I've been to Australia.
I've eaten Vegemite.
I, um, am a man. And I work. Although, to be fair, I'm not a man "at work" at this precise moment.
Fact.
The above qualifications still make me uniquely qualified among the Single Breakdown writing staff to handle this particular number one. This is true, regardless that I'm actually the only person on this writing staff. My experience, that what it is, still puts me head and shoulders above the non-existent rest. I mean, have the non-people been to Australia like I have? Huh? Well, not likely, since these fake people don't exactly have passports. Which I do! So, yeah, I'll handle this review.
Mate.
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| Sleeping under the Aussie flag will make you a New Zealander. Fact! |
Men at Work hit number one here in the colonies(?) with a jaunty and silly little tune called "Down Under". It caught fire just around the start of the music video boom, which helped it find its way into semi-regular rotation on most top 40 radio stations. I remember, at some point during my early teen years, staring blankly at the MTV as these very un-rockstar looking dudes bounced around in various cheap-looking locales. I couldn't tell what they were saying, or just what they were down under-neath, but gosh they seemed awfully happy to be singing about it.
It was catchy, and had some lyrics that, to a landlocked suburbanite, made absolutely no sense. They were filled with nonsensical words and a collective oddness. For example, the chorus, though fun, came across as vaguely threatening:
"I come from a land down under / where women glow and men plunder
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder? / You better run, you better take cover"
Plundering men? Thunder? I need to take cover?!?!? Jeez, way to ruin a kid's day. Although, at least nobody was talking about moving microwave ovens. For that, I was very, very grateful.
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| All Australian men wear their younger sister's clothes. Fact! |
The verses, however, have their own level of absurdity to take in. Each of the three unique stanzas were written from the perspective of a person traveling abroad that felt deeply proud and wistful of their homeland. And, at the same time, that bloke (Australian thing, slang) was very likely stoned/drunk out of his meat pie (Australian thing, savory).
So, let's take a gander at this trifecta of lyrical uncertainty and see what we can parse all these years later. Will there be shrimp? Will there be barbie? Ooohh, I don't know?!?!!?
Actually, I do know. There will be none of either. Sorry. Let's read on anyway:
Verse 1
"Traveling in a fried-out combie
On a hippie trail, head full of zombie
I met a strange lady, she made me nervous
She took me in and gave me breakfast"
For the moment, let's skip ahead to the third and fourth lines. Imagine that you've met up with your friend, uh, Dexter, No, too killery. Uh, Hank! Right, you haven't seen Hank in a while. He asked what you did last weekend, and you respond, quite seriously, "Well Hank, I met a strange lady, who made me nervous! She took me in and gave me breakfast."
You'll never see Hank again after that night. He'll back away from you slowly and disappear, muttering to his friends about you and your impulses. Hank will pity you. Hank! How does that feel?
That's what I thought.
Oh, and the first two lines? Sure, those are great and completely reasonable. No worries.
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| A head full of zombie is part of a complete Australian breakfast. Fact! |
Verse 2
"Buying bread from a man in Brussels
He was six-foot-four and full of muscles
I said do you speak-a my language?
He just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich"
First of all, it's nice to support the local economy, where ever you are. So, good on ya for visiting that local Belgian bakery.
Secondly, if he happened to have a vegemite sandwich just sitting there, ready to hand-pass to the next Aussie that walked in, I, uh possibly would politely place it in the bin. People in that part of the world eat amazing food. Remarkable stuff made with precision and incredible ingredients. They don't consume mystery paste slathered in a french roll. Seriously, that grub has been sitting there since the Yahoo Serious film festival ended. So, for a loooooong time.
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| This is not a real food, it's just a huge joke played on the rest of the world. Fact! |
Verse 3
"Lyin' in a den in Bombay
With a slack jaw, and not much to say
I said to the man are you trying to tempt me?
Because I come from the land of plenty"
Opium. You're in an opium den. Really, you're in no place to brag about your homeland.
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| This handsome married couple will meet you at the airport! Not a fact, sadly |
FINAL THOUGHTS
It's difficult not to enjoy Men At Work's, um, work. They had about a half-dozen songs getting airplay in the early-to-mid eighties, and they were all pretty good. Weird, yes. Ridiculous, indeed. But, enjoyable, and certainly different sounding than every other top hit of the time. And, given lead singer's Colin Hay resurgence over the past decade with a handful of acoustic heart-warmers, I think it's safe to say these guys had some talent. Sure, it was buried in a kangaroo pouch under a mound of Tim Tam's, but it was there.
So, go visit Australia! Perhaps you'll see a strange yet glowing woman, or a plundering, muscle-bound man. Or, if you're really lucky, you'll spot men at work. Not the band, unfortunately, but actual men working. Still, you can point at them and scream your American head off about running for cover. They'll know what that means.
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