to satisfy, but still had a major statement left in the chamber. People were clapping like they already knew they’d be talking about this set tomorrow.
And then it arrived: “Alone / What About Love,” performed as a pairing that felt like the emotional spine of the night. You could sense the shift before the first line, because those songs carry decades of history in a single breath. “Alone” hits people in the private places, the part of you that remembers longing and distance, while “What About Love” turns that feeling outward into a shared anthem. In Richmond, it felt like the entire theater became one big chorus without losing the intimacy.
After a moment like that, the show didn’t fade gently—it kept its momentum with purpose. “River” (a Joni Mitchell cover) followed, and it worked like an emotional exhale, a softer landing after the big, towering medley. And when the encore hit, Heart chose a finish that felt like a declaration: “The Ocean” (Zeppelin again, loud and confident) and then “Barracuda,” the ultimate closer that sends people out buzzing. Even the tape-out choice, “Right Red Hand,” felt like a dark little wink as the night closed at about 9:15 PM.
