“Bananarama, they were huge.” My dad says when I tell my parents about my latest assignment. “Bananarama?” My mum has no idea, she grew up in soviet Russia, where Western stars were not as widely celebrated. But when I sing the chorus of ‘Venus’ it all comes back to her and she recalls dancing to the song in sweaty discotheques back in the day. She laughs that she and her friends would call the song ‘Shizgales’ as not understanding English at the time, that’s how they misheard “She’s got it” and they wondered what this bizarre English word could possibly mean.
This show is not just about Bananarama, although they are the headliners. The fifth annual 80s Classical is a celebration of the decade itself and includes an impressive roster of stars that define that era: Johnny Hates Jazz, Midge Ure of Ultravox, Deniece Pearson of Five Star as well as Bananarama themselves.
I arrive at Millennium Square and energy is high, 80s music fills the air and it’s one timeless pop hit after another, anything from ‘Together in Electric Dreams’ to ‘This Charming Man.’ Already, attendees are dancing and singing along. Many people, mainly women, are dressed in an 80s style, hair teased higher to heaven and tied up with bandanas, bright graphic earrings and heavy blue eyeshadow. Absolutely nobody seems the least bit bothered about the rain. Clear ponchos are pulled out of handbags and draped over pink neon jumpsuits, then the dancing continues.
The compere gets onstage and asks us if we’re up for a party tonight. We all cheer in the affirmative. He assures us that the tunes we are about to hear are going to get us on our feet. Not a hard job as it is a mostly standing event. He hands the stage over to the Orchestra of Opera North, led by Cliff Masterson, the conductor and arranger, and they thunder into an exciting rendition of ‘Can you Feel It’ originally by The Jacksons but sung phenomenally here by Adetoun Anibi whose powerful yet joyous voice fully matches the grandeur of the orchestral arrangement.
Johnny Hates Jazz, then energetically performs ‘Turn Back the Clock’, a song about longing to go back in time to when ‘life was so much better’. It’s an apt choice, I think many people here tonight have the same wish. It’s all brought to a crescendo by a magnificent saxophone solo.
Orchestras have a reputation of being stuffy and serious, but that could not have been further from the case here. The violinists mouth along to the lyrics of the songs as they play, unable and unwilling to wipe jubilant grins from their faces. When the singers aren’t performing, they simply enjoy listening to the orchestra, themselves floored at the might of the music as well as the talent of the artists performing their greatest hits.
Deniece Pearson gives an especially impressive rendition of ‘Can’t Wait Another Minute’ followed by ‘The Slightest Touch’. Her voice is stronger and more assured than the original 80s recordings. I would go as far as saying she belts some of the best live vocals I have ever heard. Cliff Masterson may well agree with me – I see him shake his head in awe several times during her set.
After a masterclass of 80s passion and theatricality courtesy of Midge Ure and his deft guitar solos, two microphones are placed on stage alerting us that Bananarama are next.
There are only two microphones now, Siobhan left the group all the way back in 1988, but it’s still a slightly sore spot for some fans here tonight. “It’s a shame Siobhan’s not playing because she’s gone.” Says Tony, one member of the audience who says Bananarama are the act he’s most excited to see. But he’s not too upset, “It’s still the same.”
I asked Bananarama fans what their appeal was and the answers were mostly the same: the fashion, the fun and the attitude. “They were just really cool girls, because of the way they looked, You know, they had a bit of edge to them.” Says Helen. Her sister Catherine agrees, “We all wanted to look like Bananarama.”
It’s the look that they perhaps don’t quite live up to when they make their entrance. The orchestra plays Sara Dallin and Keren Woodward in with music fit to accompany a couple of Disney princesses. They are dressed all in black with sequined trousers that shimmer under the stage lights. A woman in front of me turns to her husband and says, with slight disdain, “They’re not very girly are they?” But this criticism seems instantly forgotten the moment they break into ‘Robert DeNiro’s Waiting’. Their sound has not changed from the eighties – their voices have the same soft, melodic refrain with a distinct English twang that originally made their sound unique. Soon, everyone is waving their arms back and forth and it feels like someone really has turned back the clock.
The song over, Keren and Sara give themselves a brief moment to take it all in. “You are majestic.” Sara says, smiling wide.
