As a favor to my wife, who in turn was performing a favor for her radio station, I attended the Leukemia Ball on Saturday. I spent a lot of the night hitching up the too-big pants on my rental tux, but also spent part of it watching…wait for it…Foreigner.

When the band last crossed my path some two years ago, I was attending a ’70s-band show at the big local music shed (go ahead and mock me now). Foreigner was the headliner and the weakest band of the night. Still, they were part of the soundtrack of my teenage years, and the teenage years of every single person I grew up with, so I did get some entertainment value from seeing the band.

Of course, as is so often the case with old rockers who slog along on a name and a paycheck, it was more than a bit disingenuous to have called that collection of musicians “Foreigner.” Guitarist Mick Jones was the only remaining founder when I saw the group two years ago and he looked very, very old (he’s 67 now).

Not even Jones made the Leukemia Ball gig — he had heart surgery a few weeks ago. But the musicians who showed up were genuinely talented, and the lead vocalist did a much better Lou Gramm impression than he did the last time I saw him. The One Percenters who raised millions of dollars for a very good cause seemed to enjoy the band well enough. But once again, the music snob in me wanted to make fun of this whole thing. And once again, I knew every word to every song.

On the way out of the Leukemia Ball, guests were given a recording of the band playing a concert at Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium. The Ryman is the original home of the Grand Old Opry and is the beating heart of American music on many levels.

That settled it for me: This band is irony-proof.

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