Las Vegas Mixtape v22: Pizza Paradise, ‘80s Music Mania, and Mickey Hart’s Rhythmic Pulse

Track #2: Howard Jones, ABC, Haircut One Hundred @Theater at Virgin Hotels

The early-to-mid ‘80s were alive and well at the Theater at Virgin Hotels for the dream bill of Howard Jones, ABC, and Haircut One Hundred: three British “New Wave” artists who are united by their tight songcraft, buoyant pop melodies, and percolating rhythms.

Their music was the soundtrack for that era’s general optimism—and all three artists came across infectiously in front of an adoring crowd looking for safe harbor from this mad political season.

Headliner Jones, armed with his “keytar,” hit the stage like Elton John in an oversized pink overcoat and flashy sunglasses. The music was upbeat—with bright-sounding synths and electronically fired drums—and his vocals easily sailed into the upper register.

Impressively, Jones’ voice movingly embodies the hope and melancholy of his big hits “Things Can Only Get Better,” “What Is Love,” and “No One Is To Blame.”  Performing an urgent version of “Human” by Vegas’ favorite sons, The Killers, was a smart touch to fully own the crowd.

ABC’s ringleader Martin Fry, looking as debonair as David Bowie and Bryan Ferry, was vocally captivating from start to finish. The band was greeted with thunderous applause for nearly every neo-soul pop hit they played, including “The Look of Love,” “Be Near Me,” and the pointed “The Night You Murdered Love.”

One particular set highlight was Fry’s fabulously wry “How To Be A Millionaire.” Its lyrics are as relevant as ever: “I’ve seen the future, I can’t afford it/Tell you the truth, sir, someone just bought it.”

Openers Haircut One Hundred filled their short set with the cheery and funky pop hits from their only album, “Pelican West.” Having seen them perform in 1982, the year the album was released, it was exhilarating to hear the reunited Nick Heyward-fronted band dive into “Love Plus One,” “Favourite Shirts (Boy Meets Girl), and “Fantastic Day”—complete with their perfectly executed horn parts and scratchy guitar rhythms—like time didn’t skip a beat.

Long live the ‘80s.