The follow-up was held back for some time in many countries, presumably timed to coincide with a then-burgeoning Men at Work craze which was sweeping the world. That’s right – I said it – Men at Work craze. Honestly, I can’t think of a precedent for these guys in pop music history. They did everything wrong when it comes to achieving stardom. The incubation period for them was very minimal, achieving stardom in a matter of months, staying at the top for a short period of time, then after a short break, watching it all crumble in a matter of another period of a few months…and it was like they were never in the pop microscope in the first place. Listening to Cargo, some of the signs probably were apparent, although hindsight is 20/20. But generally, Cargo is a lesser animal – it’s paranoid, rushed, herky-jerky, and feels like a watered-down take on the measured madness that was the debut – again, presumably to capitalize on the ongoing craze in the air. The strange thing is, the cover goes out of its way to convey the exact opposite – that it is “business as usual”, indeed. And well, there are some indicators of wildness to be found – the lead single, for one, a tongue-in-cheek take on the old Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde tale, here titled “Dr. Heckyll and Mr. Jive” – which comes off like their speeded-up version of a WAR track, replete with sound effects showing off the good doctor’s transformations. But more celebrated (and borderline timeless) is “Overkill”, a quiet, chugging, little paranoid rocker which is definitively put over by Ham’s sax lines. Sure, we could say this is “Who Can It Be Now” part 2, 3, or 15, but what difference does it make when the band makes it sound so relevant and classy at the same time? Elsewhere, they dipped their toes in the political arena, commenting on the Cold War with the hilarious “It’s a Mistake”, where they pose themselves – and the rest of the world – as dubious victims while bloodthirsty generals and power-mad politicians fight for world control at the push of the shiny red button. The rest of the album has mixed results. “High Wire” contends in the political forum as well, but it’s hard for it to get noticed with the grand joke of “Mistake” hovering close by. “I Like To” was written by guitarist Ron Strykert, and he seems to emulating “Helpless Automation” from the previous album, just in a more progressive, yet confusing manner. The other tracks which Strykert writes, or has a hand in writing, are not the best – “Settle Down My Boy” is sheer pop banality, while “Upstairs in my House” is nothing too impressive, either. The ending tracks on both sides (“No Sign of Yesterday”, “No Restrictions” – ironic that they both start with the word “no”) are OK, just interesting that they both fit that paranoid mold to a tee, especially the latter song, which appears to be able the downfalls of way too much fame all at once. Overall, a fairly serious down grade from the debut, although there is enough here to rate this as something worth your time to check out.

This album – and the next one – were runaway commercial hits, and for a while Men at Work were practically on the same level as such big-time names as Van Halen and Genesis. Furthermore, in many countries – especially the U.S. – the commercial impact of Business as Usual was not really felt until late 1982, which meant that when the second record Cargo was released in early 1983, it was like a double whammy on a lot of levels. Men at Work were by no means geniuses, just a halfway decent pop group with a nice streak of adventure running through them, and in the New Wave 80’s, their little retro setup set them apart from the slick synth-obsessed pack. I still say, after all of these years, “Who Can It Be Now” is one of the better paranoia pop tunes ever to grace the air waves. The group harmonies at the end are a bit of a downer, but the beginning of the tune is like no other – the lonely drum kick, followed by Greg Ham’s killer sax riff, and then Colin Hay’s “who can it be knocking at my door” followed by that oh-so-timely snare 2-3-4 – one could say that was Men at Work’s real debut, never to be topped again. Then again, an even bigger hit for these guys was “Down Under” – a track which seemed to go out of its’ way to point out the Aussie in the crowd, no matter where you were in the world. Never mind that underneath the goofy window dressing lurked something different altogether – the sound has a dusky feel to it, with Ham’s flute leading the way, and for some reason I always got the nagging feeling these Aussies had a screw loose…or two or three…and were not ones to tangle with when sufficiently aroused. The other notable thing here is there are plenty of songs which could have been candidates as radio hits, and actually, some of these were minor ones in their own right. First and foremost, there is the wacky “Be Good, Johnny” – which ended up in reality show immorality, as the theme song for the show “Supernanny” – but here it is simply the biggest bounce house of cheeky, unadulterated fun. Johnny is the dreamer, the spoiled little bad boy who goes against authority because he feels like it, and the music chosen as its’ accompaniment feels perfectly matched up – kind of vague New Wave, but still in that organic Men at Work ball park. “Helpless Automation” is another good one, with lead vocals from Ham. Split Enz had to be the inspiration for this track, but that guitar line from Hay after the verses really gives this one maximum flavor. The reggae-heavy “Touching the Untouchables” has to be the most progressive piece on the album, and certainly proof that MAW had talent to burn. I dig how this track slowly yet expertly unfolds its’ many layers to the listener. Not to be missed. “People Just Love to Play with Words” is a pop song with a really simple sentiment. A song about people would lie all the time in relationships – sure, we have heard this all before, but then how come the manner the group presents it in sounds so fresh-faced and innocent? “Underground” was the final single released from the album. I do not think it is as good as the previous singles listed, but once again, the sax lines from Greg Ham are what make the difference. The album ends on quite the chill note, with “Catch a Star” followed by “Down by the Sea”. I feel like the group could have done more with this space, but I was not in their shoes. Overall, these guys really had a good thing going here, and I don’t think they get enough credit for what they accomplished with this debut record, even though these days it feels like such a distant memory. After this, it was most definitely diminishing returns for the work put in.

The first couple of Lovin' Spoonful albums were a bit subdued compared to this, their third record, which was a deliberate attempt to make something in a multitude of styles. Running less than 27 minutes over a scant 11 tracks, there would seem to be not much room to achieve this goal, but the group achieves it quite easily - almost too easily. The only drawback is the usual one - the content is never very substantial, just direct, simple, and well executed. The second side is nearly immaculate, ranging from moody jazz-inflected ballads ("Coconut Grove") to a great tongue-in-cheek take on country ("Nashville Cats") to a defining era pop song ("Summer in the City").

This is where the group truly arrives, even though it took a year or more for the album to really break to the mainstream. Whatever the case, there are only nine tracks on this record and the first seven are tried and true pop gems. Only the last two fall short of that status - "You Crack Me Up" feels like the prank of the album, and "Honky Tonk Blues" is a cover of Hank Williams song (and not a good one) - which knocks the album down a peg. But otherwise, something magical and/or nefarious happened (depending on your point of view) and it was ordained from on high that Huey Lewis & The News create the near-flawless 80's pop-rock album.

More historically known for his extensive collaborations, production credits, and other background contributions, Al Kooper's own music career has been quite an odyssey unto itself, highlighted by a string of solo albums stretching from the late 60's to early 80's. However, his debut may be the most revelatory of them all. Released in the fertile, eclectic, post Sgt. Pepper environment vacuum that was album rock at the time (with his own Blood, Sweat, and Tears and Super Session albums looming in the shadows as well) Kooper ably blended a wealth of disparate sounds and genres into what turns out to be a unified, committed gesture of humanism.