If there’s a smell that can instantly throw you into the middle of a rock show, it’s that faint mix of summer air, spilled beer, and fried food drifting up to the lawn. By the time Joan Jett and the Blackhearts stormed the stage at Merriweather Post Pavilion on Friday, that haze hung low over Columbia, Maryland, like a stubborn ghost that wasn’t ready to leave. The crowd wasn’t ready to leave either. They’d packed themselves into the Pavilion with that buzzing energy that comes from knowing you’re about to see a living piece of rock and roll history still fighting, still snarling, still sounding like a razor through velvet.

Joan Jett doesn’t ease into anything, she kicks doors open — and she certainly kicked them open for Billy Idol as his opening act. The first jagged chords of “Victim of Circumstance” slammed through the speakers, and suddenly Merriweather didn’t feel like a picturesque suburban amphitheater anymore. It felt like a club, sweaty and mean, where the walls are dripping, and every word feels like it might burn a hole through you.