David Schneider

It is 1984. Orwell's words hang in the air. Intercontinental ballistic missiles glower at each other across a widening Atlantic chasm, much like the graying leaders of the earth, who, with furrowed brows and jowls, threaten each other with apocalypse. A challenge is made; the enemy opens his lips to respond--but, just at that critical instant, other insinuating words fall between the combatants:

"Girls on film!"

And again, more definitively, "Girls on film."

This is not, of course, how it happened. But, everyone here at the Vic has their own mythology about Duran Duran. It's a DVD-release viewing party at the Brew & View, in anticipation of the reunion tour, which plays to a sold-out Chicago crowd on November 17. A cynic would disdain this as a sellout, as yet another attempt to cash in on the Electro revival. That cynic could only be a guy, because for the women here, it's not about commercialism, and it's not even about nostalgia. It's about sex. Nostrils flare and eyes dilate and the syllables of "like, ohmigod" form on lips whenever asked about the eighties supergroup. Annie, 33, instantly morphs back into a giggly 14-year-old, quoting the date, time, row and seat number of her first concert. "I was right in front of John," she coos. First names. You'll never hear Taylor, Rhodes or Le Bon enunciated among the party faithful; this is personal. Intimate. "We'd be hanging out at the mall," Annie continues, "and, like, you could only hang out with other girls who shared `your' Duran Duran favorite."

Standing on the line to get in, though, it's a heartbreaking scene. We are all huddling about that third decade, with a heavy, suburban domesticity suffusing the atmosphere like last year's perfume. Where is the hair mousse? Whither the New Romantics? And then, like that new moon on Monday, there she is-- gold hoop earrings, a movie star whip of auburn hair, a meticulous gloss on the lips, and rabbit-fur lapels. Nicole, 30, is the apotheosis of Molly Ringwald--"The Breakfast Club"'s Claire after a few dates with Bender--and she is living the Duran Duran mystique. "I think they were fabulous, glamorous, fun-to-watch, catchy pop stars, and they have not been equaled--there's not a boy band on earth that could match their charisma."

But this is planet Earth and it's later than we think. It's now 1994, a full decade after "The Reflex," and Duran Duran is singing, "As I try to make my way/ to the ordinary world/ I will learn to survive..." Lighters are raised in the air as we laugh, knowing that beyond the nostalgia and the sex, this is pop music that tells the truth.

(2003-11-13)

Also by David Schneider

A different brew
In America, it's expected that whenever a proper gentleman wishes to have a tea party, he'll gear up in Native American face-paint and chuck the stuff into the nearest harbor
(2003-10-29)

Spin Control
Carl Cox's bleeding-ear beats caromed off Crobar's walls when my girlfriend first told me she loved me
(2003-10-23)

Air born
It's at the beginning of track four--"Betcha Do"--that you realize "Air Farina," released on Om Records this week, isn't your garden-variety house CD
(2003-10-16)

To be or knot to be
"Front to back, bottom to top," intones poet Tara Banks in a solemn rhythm echoed by a trio of knitters
(2003-10-02)

Man at Work
(2003-09-17)

Coming up dry
(2003-09-10)

Sensuous Chicago: Taste
(2003-08-05)

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