This was the late night wild party for people with a 9 p.m. bedtime.
The last I really thought of Boy George and Culture Club was in the 1980s and I was a teenager both enjoying their music and shocked to see a man wearing makeup and clothing that flowed like dresses do.
Fast forward four decades and like a slap on the face, here I am at the other side of life, on the fast lane to being an old lady, come to see a 64-year-old Boy George whose style is no longer shocking, but rather, kind of tame compared to what we’ve been seeing in society during these modern days. My friend and I were in the Pantheon (boy is that name an ambitious stretch – it’s a big room with 2,500 regular chairs lined up in rows) in the Danville casino Sunday night to see the concert.
The concert started at 6 p.m. and was over by 8 p.m. but for a while we felt like we were partying at midnight.
In the 1980s, Culture Club brought soulful pop-reggae beats with new age flavor to the bubblegum Top 40 era. It also broke cultural barriers with having members of different races and religions, and led by a gay man, to boot. With his flowing robes, long hair in braids and over-the-top makeup, Boy George was the Liberace of pop.
In the 1980s, that group was multi-cultural, back when “multi-cultural” was a new word. In fact, on stage between songs Sunday night, Boy George said a few things about how the band from the beginning has encouraged acceptance of varied cultures. (Big paraphrase there, because I was laughing and dancing with my friend, not taking notes.)
In the decades since, the word “multi-cultural” has given way to “diversity and inclusion.” In a very nerd-like way, I looked up on a newspaper search engine how the word “multi-cultural” was used – 921 times in the 1960s, 27,000 times in the 1980s, to a high of more than 100,000 times in the 1990s and down to a low of 5,300 times in this past decade. “Diversity and inclusion” written exactly that way showed up 20 times in the 1980s, gradually increasing to more than 94,000 times in this decade. How times have changed, and we were part of that particular change from the get-go, and Culture Club led the way.
The Pantheon at the Danville Casino was – well, maybe not jumping, but at least swaying back and forth somewhat. The audience, mostly well beyond middle age, bopped around in rhythm. Many were dressed in as close to ’80s look as they probably find and fit into at this point in time.
In its heyday, the band was popular mostly among girls and gay guys. The Danville audience definitely had plenty of women and gay men, but this time around, also lots of husbands who were waving their arms back and forth to the sound with as much enthusiasm as their wives.
My friend and I left our assigned seats for an empty spot a few rows back. That gave us space to push away the chairs around us to give us some dancing room.
Many people were dressed like a 1980s Boy George – colorful flowing clothes, heavy makeup (men too), hair (long when possible) topped by whimsical hats.
One such fellow, big-bellied, balding and bold in a flowing outfit and with dramatic makeup, sat 15 or 18 rows back from the stage. He looked earnest and emotional and thrilled to be singing and dancing along with, clearly, his idol.
At the last song, “Karma Chameleon,” Boy George leaned down from the stage and greeted and touched hands with some of the audience.
We could get a close-up view of the action by watching either one of the two wide screens on the sides of the stage. On that, we saw the camera zoom in to that big-bellied boldly dressed Boy George lookalike standing in front of the stage. Boy George crouched down and reached his hand out. The two men – the fan and the idol – held hands in a prolonged greeting.
This fan was a man you could easily imagine being socially awkward. He wouldn’t seem to fit in. He may have had a lonely childhood. Boy George’s music – the lyrics and messages of his song — and Boy George’s unique look that did not conform to what society expected probably offered this man, when he was a teenager trying to figure out his place in a confusing, sometimes hostile, world, solace and a feeling of belonging – at least somewhere.
It was a truly powerful moment. Even from the screen, you could feel the magic of that connection.
The camera followed the lookalike fan as, beaming from ear to ear, he walked back to his seat in the 15th or 18th row back, while applause sounded and the band and the singer said their goodbyes.
