Considering I was a mere 8-week old fetus the last time Hair opened in Toronto, I wouldn’t know the difference between a good or bad production of the tribal love rock musical if it bit me in my corporate ass.

But having experienced the newest offering at the Bluma, I’m hard pressed to believe it resembles anything but the finer productions that’s been done throughout the years.

That’s not a theatre observer’s take on the show! It’s a campy assumption coming from a once youth culture whore with a nasty disposition towards everything 1968. I envied teens in the 50s, partied up a storm with them in the 80s, and respectfully smiled upon their state-of-confusion angst well into the 90s. But those rising up in late 60s and early 70s were just far too self righteous and ideologically flawed for me to ever comprehend.

Until now that is. Because with director Robert A. Prior at the reigns, it’s strangely apparent how the youth of today are perplexingly more similar—than different—to those of the hippy movement. Drugs are bigger than ever, the sex even freer. And hell, looking back at recent G-8 Summits, we all know they haven’t lost the fine art of protest.

The CanStage production of Hair is like a psychedelic trip of which there’s no coming down. It has all the right moves and attitude blowing through 48 musical numbers to relive the revolution.

The spunky cast is largely composed of relative newcomers to main stage Toronto theatre and their fresh, hip look is simply irresistible. And the group’s cultural mosaic rides a crest of imagery somewhere between a United Colors of Benetton billboard and a GAP television commercial.

The joy in their voices, the glistening of their smiles, and the energy of their movements all makes 1968 surprisingly discernible.

Give me tie-dye or give me death.