What About Me

The Heart-Wrenching Rise of "What About Me" by Moving Pictures

In the early 1980s, as Australia churned out raw, heartfelt rock amid the glossy pop wave from across the Pacific, a little song from a Sydney band captured something deeply human. "What About Me," released in 1983 by Moving Pictures, wasn't just a track—it was a plea that echoed the frustrations of everyday folks overlooked in a booming world. I remember hearing it first on a crackly radio in my uncle's car, that soaring chorus hitting like a gut punch. Let's dive into its story, from dusty notebooks to chart-topping glory.

The Spark of Creation: A Song Born from Observation

The song's origins trace back to 1982, when Moving Pictures—fronted by guitarist Tim Gurr and vocalist Alex Holmes—were grinding through the Australian pub circuit. The band, formed in 1980 from the ashes of earlier outfits, drew from influences like Dire Straits and The Police, blending sharp riffs with emotional lyrics. But "What About Me" came from a place far more personal. Co-writers Russell Bradfield and Garry Frost, both in the band, penned it during a quiet moment in Frost's apartment overlooking Sydney's harbor.

Frost, the keyboardist, later shared in interviews how the idea struck him while watching news reports on urban decay and economic divides. "I saw these families struggling, invisible to the suits making decisions," he recalled. Bradfield added verses about the overlooked worker, the single mom, the forgotten veteran—universal cries wrapped in a mid-tempo rock ballad. It's that authenticity that makes it timeless; they weren't chasing trends but venting real rage. Anecdotally, Frost scribbled the chorus on a napkin during a late-night jam session, half-joking that it felt like "a letter to the government." Little did they know, it'd become an anthem.

Recording in the Heat of Sydney's Studios

By mid-1983, Moving Pictures had inked a deal with Wheatley Records, thanks to their debut single "Never Gonna Die." They headed to Paradise Studios in Sydney's suburbs, a no-frills spot where the air hummed with the scent of cigarette smoke and fresh coffee. Producer Richard Lush, known for his work with the likes of Split Enz, kept sessions tight—about two weeks total for the album Days of Innocence.

The recording of "What About Me" was straightforward but intense. Holmes' vocals were tracked in one emotional take, his voice cracking just right on the bridge. Frost layered those haunting piano chords, while Gurr's guitar solo added a gritty edge without overproducing. They used analog tape, capturing the raw energy of a band on the cusp. One fun aside: during a break, the band bet on whether the song would flop or fly—Gurr lost and bought beers for a month. The result? A polished yet urgent track clocking in at 3:40, ready to resonate.

From Aussie Airwaves to Global Echoes: Release and Success

Released as the third single from Days of Innocence in August 1983, "What About Me" exploded locally. It shot to No. 1 on the Kent Music Report, holding for four weeks and selling over 30,000 copies in Australia alone. Radio stations couldn't get enough; it was the sound of summer barbecues and late-night drives. Internationally, it cracked the U.S. Top 50 in 1984, peaking at No. 29 on the Billboard Hot 100, and even charted in Canada.

The music video, shot in stark black-and-white with urban vignettes, amplified its message, airing heavily on MTV. Moving Pictures toured relentlessly, opening for INXS and sharing stages with Midnight Oil. Success peaked with ARIA Hall of Fame nods years later, but the band splintered by 1985 amid label woes—classic rock 'n' roll heartbreak.

Lasting Impact: A Voice for the Voiceless

Culturally, "What About Me" punched above its weight. In an era of synth-pop excess, it reminded listeners of rock's protest roots, influencing Aussie acts like Crowded House. Generationally, it spoke to Gen X's disillusionment—those feeling squeezed by Reagan-Thatcher economics. It's been covered by everyone from Shannon Noll to Kenny Rogers, and sampled in ads critiquing inequality.

Its legacy endures in playlists about resilience; I still tear up at live bootlegs where crowds sing along like a collective therapy session. For a one-hit wonder, it proved that sometimes, one song can make the invisible seen, leaving a scar on the world's heart that time won't fade.