Picture me at 11 years old around 1977, my ears perking and something in my musical soul going “toinnnnnng!!!” the first time I heard Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “What’s Your Name.”

This is good stuff, said I. I’ll have to look into it.

Southern rock, classic rock, hard rock, soft rock, any rock. I haven’t just looked into it, listened to it, collected it, studied it or played it in the countless garage-basement-attic bands I’ve been in.

I’ve devoured it.

Saturday night Lynyrd Skynyrd, one of the staples of my musical pantry, came to dinner in a big way at the Bangor Auditorium. And the no-nonsense band from Florida succeeded in feeding a huge, hungry, and generationally diverse crowd with its classic fare of just-folks rock ‘n’ roll that hasn’t lost one bit of its flavor.

A hard-driving, loud-and-proud appetizer in the form of one Ted Nugent got concert-goers primed, the Motor City Madman’s three-piece band coming out full-tilt and never letting up.

Sporting a handsome foxtail aft and noting he was “fueled on moosemeat” and charged to be playing for his “blood brothers in the wilds of Maine,” the notorius hunter-gatherer hit a bull’s-eye in a set that included such hits as “Free for All,” “Stranglehold,” “Cat Scratch Fever” and a closing breakneck version of “Great White Buffalo,” for which the Republican Party’s rockingest member donned a colorful Indian headdress. He may be older, he may be a conservative, he may not wear a loincloth and swing across the stage on vines anymore. But make no mistake: The NRA’s poster child for rock ‘n’ roll still plays a merciless guitar.

After intermission, during which security made cursory attempts to clear the aisles but had little luck, Lynyrd Skynyrd hit the stage with “Working for MCA,” following up immediately with “I Ain’t the One,” an opening lifted from the original band’s 1977 live album, “One More from the Road.” The Maine fans were instantly on their feet and stayed there.

The band veered from its time-honored standbys only once to play a newer tune, “Working,” before diving back into the vault of ’70s hits, including “I Know a Little,” which featured smooth slide guitar work by the animated Ricky Medlocke. Then came a rich medley of Skynyrd classics, comprising more-than-bite-sized morsels of “Searchin,” “Gimme Back My Bullets,” “On the Hunt” and “Tuesday’s Gone,” a sweet waltz that brought the lighters ablaze throughout the auditorium. Kicking it up a notch, Skynyrd tore into “What’s Your Name”; this pleased at least one fan, as the headstock of Medlocke’s guitar suddenly was adorned with a brassiere flung onto the stage.

Keeping up the momentum fueled by the crowd’s ravenous reception, the boys rifled off a hard-hitting rendition of “That Smell,” with Medlocke and fellow guitarist Hughie Thomasson pulling off a studio-perfect dual lead that marks the close of the song. The lighters were held high once again as the band brought the tempo down for a post-Mother’s Day tribute through “Simple Man,” made all the more powerful by guitarist Gary Rossington’s mournful, single-note feedback under Johnny Van Zant’s vocal in the last verse.

A thundering bass drum beat and Van Zant’s admonition, “Lemme hear ya!” snapped the crowd back into action as the band served up its bouncy barroom-brawl tale, “Gimme Three Steps” (this one’s for you, Brother Bob), followed by “Call Me the Breeze” – both fun, catchy and foot-stomping tunes stuffed with seriously tasty licks from the three-guitar army of Rossington, Medlocke and Thomasson.

Thomasson then took center stage for a guitar tangent peppered with biting, fret-hopping riffs straight from his Outlaws days, sliding effortlessly into Skynyrd’s Southern rock anthem “Sweet Home Alabama” as a huge Confederate-flag backdrop was unfurled laterally. The raucously appreciative Yankee crowd followed suit, waving smaller versions of the Stars ‘n’ Bars as once again Neil Young was given the musical what-for.

Leaving the crowd to digest “Sweet Home,” the majority of the band took a short breather, giving Billy Powell an opportunity to flex his modern-classical chops on a piano adorned with a sculpted golden eagle, the sure sign that Lynyrd Skynrd is about to bring the house down with its quintessential hit, “Freebird.” Rossington’s throaty, lilting slide guitar, complete with his traditional hunk of electrical wire lodged under the strings to raise them up for optimum tone, ground out the familiar refrain of the tune that put Skynyrd on the map nearly 30 years ago. Medlocke’s manic solo work when “Freebird” shifted into high gear invoked the spirit of the late Allen Collins, a founding Skynyrd member who singlehandedly invented the blazing guitar lead that launched the song to anthem status in the ’70s. No sweeter dessert could have been offered. After all, there is no other way to cap a Skynyrd show, and the Maine crowd drifted out of the auditorium sated.

Technical note: Being a bass player myself, my one complaint about an otherwise excellent sound mix was that the bass drum volume rendered Skynyrd bassist Leon Wilkeson’s driving rhythm nearly inaudible. His enviable array of hats, however, almost made up the loss.

Rebecca Bowden is a NEWS copy editor and amateur musician who has dreams of being Leon Wilkeson’s understudy.