 Men at Work Anyone who claims to be passionate about music should easily remember the first album they ever bought. I clearly recall the trip, led by my brother, to the shiny new Highland Wal-Mart, with one goal in mind: the purchase of my first record. I knew exactly what it was going to be, and I remember standing in front of that good old-timey case, with the plexiglass doors that had the holes cut in them, so you could reach inside and touch the record. I simply stared at it for a few moments, mustering up the courage to ask the clerk to get out his ring of 347 keys to open it up and get it for me. And when he had opened the case and handed me my very own copy of Business as Usual by Men at Work, my world changed forever. Okay, so maybe it wasn't THAT important, but hey, that's what waxing nostalgic is all about, you fuck. Alas, this isn't about Business As Usual, Cargo, or even the third and completely forgotten third Men at Work album, Two Hearts. I don't own any of them on CD; instead, I took the easy way out and went for the greatest hits collection. But, since Men at Work definitely cranked out their share of mediocrity, the greatest-hits treatment isn't necessarily a bad thing. The CD starts off with "Who Can It Be Now?," the monster hit off the first album. The saxophone hook that opens the track and resurfaces throughout is still just as catchy and insistent as it was twenty years ago. Reflecting upon it, it seems odd that a song about deep, intense paranoia could have gotten so incredibly popular, but it was the 80s!!!!!!? Next up is the other humongous hit off the Business As Usual LP, "Down Under." Still a great tune, with its steel drum opening and wispy flute riff. I never did like it as much as "Who Can It Be Now?," and if I had a dollar for every time I got into a drunken brawl at an Aussie pub debating that topic, I wouldn't be writing record reviews for a living, you fuck. The rest of the disc meanders through the Men at Work catalog, and there aren't any notable omissions, unless you count "Everything I Need," which was the only single off the third album. It was a fair song at best (I saw the video perhaps twice) so it's not a big loss. Off Business As Usual we get "Be Good Johnny" (which is still solid and enjoyable), a live version of the slightly annoying "I Like To," "Down By The Sea" (an album track with a slightly somber and contemplative mood which I like much more now than when I was twelve) and "Underground" (a great song which I always thought should have been a single). Off of Cargo come "It's A Mistake" (a single, and one of the better anti-nuclear war songs the period spawned … 'tain't no "Pipes Of Peace," fortunately), "Overkill" (another single, and possibly my favorite Men at Work song), "Upstairs In My House," (another solid effort), "High Wire" (another shoulda-been single), and "Dr. Heckyll And Mr. Jive" (the last Men at Work song to do anything at all). Tracks off the third album fill out the disc: "Hard Luck Story," "Still Life," "Maria," "Man With Two Hearts," and "Snakes And Ladders." None of these songs stands out, through the style is markedly different, which might explain the lack of success the record had. In the mid-eighties, I think, the American listening public was pretty resistant to change. They're not bad, but suffer in comparison to the early stuff. A lot of bands would be hard pressed to write stuff as good. The disc has a nice flow, but peters out a bit as it goes along. Opening the disc with the two mega-singles was probably a no-brainer for the record company, but it sets the bar so high, some of the other tracks can't match up. There aren't any songs that really don't work. The sound of the earlier singles, especially, has held up well, better than most stuff from that era. Maybe it's time to recount the votes and declare Men at Work one of the best bands of its time. Their early stuff is kinda classic, while the later stuff, if released today, would probably find a much more receptive audience than it did initially … albeit a VH1 audience. And speaking of VH1, what the hell ever happened to Bobby Rivers? That guy was a frickin' genius.
Review by Mario Speedwagon |