The last time I attended a true rock concert, my date nearly got into a shoving match with a girl whose tattoo looked like it had been applied by a branding iron.
My experience Thursday night, thankfully, was much more sublime. My date this time was my 7-year-old daughter, Ashley, and the artist was Miley Cyrus, whose tour hit the XL Center in Hartford.
In case you've been living on Neptune, Cyrus has overwhelmed the pop-culture scene in less time, it seems, than it takes Daisuke Matsuzaka to pitch three innings.
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In her Disney Channel TV show, “Hannah Montana,” she plays a young teen who lives a normal life by day, then puts on a wig and disguise, adopts the Hannah stage name and lives a separate life as a huge pop star.
It’s a cute, clever and funny show that also carries a tag parents understand.
It is "safe," with clean humor and good messages. That explains why parents and even grandparents were seen Thursday, shepherding young children (almost all of them girls) to a seating at the altar of their idol.
The idol did not disappoint. Cyrus got the "Hannah" role because Disney wanted someone who could not only act but sing, and you don't have to be a voice coach to feel the power in hers.
Beyond that, she is a tremendous entertainer whose 85-minute performance mixed music with non-stop, whiz-bang showmanship.
But enough of the concert review. My parental education began at the outset, when I asked a fellow adult if this show would be half-Miley, half-Hannah, like the TV show.
"No, it's all Miley," I was told. "I think she's leaving that Hannah stuff behind."
To me, this was like hearing, "I think Santa Claus is wintering in Orlando this year."
But I was not upset, because I was not surprised. From Shirley Temple to Jerry Mathers, child stars have struggled with the transition from cute kid to performing artist, all the while knowing a lot of fans don't all want to let the cute kid go.
Cyrus isn't struggling, because she has real, multiple talents – and, unlike child stars of years ago, a firm grip on her own career. This is just fine with my daughter, who said she loved all the new songs Thursday, even though we heard scant few of the old "Hannah" favorites.
Of course, old favorites in this case mean last February. Nor was Ashley fazed by Miley's new wardrobe or stage movements that were quite tame by average rock standards, but more suggestive than we've known from the Hannah model.
As a parent, I'm OK with that. If Cyrus' songs now carry increasingly mature themes, they remain clean in vocabulary and decent in meaning, which is important to a father who knows his daughter is actually listening to the words.
She also delivers messages, between songs or between shows, that I want Ashley to hear.
Rockers of my generation saluted the glory of getting stoned. Cyrus salutes the glory of cleaning up Planet Earth, being nice to people and so on.
She has made some gaffes along the way, offending people who are holding her to a standard I'm not sure is fair to a 16-year-old who lives in the public eye 24/7.
But any kid who deletes her Twitter account because she says she would rather live life than play on a computer is all right by me.
I was also not bothered by knowing that all night Thursday, I noticed only one ticket-holder I was sure was older than I am.
He had a cute grandchild, gray hair, and a suit. And earplugs.
Yo, dude, ain't you ready to rock this house like me?
Scoring tickets for the show has made me a hero in the household, not just with Ashley but with my wife, who also attended.
With the price of admission, though, came the inevitable parental discussion afterward. It centered on what a new, Hannah-free Miley might mean to kids - including ours - who adore her.
The lead-in act was a band headlined by Cyrus' brother, who looked determined to pull the Hartford tattoo economy out of the recession by himself.
Miley knew that for fans of her TV show, this might represent culture shock.
"It's all good. That's how rock stars look," she said.
Fortunately, my daughter is not a fan of body art, so I considered that a bullet dodged.
Besides, he and his band were pretty good, even if they gave rock to a crowd that had come expecting pop.
The show even taught my daughter a new word, "encore."
"It means you want the singer to come back," I explained, as fans chanted for a little more Miley at the end of the show.
"Come back! Come back!" Ashley began screaming, sounding more like someone who had left her purse on a PVTA bus as it pulled away.
Bottom line: I thought the show was fantastic. So did my daughter, and for the most part, so did my wife.
The undeniable theme, though, carried an undeniable and joy-tempering subplot. Miley Cyus, who turns 17 later this month, is growing up.
And if that is happening, it means my daughter, who arrived as a blessing when I was 46 years old, cannot be far behind.
My two previous father-daughter shows were "Dora The Explorer," and "My Little Pony." Those were about fantasy and adventure.
Cyrus' songs are about heartache, redemption and love. I say I'm ready for my daughter to grow up and face all this, but really, I'm not.
But in that regard, I thank Miley. Thursday's show, and the entire Hannah-Miley phenomenon, helps remind me that nothing stays the same, that the next step is not necessarily one to be feared, only anticipated.
Cyrus' signature song is still probably "Best of Both Worlds," which serves as the theme song (and the theme) from her show.
If I can attend a rock concert with my daughter, leave with the confidence that neither of us has been scarred for life, and know how precious and fleeting these moments are, I have the best of both worlds, too.
At least for now.
I think I'll just let Ashley enjoy the music, and not worry too much about the social ramifications or pitfalls of the future, at least until she hits third grade.