The 80s are Back

June 6, 2026. Birmingham Alabama. Iron City.  

The event: The Molly Ringwalds. "Experience the 80s"

Reader, it was evident looking around the crowd that almost everyone in attendance had already experienced the 80s, when they occurred 40 years ago.

My Mom and Her Friends

About six of my mom's friends were also at the concert.

"Your mom's a wild woman, Emily"

"How do you like Alabama?"

I like it, it's nice.

"Liar!"

"Watch out, Louise, you're going to spill a drink on someone's HEAD again!"

"Emily, how old are you? 26? OH you look beautiful!"

"Look at those fishnets you're wearing. Like Madonna"

When I got to the venue, I wasn't in the best mood. I was approaching the end of my rope, the end of my tolerance of Alabama. I ached for missing my perfect boyfriend. I was tired, since I was up so late the night before talking to aforementioned perfect boyfriend, which only made me miss him more. I wasn't being ornery, but I wasn't exactly high energy, either. For reference, six minutes before the band is due to start, they blast "Bohemian Rhapsody" through the speakers. I look around, I bob to the music, I do not sing along.

The Show Starts

At long last, the band comes onstage. Luckily, cover bands don't have opening acts. That would be funny. Just doing covers of a small local artist. Or, better yet, doing covers of the cover band you're about to see. 

Anyway, the show starts. A cover of Loverboy's "Working for the Weekend." I continue moving to the beat a little bit. In a sensitive style. However, we're standing in either an advantageous or disadvantageous position, depending on your view. My mom, her friends, and I are standing near center stage, only a few people back from the front. As a 5'8" woman in platform boots, surrounded by shorter women, in a crowd that is mostly shorter women, I stand out. And I am in the band's direct line of sight. The lead singer points at me, and gestures for me to smile: called out for being too low-energy during the very first song. My mom and her friends all find this hysterical and turn to laugh at me. For the rest of the show, whenever that guy is singing, I feel obligated to perform extra enthusiasm, for fear of getting a bad grade in audience etiquette. The stark contrast between the women around me and myself wasn't helping, either.

It's true. My mom is a wild woman. She was having the time of her life, jumping up and down and singing. She's thrashing her blonde curly hair around, getting dangerously close to the 13 year old kid behind us who was very clearly dragged there by their parents. (If anyone needed to be told to smile by the lead singer, it was them...)

 During the second song, either because I am smiling enough or maybe as a tactic to get me to smile enough for him, the lead singer looks me right in the eye again and throws me a drumstick. I catch it and tuck it into the inside pocket of my denim jacket.

Now I really need to look enthusiastic in case he looks at me again.

 The Band

 (from left to right) Guy who threw me a drumstick, bassist tearing up "I Love Rock and Roll," Drummer who came to the front to sing "Fight for Your Right to Party," and Devo Guy.

Being enthusiastic for the band ultimately did not prove difficult. They're all very talented. The aesthetic is somewhat baffling, though. Each member is dressed like a completely different archetypal 1980s musician. It's like a fruit salad of 1980s signifiers.

The most impressive part of the concert was the fact that the band members kept switching instruments. Every single one of them sang lead on at least two songs. Mr Drumstick moved between rhythm guitar, keyboard, lead vocals, and bass. 

The man dressed as Freddie Mercury sang, played keyboard, and played drums on a couple songs.

And so on and so forth.

You may notice I said "the man dressed as Freddie Mercury." While the other members of the band were dressed as 80s musician types, this guy was just dressed as Freddie Mercury, complete with a drawn on mustache. Whenever he sang, he did distinctly Freddie Mercury body language-- the way he holds the microphone, his posture, gesturing with the mic stand, strong gestures with a fist held out or pointing a finger. 

The real star of the show, for me, was Devo guy. I believe the rest of the band made him be Devo Guy so he wouldn't completely upstage them. He was the lead guitarist on every single song, and also the strongest singer. They were all very good, but Devo Guy blew them out of the water. His "Rebel Yell" was ridiculously good, and so was his "Separate Ways." And on top of that, he had a great guitar solo on "Purple Rain." He couldn't have all the glory, though, so I bet his bandmates made him wear the silly red Devo hat and jumpsuit.

 

Each member of the band had a fake name and persona. The strange thing, though, is that all (I think?) of these personae were English, with accents that resemble nothing that occurs naturally on this planet.

 

The singer who threw the drumstick to me was saying things like

"Give it up for the bass gee-tah!"

"I want to hear you singing. I don't want to sing it by meself" 

 

Sometimes his "o" vowels were accented in a kind of Alex-Turner-Arctic-Monkeys way, which is to say, from Sheffield I guess. But I think sometimes he would forget he was supposed to be doing that.

The accents had a similar level of realism to the bassist's hair-metal wig or Freddie Mercury guy's groucho-marx drawn-on mustache.

 

I'm being snarky, of course, but it was genuinely a fun time and a good show. After a few songs I did get into it. After all, what else can you expect at a show where they by definition ONLY play the hits?

 

We all went crazy to "99 Luftballons." English version, so, 99 Red Balloons, I suppose. The synth bass was great, and we were all jumping around.  

It reached a peak for me when they did "Under Pressure" near the end of the night. That is my song, and it's my boyfriend's and my go-to karaoke track, so it has extra importance. The singer did do a bunch of Freddy Mercury Live Aid call and response with the audience, to mixed success.

 

The End

 

The encore was "Sweet Child O Mine," which really got the crowd going. My mom wants a picture with the bassist, because his hair metal wig looks shockingly like my mom's real hair. Alas, the band disappear right after the show, so we do not know where to go to get a picture.

 We turn to leave, and my mom's friend Sherry turns to me and says

"No wonder the singer looked at you!"

She puts her finger on the bottom of my lace bra top.

Hm?

"No wonder the singer looked at you! You looked hot!"  

Certainly not because I was the tallest person in his direct line of vision. But you know what, I'll take it.

 

We make our way out. We consider buying merch. There's one cute cropped tank top with Molly Ringwald on it, with the text "THE MOLLY RINGWALDS .com" covering her eyes in a Sex Pistols-esque fashion. Without the .com I would've been tempted. The intrusion of online branding into even band merch could only make me think of this:

 

 

All in all, a successful and fun evening in downtown Birmingham.