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Tripod Men Of Substance Mac McNaughton


Men Of Substance

Remote Control

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Men Of Substance

Henry Rollins once marveled: “Simply being in the Perth Concert Hall makes one 10% more cultured”. The same formula may be applied to Tripod’s ability to be more amusing when placed on television or the stage; the key 10% differential tipping the scales from ‘raising polite smirks’ to ‘actually being funny’. Men Of Substance strikes poses all over the chaise-longue of middle-aged gentrification suggesting that once one is in one’s 40s, one loses the ability to belly laugh heartily.

Scott, Yon and Gatesy’s musical chemistry is still plush like velour. Adult Contemporary raises a knowing smile as it passes round the bruschetta; Lingering Dad’s rock-operatics will ruffle the cardigans of those who pledge allegiance to Queen’s Greatest Hits. Many jokes and references are intentionally dated (Samantha Fox Strip Poker and Business Activity Statements get name checked) but then there’s skits on frustrations of dating on a work night and much ruminating on masculine insecurities which do broaden the appeal (“She wanted a gay man and I was the closest that she could get”). The best amuse-bouche is DILF which successfully manages to rob the trendy term of any sexiness, delivered with the sleazy wink and gunshot hand motions of a smelly baldy in stained grundies.   

If you view musical numbers in comedy shows as an excuse to go to the toilet, this album won’t steer your course. However, even the most vocal members of the Bring Back Good News Week Facebook page won’t want to stick around to the end. That the scope of observation is so narrow, Men Of Substance’s impact is instantly limited as much as, say, a semi-decent Christmas album.

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