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Turns House of Blues Into an ’80s Reunion
August 2nd, 2026 Review by Shane Pase
There are nostalgia tours that feel like carefully packaged trips through the past, and then there are nights when the past simply walks into the room, orders a drink, and starts dancing beside you.
The Totally Tubular Festival landed at House of Blues Anaheim on July 23rd with seven bands, a few dozen beloved songs, and a crowd that clearly did not need much encouragement to turn the floor into an ’80s dance party. The bill featured Thomas Dolby and the Lost Toy People, A Flock of Seagulls, Bow Wow Wow, The Producers, Animotion, The Escape Club, and Tommy Tutone – a lineup that looked a lot like several hours of classic KROQ programming brought to life.
These kinds of festivals depend on momentum. Each band gets a relatively short window to make its case, play the songs people came to hear, and hand the energy off to the next act. There is no room for a slow build or a 20-minute drum solo. Hit the stage, plug in, get people moving, and get out.
Tommy Tutone understood the assignment.
Frontman Tommy Heath opened the evening with a loose, upbeat set that naturally worked its way toward the combination of seven digits everyone in the building already knew. When “867-5309/Jenny” finally arrived, the audience did not merely sing the chorus – they shouted the phone number back like they had been waiting 40 years for someone to ask.
That familiar number now has a much more meaningful purpose. Dialing 1-272-867-5309—the area code spelling out “CSC”—connects callers with the Cancer Support Community’s free national helpline. The program, supported by Heath and developed with the Cancer Support Community and its Gilda’s Club network, provides information, emotional support, and resource guidance from trained specialists to people affected by cancer.
It is a pretty rad second life for one of pop music’s most famous phone numbers. What began as something people scribbled on walls, called as a prank, and screamed during karaoke has become a direct line to someone who can actually help.
The Escape Club followed and immediately raised the pulse of the room. Their set was quick, bright, and loaded with personality. This was not a band standing stiffly behind microphones and hoping nostalgia would do the heavy lifting.
They worked the stage, played to the crowd, and brought enough energy to make their limited time feel like a full appearance rather than an abbreviated festival slot.
Naturally, “Wild, Wild West” was the big payoff. The song’s chant, groove, and oversized attitude were built for a room like this. As soon as it kicked in, people were bouncing, dancing, and shouting along. It was totally impossible to hear it live without remembering why it became such a defining late-’80s hit in the first place.
Animotion kept the momentum going and delivered one of the strongest sets of the night.
Astrid Plane and Bill Wadhams still know how to create tension onstage. Their chemistry has always been central to Animotion’s appeal, and it remains there in the glances, smiles, playful movements, and back-and-forth vocal delivery.
It is part performance, part flirtation, and part reminder that the best ’80s pop often came with a little drama baked into it.
When “Obsession” began, House of Blues turned into one large choir. The verses pulled people in, but the chorus belonged to the crowd. It was one of those moments when you could stop watching the stage for a few seconds and look around the room instead – friends singing at one another, couples dancing, strangers joining in – because everybody knew every word.
The Producers were next, and their set offered something slightly different. For anyone familiar mainly with “What’s He Got,” the band provided a quick introduction to the rest of its catalog. Several of the lesser-known songs landed immediately, driven by strong hooks and the kind of sharp power-pop construction that makes you wonder how more of them did not become major hits.
Of course, “What’s He Got” was the one longtime fans were waiting for. The opening notes drew an immediate response, and the band played it with enough bite and enthusiasm to keep it from feeling like an obligatory visit to the oldies bin. The crowd wanted the song, and The Producers delivered it without fuss.
Bow Wow Wow took the stage next, appearing on one of the select tour dates where the band was scheduled to fill the spot held by The Motels on most of the festival run. Anaheim was one of those dates, and Annabella Lwin made the alternate lineup feel like anything but a compromise.
She remains an endlessly animated performer, crossing the stage, engaging with the audience, dancing through the songs, and flashing a wide smile that made it clear she was having at least as much fun as anyone on the floor. Her energy was infectious without feeling forced. She did not perform at the audience as much as invite everyone into the set.
Bow Wow Wow’s mix of new wave, pop, percussion, and punk attitude gave the show an extra jolt. Lwin rarely stopped moving, and the crowd followed her lead. Totally fun, totally loose, and for sure one of the most entertaining sets of the evening.
A Flock of Seagulls was next, and for many people in the building – including this writer – the set carried a little extra weight.
Mike Score remains the unmistakable center of the band, both visually and musically, and his voice continues to fit these songs remarkably well. A Flock of Seagulls packed its set with the expected favorites while leaving enough space for fans who know the catalog beyond the biggest singles.
The band’s music has always sounded more substantial live than its image sometimes gets credit for. Beneath the synthesizers and unmistakable ’80s production are strong guitar lines, driving rhythms, and songs that can fill a room without depending entirely on nostalgia.
Drummer Kevin Rankin was especially fun to watch. He played with power throughout the set, hitting hard while maintaining a huge grin behind the kit. Some musicians project intense concentration. Rankin looked like a guy who could not believe he was allowed to have this much fun at work.
And yes, I am still waiting for “Committed” to appear in the set. Maybe someday, right Mike? Totally! For sure.
Thomas Dolby closed the show with the Lost Toy People, but his performance was not structured as a simple greatest-hits victory lap. He gave the audience “Europa and the Pirate Twins” and, of course, “She Blinded Me With Science,” while devoting a large portion of the set to his 1988 album “Aliens Ate My Buick.”
That album marked a sharp turn away from the sleek synth-pop most casual listeners associate with Dolby. Funk, jazz, brass, rhythm, and a wonderfully odd sense of humor moved to the front. For this tour, Dolby reunited with the Lost Toy People to revisit much of that material in a full-band setting.
Songs such as “The Key to Her Ferrari” and “My Brain Is Like a Sieve” gave the set a lively, unpredictable feel. Rather than using the band as decoration around keyboards and backing tracks, Dolby allowed the musicians and brass arrangements to drive the performance. The result was funkier, warmer, and considerably stranger than a standard synth-pop nostalgia set.
Dolby also pointed out that he was wearing the same suit he wore during the original “Aliens Ate My Buick” era. Checking online images from back in the day – and the way he still confidently carried it – confirmed that claim. Too cool!
By the time “She Blinded Me With Science” arrived, the audience had been dancing and singing for hours, but somehow still found another gear. It was the obvious song to end on, but obvious does not mean ineffective. Sometimes everyone simply wants to shout “Science!” together, and there is nothing wrong with that.
The most enjoyable part of the Totally Tubular Festival was how little separation there seemed to be between the people onstage and the people watching them. After their sets, members of several bands appeared around the venue, taking photos, talking with fans, and watching the other performers. They were not disappearing immediately into private dressing rooms or waiting vehicles. They were hanging out, dancing, and enjoying the same songs as everyone else.
That changed the entire character of the evening.
The more of these shows I cover, the less they feel like traditional concerts and the more they feel like reunions with old friends – even when most of those friends have never actually met. The artists know what these songs mean to the audience, and the audience seems genuinely grateful that the artists are still willing to come out and play them.
Nobody needed to pretend it was 1983 again. It was 2026, the crowd was older, the bands were older, and everyone was perfectly fine with that.
The songs still worked. The crowd still danced. The bands still looked like they were having fun.
And that, for one totally tubular night in Anaheim, was more than enough.
FESTIVAL PHOTO GALLERY
by Shane Pase Photography
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SID 260801 | TRACI TURNER | EDITOR
