But contrary to the trappings of science fiction, a big, metallic, soda machine sized contraption replete with knobs and dials and bleeping SFX is not the solution to calendar hopscotching. Neither is a gunmetal-gray Delorean with Michael J. Fox behind the wheel.

You want to venture back in time? Just pay a visit to Kenosha, Wisconsin, to a place called the Brat Stop.

Part archetypal cheese chalet, part rock music venue (you read that right), all this place needs is Rod Serling standing in the inner lobby welcoming you to the Twilight Zone. Here, you can shop for smoked cheddar, hot mustard, Green Bay Packers fridge magnets and then catch a show in the adjacent 1,500-seat music venue.

You will also discover that hordes of people are still firmly ensconced in the late 1980s. In this realm, the power ballad still reigns supreme. Blue-jean jackets covered with Winger and Slaughter and Motley Crüe patches are still the going fashion trend. Women still dress up in slinky black leather minis and mile-high stiletto pumps.

I have ventured through this disconcerting disruption in the space-time continuum to catch the second-ever show of SAR recording artists, Crunchy. The band is a power pop fusion of Cheap Trick, the Ramones and the Foo Fighters all dosed up on a case of Jolt Cola. I've known the band's front man, Monty Colvin, for several years now, dating back to when Colvin was signed with Geffen records with the speed metal/Beatle-pop quartet, Galactic Cowboys. In an ongoing crusade to expose themselves and their new disc, "All Day Sucker," to a wider audience, Colvin and his three bandmates are opening for Bar 7, a band lead by two former members of the very forgettable, character- starved, image-anemic eighties metal band, Tesla. And, believe it or not, on this night, the cheese chalet is packed with Tesla fans. I didn't know the band had this many followers in the whole world, let alone in Kenosha.

Crunchy tears throw a set of highly melodic, mile-a-minute punk-tinged rockers. But the crowd is a bit perplexed. While Colvin, with his John Lydon spiky orange hairdo, pogos frenetically across the stage—the crowd is hungry for old-fashioned hair metal.

Later, when Tesla singer Jeff Keith walks out with his new band, Bar 7, the crowd erupts. Keith is dressed in stretch jeans, a black sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of ultra-pointy snakeskin cowboy boots. His hair is feathered to perfection. This is more like it. It's 1989 all over again.

Mr. Peabody, set the swayback machine, I wanna go home before I puke.