Colin Hay

American Sunshine (Compass Records 2009)

[Reprinted from August 2009 Edition]

Colin Hay has come a long way from his days as front man of 80’s reggae-rock outfit Men at Work—both artistically and geographically.  Originally born in Scotland, Hay’s family relocated to Australia in 1967, where ten years later he would form a quintessential pub band with guitarist Ron Strykert.

 Fast-forward to 1986.  Hit albums Business as Usual and Cargo behind him, Hay disbanded Men at Work after Two Hearts faltered on the charts.  Which was perhaps for the best.  Only Hay and Greg Hamm remained from the original lineup; it was time for a new approach.

 So began Colin’s prolific solo career.  Settling in the Topanga area of California (for which he named his 1994 album), Hay honed his craft on acoustic guitar.  The next dozen years would see him quietly begetting several records’ worth of poignant, introspective songs that—by all rights—should eclipse his greatest efforts with the Men. 

 American Sunshine is, in many respects, no different from Hay’s previous work in that regard.  It’s laced with eleven cuts of musical melancholy that draw inspiration from the songwriter’s transcontinental experiences, clever observations, and personal interactions with families and friends. 

 However, the album stands apart from its predecessors by way of its origins in a Nashville studio, where Hay assembled a group of crack session players to lay the grooves and pedal steel for the material in a “live” situation.  The result of the organic process is tasty listening indeed.

 Informed by a healthy mix of wonder and cynicism at the world (and steeped in Hay’s acerbic wit) the music and lyrics of tracks like “Oh California,” “Prison Time,” “There’s Water Over You,” and “I Came Into Your Store” set them on the highest shelf with Hay’s best work (“Waiting for My Real Life to Begin,” “Beautiful World,” “Brilliant Feat,” etc.)  There’s equal parts mirth and forlornness, with Hay’s narrator reflecting on the dreams sought—and sometimes lost—by west coast residents.  He ponders opportunities lost, chances not taken, and missteps on cobblestone path to love and understanding. 

 Sound trite?  It’s not.  Few modern-day songwriters write and perform with as much verve and sincerity as the man from “Down Under” and still maintain a humble sense of one’s own place in the world.  American Sunshine is terrific listening.  It’s laid-back without being somnambulant.  It’s a great soundtrack for driving and suitable background music for just about anything—entertaining dinner guests, painting your living room, washing the dishes. 

 For good measure, Hay tosses in a couple up-tempo numbers (“Broken Love,” “Pleased to Almost Meet You”) whose gritty electric guitars churn out the blues with aplomb.  Colin’s wife, fetching salsa singer Cecelia Noel, again brings her vocal harmonies to hubby Hay’s latest batch of beauts. 

 Hay is still a man at work, and if there were more justice on the business end of music his efforts would be the subject of as much praise as the latest efforts by Jackson Browne, Bruce Springsteen, and James Taylor—all of whose storytelling panache and ability to weave musical truths with only voice and acoustic guitar find them venerated.  It’s an exclusive club to which Hay should have been given a membership card long ago.

 3.5 /5 Fists