The Working Title

Were I a believer in reincarnation, and if 80s hair bands were capable of such a spiritual re-emergence, The Working Title might very well be their collective persona reborn. While no one might mistake them for Skid Row, Tesla or Bon Jovi, beneath the surface lies the very same essence that made those bands what they were – driving and steady guitar, a penchant for flair (albeit predictable) and a lead singer that wails dramatically to punctuate it all.

Not that it’s a bad thing. The 80s have enjoyed their much-deserved revival; as much for the built-in likeability and catchiness of the music as for any nostalgia. And The Working Title offers improvements that are unmistakably contemporary. For example, you probably never heard a coiffed 80s band sing a song called “Thoughts on Love’s Mishaps”, and they definitely wouldn’t have imbued it with lyrics such as “When everyone is listening reasons jump into the glass that breaks”. At the same time, though, they would’ve made sure the chords were consistent and grittily agreeable, and they might even have had a balladic, echoing and thoroughly sappy bridge like “Set a course, to see your face… Oh Northern Star!” as The Working Title did in “Mishaps”. The band seems to work their songs out on a give-and-take premise: the catchiness balances out the cheesiness.

The band has definitely wasted no time getting into the mix on the music scene. The members are all tykes and tyros--with members ranging in age from 19 to 22--but they don’t come across that way. They’ve emerged from their teen years with some level of maturity, while at the same time not appearing like they have it all figured out. There is talent here, and hope for growth beyond what Everyone Here is Wrong offers.

The first couple times I listened to it, I didn’t give this disc much credit. I thought it had basically been done before, and that this iteration of it didn’t merit anything more than a passing interest. Then, unexpectedly and creepily, I found several of its refrains bubbling up in my mind, and before I knew it I was singing under my breath. Songs like the aforementioned “Mishaps” and “The Mary Getaway” had a way of making their way into my shuffling cerebral jukebox against all better judgment.

In short, Everyone Here is Wrong didn’t really make me want to tell all my friends about it. It was more of a guilty pleasure—like watching a campy TV show when no one else is around. It’s a cheeseburger that you have once a month while eating healthy the rest of the time—enjoyable, but not something you’d want to have everyday. And it gives you the chance to hear an up-and-coming young band with just a tinge of the hair spray past.