With its day-glo fashions, big hair, and imbibing in excesses of all sorts, the ’80s are an easy target for derision. But those traits are simply symptomatic of a decade in which it was acceptable to go to extremes, a quality that helped create some great pop culture. Sure, sometimes style was put before substance, but being mindful of such aesthetics also insured that whatever it was being created might be, it wouldn’t be boring. And sure, new wave might have just been watered down punk for the masses, but it was also an avenue for pop to get creative and weird, thus allowing for songs that were both catchy and artful to varying degrees.

As with all decades past, nostalgia for the ’80s has been running at a fevered pitch for some time now, with bands of every stripe packaged together for tours designed to cash in. As such, it would have been easy to dismiss the Retro Futura Tour as another such attempt, however looking at the line-up, it was easy to see that these generally weren’t artists who would drag the average 40-something year-old away from Miami Vice reruns.

Of all the acts on the bill Katrina (of Katrina and the Waves) was the only act whose commercial and/or critical success was confined to one-hit status. She was finishing up her set with that hit (“Walking on Sunshine”) by the time I had made my way into the Best Buy Theater. Afterwards, she departed while the majority of the backing band remained onstage to play with Gary Daly and Eddie Lundon, the core of China Crisis, who took to the stage almost immediately. Though the Liverpudlian band had only minor commercial success in the United States, there was a palpable excitement in the crowd (punctuated by one particularly burly man shouting “China Crisis!” at the top of his lungs). The band’s soulful pop was equal parts Bryan Ferry and OMD and visually not without a fashion sense, so it was a little surprising when singer Daly appeared in a kaftan and Birkenstocks. Maybe it was an effort to put the focus on the music, but you would think he’d have packed a pair of pants. Still, it detracted little from the band’s set, which only lacked in length. Their run through such songs as “Arizona Sky” and “Wishful Thinking” was one of the highlights of the night.

Midge Ure (pictured above), a former member of Ultravox and, before that, Visage, came on immediately following, and his set contrasted sharply from the preceding one. Leading off with Ultravox’s “Hymn,” his performance was full of bombast and guitar bravado, which overpowered the synth accents that were more prominent in several songs’ original forms. Ure recently released a new solo album so it was surprising that he didn’t try out any of the new material, but instead favored the Ultravox catalog (“Vienna” and the set-closing “Dancing with Tears in My Eyes”) and even played a Visage track, “Fade to Grey.” He seemed to try to pack as much gusto as possible into his short performance, and what it lacked in nuance, it made up for in energy.

The longest break came between Ure and co-headliner Howard Jones (pictured right), as Jones’ wouldn’t be using the backing band of the first half of the show. Instead, he was simply flanked by a keyboardist and drummer (on an electronic kit, of course). Though his hair isn’t as big as it once was, HoJo, as he’s known by his fans, perhaps still best epitomizes the ’80s. In his heyday, he blended synthesized ingenuity with irresistible pop hooks and lyrics that encapsulated more than simple lovey-dovey emoting. Following an intro of “The Human Touch,” it was one hit after another: “Like to Get to Know You Well,” “Everlasting Love,” “No One Is to Blame,” “What Is Love?” By the time, Jones got to “Things Can Only Get Better,” the crowd was singing every refrain along with him. Otherwise, though, the songs were replicated with their original versions’ synthesized melodies and decoupage. He finished with “New Song,” a track that reflected the new age optimism of the times in which it was written and a suitable ending punctuation mark.

For the final act, Tom Bailey (pictured top) emerged with an all-female band to play a set of Thompson Twins songs—songs that he hadn’t played in 20-some years. Continuing to make music, Bailey has perhaps wanted to distance himself from his former outfit (and questionable hairstyles). But though the Thompson Twins were a hit-making machine, there’s much merit to be found in their records. He began with “In the Name of Love” and “Lies,” before digging deeper for “Sister of Mercy” and “You Take Me Up.” The synth ballad “If You Were Here” (famous for its use in John Hughes’ Sixteen Candles) was rendered resplendently before Bailey finished with “Doctor! Doctor!” He returned for an encore of “King for a Day” and, of course, “Hold Me Now,” which sorely lacked its famous backing refrains, but was otherwise a fitting finale. Bailey showed that the dust has hardly settled on his catalog as it reverberated vibrantly these decades later. Similarly, taken as a whole, this idiosyncratic bill showed what remains distinct about the ’80s and its music. Though having some influences in common, each act was wildly different, their overlapping pop sensibilities notwithstanding. More than mere nostalgia, this night showed that the creative sparks that drove the era remain bright.