Overkill by Men at Work

Gorgeous melancholy. These two words aptly describe Men at Work's poignant 1983 masterpiece from the Ozzie band's second album Cargo. Frontman Colin Hay's distinctive singing - and 'leaky pipes' voice - is haunting. As is this song's beautiful melody and searing lyrics.

The opening guitar riff, combined with Hay's unique timbre, instantly captivates you, drawing you into a short walk at night on an empty main street. Anxiety, sleeplessness and dread in the song - 'I can't get to sleep/ I think about the implications' - is punctured by the pinpricks of happiness: 'At least there's pretty lights/ And though there's little variations/ It nullifies the night/ From overkill.'

The music is jaunty, nervous, plaintive. Greg Ham's saxophone is like a sutradhaar, appearing suddenly from time to time and slipping away. Ron Strykert's short guitar solo is a subtle joy that comes before Hay moves an octave up to tell us how a slow burn can be scalding.


In a world that feeds off overthinking, thinking what other people think, and social mediators, 'Overkill' is a balm, a sanctuary. It invites quietude, lower-cased emotions and murmurs, rather than shouting, underlining, overstating. It's the song of a mad man in his most sanest moment.