They then begin ‘I Heard a Rumour’, another discotheque classic my mum remembers, and while singing they treat us to the same ‘armography’ they performed in the original music video, windmilling their arms and pointing to the sky
At face value, what Bananarama does seems simple. Their dancing isn’t anything complicated, indeed I’m sure this routine is muscle memory to them by now; their voices are not the most powerful, nor are they pulling out any complex vocal harmonies, but despite this, they have a quality to them that makes it impossible to stand still or look away. I don’t know if it’s the energy or cheeky confidence, the way they seem to lean into the silliness of it all, but something about them is undeniably cool. I can see why people were drawn to them and why their fans continue coming back. Stuart, a self proclaimed superfan, says it best, “I think because they’re such great friends so when you see them live, it’s not like watching any other band who are kind of performing to an audience; they’re just like playing for their mates and it’s great, great fun.”
This view of playing for their mates fits perfectly with the atmosphere tonight. While people are excited to see Bananarama, for the most part it’s not really out of reverence for them, or any of the artists on tonight, it’s about celebrating their youth and what this music and, by extension, the eighties meant to them. When I asked Helen what she thought of Bananarama’s current work she said, “I wouldn’t know, love. We’re in a time warp.” Nowhere is this clearer than when I wait in the queue for the toilet, people dance and sing to the tunes playing from the sound system with just as much fervour as they did for the live performances with ‘Give a Little Respect’ by Erasure being a favourite. As Emma says, “I just think this kind of music brings everyone together. It gets everyone up and dancing and having a good time.”
Johnny Hates Jazz is back and he begins by asking “Who wants to see peace in the world?” The response is so tepid he has to ask us again. So that’s not a resounding yes to peace on Earth. But when he sings ‘I Don’t Want To Be A Hero’ the crowd is fully invested in the song. Quite ironically, the orchestra’s next number is ‘I Need a Hero.’ By now it’s dark; the rain long gone and forgotten, the colourful lights from the stage along with a sea of neon glow bracelets worn by audience members really creates a club atmosphere. Deniece is back and treats us to a fantastic rendition of ‘System Addict.’ Her second set done, she laughs infectiously and passes us the highest compliment, “I love you, Leeds; you’re so real.”
Midge Ure, guitar in hand, performs ‘Vienna’, his most iconic song. The audience is quiet for this one, but it’s not for lack of enjoyment. When it’s over, the applause is rapturous. Most likely this was a number people really wanted to listen to, and Midge does it justice.
The Disney intro music comes back and so, too, does Bananarama. Armography in full swing, they whisk us into a ‘Cruel Summer,’ with vocals that sound unchanged from the eighties. Attendees clap along and the party energy is restored.
Keren and Sara are thrilled, with Sara saying “It’s such a privilege to be here. This is one of my favourite things I’ve ever done.” They then banter with the audience a little, with Keren making a few jokes about her age. As they start ‘Love in the First Degree’ one man behind me shouts “Yes! Come on!” Clearly, this was his most anticipated song.
Afterwards, the pair thank us for a great night and exit the stage. We are slightly affronted. After all, they haven’t played the song yet. Perhaps sensing this vitriol, barely a minute passes before the ladies are back on. The Orchestra begins the familiar opening chords of ‘Venus’. They play them once, twice, three times and then all over again, making us wait for it, building up the tension and energy before finally the bass line thunders in and “The goddess on the mountaintop!” I cannot count how many hands go up in the air. Both men and women alike, the nostalgia is too powerful for even the most stoic men to resist belting “She’s got it!” At the top of their voices.
I have a train to catch and, wanting to miss a pile up at the exits, I begin winding my way through the crowd. As I reach the outer circles, I see couples holding each other close, sharing passionate kisses while the music fills the night sky. I see countless pairs of women dancing like girls with unabashed joy, performing Bananarma’s choreography in time. The whole night has been leading up to this song and everyone is making the most of it.
If a band is lucky, they will get one song like this, a song that will get everyone dancing no matter age, setting or occasion, ‘Venus’ is Bananarama’s and they wear it with pride. A cover of a song by a psychedelic rock band from the 1960s, this being a testament to the group being heavily influenced by that swinging decade: the girl groups, Motown and of course rock and roll. It’s all represented in this song; everything that makes them Bananarama.
“Venus was her name, WOAH!” The song ends as I make my way out, “Thank you so much; we’ve loved every minute.” Sara says exuberantly. The applause they receive should assure her the feeling is mutual.
All photography by Maddie Armstrong.
