The Lamb’s Players struck oldie gold with Boomers, their popular and oft-reprised musical revue of ‘60s songs and societal memories. Now they’re tapping into a new era and age group with miXtape (that cap X is the generation’s nickname), a bounce back into the ‘80s. It's at the Lamb's second theater, downtown's Horton Grand Theatre, 444 Fourth Ave.

Like Boomers, miXtape is largely lively and feel-good. The book, by Colleen Kollar Smith and Jon Lorenz, contains few evocations of — mostly just allusions to — the decade’s darker aspects, with no mention of complicated issues like Iran-Contra or savings and loan scandals. There are touching moments, like remembrances of the Challenger explosion and a scripted uncle who died of AIDS. And Joy Yandell connects with a tender rendition of “Luka,” Suzanne Vega’s ballad about child abuse.

But those serve only as minor nods to the reality that good times weren’t had by all. This show’s message is rhythmic fun. And the more you recall of ‘80s fads, fashions and foibles, the better you’ll savor the spirit as director Kerry Meads speeds a talented and frenetic cast through a mélange of pop songs, dances and TV themes.

It kicks off with the group, in today’s cell-phone world, rendering “Manic Monday” as they frantically try to stay on their schedules. Then, some magical iconic mixtapes drop down and take them back to their school days three decades ago.

Season Marshall Duffy

Photo by J.T. MacMillan

The multitalented cast of eight draws numerous whoops of audience recognition as they whip through snippets of TV shows, cartoons and characters (remember when NBC dominated the ratings with its Thursday-evening lineup?); recall video games in a skit accompanied by “Pac-Man Fever”; depict Freddy Krueger and other sequel-inspiring movie monsters; and recapture the empathy for John Hughes films.

The ensemble — Yandell, Season Marshall Duffy, Louis Pardo Leonard Patton, Michelle Pereira, Spencer Rowe, Lance Arthur Smith and Marci Anne Wuebben — is so well-balanced that each excels in her or his singular characterizations and vocalizations.

Book writer Smith also deserves major kudos for the terrific retro choreography, appropriately aerobic for “Flashdance” and “Let’s Get Physical,” robotic for Transformers (which, like other ‘80s crazes, are again hot); and swirling for some light breakdancing. The “Thriller” number is less than thrilling, but who can duplicate Michael Jackson?

Much credit, too, goes to Jemima Dutra’s constantly evocative costumes, including the monster masks and the repelling Ghostbusters (as in “Who Ya Gonna Call?”). Prominent, of course, are leg warmers (were those silly things ever really necessary for exercise?) and frilly dresses. But why no Madonna cone bra?

The second-act energy level ebbs, with the characters’ post-grad years bringing more serious (“I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”) or less-familiar songs, and the climactic recollection of the crashing of the Berlin Wall, linked to “99 Love Balloons,” doesn’t provide for a sufficiently stirring finish.

Personal quibbles: A Duran Duran medley, but nothing from Bruce Springsteen, who gets only the same cursory mention as John Lennon, Chernobyl and Nelson Mandela; no songs from Hall and Oates, once the best-record-selling duo ever; rap numbers but no snippet from “Rapper’s Delight,” the first rap song to go mainstream, in the process giving the genre its new name, hip hop. Plus there's not even a spoof of “We Are the World.”

Scripter Lorenz also handles the musical direction, featuring a side-stage five-piece band led by Andy Ingersoll on the keyboards, augmented by guitarist Rik Ogden and bassist Oliver Shirley. The other guitarist, Nick Spear, adds some standout contributions with characterizations and vocals, like playing the lead in a hair band. He and drummer David Rumley, aided dramatically by Rachael Campbell’s rainbow lighting, do a great rendition of Dire Straits’ opening for “Money for Nothing,” with its plaintive “I want my MTV.” That, of course, leads to the show’s salute to the ‘80s’ phenomenon that forever changed the video and music worlds.

Campbell’s lighting satisfies throughout, as does Patrick Duffy’s sound design. The apt props — including joysticks, bulky portable phone and Chuckie doll — and then-newsy projections are by Michael McKeon. Mike Buckley’s utilitarian stainless-steel and black-padded set consists of ramps, stairs, platforms and grids decorated with serpentine neon strips.

Such revues, of course, always give short shrift to songs that you may favor and go on too long with others you may not. Unfortunately, the program has no song list, so if a tune tweaks your memory but you can’t remember the title, you’ll have to search your list of mp3s — or maybe (shudder) your old collection of mixtapes.

Cast and credits