Attention all you Summer of Love veterans and those of you who wish you hadn't missed the '60s. "Love, Janis," the Janis Joplin bio-musical on stage at Wilshire Theatre in Beverly Hills through Sunday, is the best 1960s acid-rock flash back in town.

I say that as someone who was at the Avalon Ballroom in San Francisco the night Janis made her debut with Big Brother and the Holding Company; who saw her on stage numerous times including her knock-out performance at the Monterey Pop Festival; and coincidentally was one of the last people to see her alive the night she died at the landmark Motel in Hollywood.

Her life is depicted in the 2006 musical conceived, adapted and directed by Randal Myler from the book of the same title, written by Laura Joplin, sister of the hard rocker from Port Arthur, Texas. And as the program points out, "The entire spoken text comes directly from her (Janis' actual letters and many press, radio and television interviews."

The show does take one clever liberty – it splits Janis in half.

At Thursdays opening- night performance, Mary Bridget Davies played rockin' Janis, belting out a succession of Joplin's greatest hist, including her unique take on "Summertime"; her ode to the road, "Me and Bobby McGee"; her pseudo gospel plea, "Mercedes Benz"; and signature kick-ass renditions of "Piece of My Heart," "Down on Me" and "Ball and Chain."

Davies represents the go-for-broke Janis, the explosive blues singer with a voice that could croon like velvet one moment and screech like a banshee the next. We see in her personality the impulsive, self-destructive, burn-the-candle-at-both-ends side of Janis.

In contrast, Marisa Ryan portrays the inner Janis, the ugly duckling social outsider who found mass acceptance on the stages of San Francisco's ballrooms, but whose success and hippie persona were consistently rejected by her family and childhood friends. This softer, gentler Janis is explicated through the poignantly sincere letters she wrote home to her mother and sister.

The story unfolds in chronological order, beginning with a family album of young Janis trying to fit into the buttoned-down cultural wasteland of Eisenhower-era Port Arthur. And even then, we discover, Joplin was a girl prone to self-distructive behavior.

We follow Janis to San Francisco (1966) where she hooks up with her hard-rock band, Big Brother and the Holding Company. We experience her debut performance, her meteoric rise to fame at the Monterey Pop Festival, her break with Big Brother and her self-destructive craving for booze, sex and drugs.

Both actresses are superb in their roles. Raw-boned Ryan projects a sensitive image of Janis as the desperate kid who becomes a San Francisco rock queen but never finds the emotional satisfaction she craves.

Davies is all flesh, flash and trash as Janis, mama of the blues, complete with all of the moves, energy and explosive singing charisma that made Joplin a star.

And in the numbers such as "Ball and Chain," the re-creation is so uncanny – you can almost believe it's Janis reincarnated.

"Love, Janis" also works because the music is played with the intensity it requires by hard-rocking musicians Eric Massimino (bass), Mark Alexander (keyboards) Ben Nieves (guitar), Jim Wall (drums) and Tim Braun (guitar).

Janis' siganature thrift-store couture is re-created by costume designer Lorraine Venberg. The psychedellic rock palace effects are S.F. light show veteran Bill Ham.

Janis Lyn Joplin dies Oct. 4, 1970 at the age of 27. Her body was found in a motel about five miles from where "Love, Janis" is now playing. It would be nice to think, wherever she is, "Pearl" could hear the music she made famous.