Human Nature offers a 'Jukebox' full of America’s greatest hits
G’day, mates—feeling a bit Down Under-ish, are ya? That’s a natural inclination while experiencing Human Nature. Comprised of Toby Allen, Phil Burton and brothers Andrew and Michael Tierney, the Aussie foursome’s production, Jukebox, reels off decades of America’s classic hits from the 1950s through today.
Should you chance to meet the likable lads, do you know how to converse in their lingo? Allow us to assist.
Let’s say that you enjoyed accompanying them on their far-flung musical journey, their finely honed harmonies bouncing between Motown and the Rat Pack, doo-wop and Men at Work, boy bands and Earth, Wind and Fire. That you were impressed when they dovetail Ben E. King’s “Stand By Me” with Sam Smith’s “Stay with Me.” That you swooned to a heavenly take on “Earth Angel,” followed up by equally golden oldies “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” and “Under the Boardwalk.”
Then exclaim “holy dooley!” (good heavens). Tell them it was “ace” or even a “ripper.” Say they’re the “dinky-di” (real thing) or the “dux” (top of the class) or really “ridgy-didge” (original). You might even attempt to book them for a “buck’s night” (stag party).
Let’s say that you really grooved to the “Street Corner” segment, highlighted by “Only You” and “Stay.” That you experienced an aural high when they invaded Beatles territory with “I Saw Her Standing There” and “Twist and Shout.” That you appreciated them racing up the musical timeline with ’N Syncs’ “Bye, Bye, Bye,” the Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way” and New Kids on the Block’s’ “The Right Stuff.”
Then compliment them by calling them really hot “spunks” (good-looking people). Offer to buy them a “grog” or a “coldie” (beer) and “rage on” (party) with them. But don’t “hit the turps” (go on a drinking binge), get “off your face” (drunk) and drive afterward, or you’ll wind up in a “bingle” (accident).
Let’s say that you’re musically fattened up by a pop buffet that feeds you the Beach Boys (“Don’t Worry Baby”), the Bee Gees (“You Should Be Dancing”), the Jackson Five (“I’ll Be There”), Ritchie Valens (“La Bamba”) and Martha and the Vandellas and/or David Bowie-Mick Jagger, depending on your generation (“Dancing in the Street”). Oh, and Sinatra (“The Lady Is a Tramp”). That you’re wowed by the propulsive Jukebox All-Stars band plus a pair of gracefully energetic ballroom dancers that add additional motion to this ocean of sound. That you dig the nostalgic multimedia touches, including throwback images of the Nature boys in their earlier incarnation, old .45 records (remember those, with the plastic thinghies in the middle?) and an actual jukebox streaked with rainbow flashes.
Then declare them your new best “cobbers” (friends). Shout out “Fair Suck of the Sav!” (Relax—it’s an exclamation of wonder and awe). You can even call them “bastards.” (Seriously—it’s a term of endearment).
Show’s over. What now? Well, you might want to play the “pokies” (slot machines). Or, if you’re feeling randy, go back to your room, slip on the do-not -disturb sign, get “nuddy” and “have a naughty.” (C’mon—do we really need to translate that?)
Time to bid you “hooroo” (goodbye). Or simply say: G’night, mates.