Every so often, when the city sleeps on a dreary Thursday night, and regulars head to their favourite watering holes in anticipation of a long, cold, wet weekend, an event transpires that may only be described as magical. Usually, attendance is less than capacity and in dim lighting and muted conversation an electricity grows in the room between its conspirators.
No one knows exactly what is about to happen; they are nervous, anxious and excited. The room grows to a static frenzy. Then the DJ, having timed his cues with the efficacy of an auditory Don Juanson, fires up “We Got the Beat” as a table of thirty-somethings attired completely in relics from the ’80s erupts in a conglomeration of perms and leg warmers.
In a mob-like frenzy, others jump up from their tables and move as a legion of Molly Ringwald doppelgangers. Hands shake wildly from hip to head and back again. The room moves in unison to the beat of the Go-Go’s, and one and all are thrust back into the 80’s-where they will be firmly lodged for the remainder of the night.
As the evening progresses, the multitude dances on, eagerly glancing towards the stage, waiting and anticipating Montreal’s (if not the world’s) greatest ’80s cover band of all time: Fantasy. Shortly after ten, the band, mere footsteps ahead of Hurricane Isabel, mounts the stage in an opulent show of ’80s notoriety. The group of seven-the likes of which Tom Thomson could never have fathomed-looks less like a band and more like a traveling museum: an oversexed ski bunny, a decadent crushed velvet Norwegian metal god, an agit-pop Devo enthusiast, a Talking Heads-meets-Lou Reed New York art scenester, and more smoke and lights than David Lee Roth could have imagined in his infancy.
As the lights go down, the mob slowly congregates near the stage, the ominous chords of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” filling the room. The singer, a Punky Brewster goddess, erotically shakes her hips, slowly but surely becoming the apparition of M.J. past. As the set progresses, the crowd erupts, singing and dancing to every song. After a tear-wrenching version of Prince’s “Purple Rain” (during which vocalist and bassist Ronnie calls one lucky girl up to the stage to slow-dance and chug a beer), the band takes a break.
The hour-long set has left the audience hungry for more, but DJD is ready for them, and begins a karaoke contest-the winner gets to join her newfound heroes onstage.
Show attendee Erin Malin, having spent her “formative years” in the 80’s, simply can’t resist the kitschy evening. Having styled her hair using nearly a whole bottle of hairspray, and wearing pumps and leg warmers, she can only recollect happy evenings spent watching Fame in her favourite Flashdance T-shirt. Her sister Carla, who was only 13 at the close of the decade, has come along as well, to “relive the horror of the ’80s” and the night she spent “crying, because I was unable to see the Corey Hart concert.”
Shortly after midnight, Fantasy returns in a blaze of blood, sweat, tears and polyester. As the set progresses, neither the band nor the crowd loses energy as they tear through renditions of A-Ha, Tears for Fears, Rick Springfield, Corey Hart and Devo. Ever the entertainers, the band calls to the stage karaoke winner ‘Angry Dan’ to front the band in an intense version of Rocky hit “Eye of the Tiger”. Met with an onslaught of exuberant fans, Dan hands the mike over to the audience and exuberant fist-pumping ensues. In retrospect, he can only characterize the experience as “the greatest moment of my life.” The set climaxes with the opening chords of “Footloose”, the audience celebrating the remembrance of Kevin Bacon and a beat-up old Volkswagen.
By two in the morning, the band is already four encores into the last magical moments of the night as fans scramble to call out the final song of the evening. Fantasy, always the appreciative collection of artistes, offers their final “Thank you, Toronto!” as the stage lights die and the sound system comes up to the triumphant melody of Tears for Fears “Shout”. As the wafts of stage smoke dissipate, the dance floor remains active, the group not wanting to end the greatest decade of their lives.
