The Works is a 1989 record by Nik Kershaw.
I first heard it this past summer, driving West through Utah. Actually, I first heard it the night before in a Colorado hotel room. The following morning, I’m in my Honda Accord and I see the sign “next stop 100 miles.” I press play. Then repeat. And again. It was 110ºF and Utah might as well be Mars.
It had been a while since a piece of music flipped my ear upside down. This was even worse (better). The lyrical concepts and their foresight, the unexpected chord progression turns, baselines, drum fills, the 80s, the nerdy tone of Kershaw’s vibrato. Every song is a melodic masterpiece in at least one way. While it first was my summer-in-a-pandemic-in-San-Diego soundtrack, I’m still listening to it a year later like I’ll never get to hear it again.
Beyond music, I’m attached to the politics of what The Works stands for. It is unavailable in the US. Is this because of a leftover record label dispute from when Kershaw was recording? From his website: “The title could be interpreted as ‘the end,’ a possibility supported by the lyrics of the track ‘Take My Place.’” The album was apparently not popular. Kershaw, a pop star at the time, did not release another solo album for the following 10 years.
From England, Kershaw came to LA to work with American producers on this album. He ended up rerecording some of it in London afterwards. Check out what he said about it in an interview at the time: “American producers are used to having total control over their production. But I wanted to have a say about my own songs myself. Americans want predictable songs and sounds whereas I chose the opposite. We have been fighting like cats and dogs in that studio, we were constantly clashing.”
The Works validates the experience of an artist who puts what they have to say over their perceived popularity: it is the story of the individual who opts to push the envelope in a world that gives reward to acting out the expected.