The phrase "one-hit wonder" is fraught with negative implications. On the surface, it means that the band or artist in question had only one popular song. But it also seems to use popularity as a gauge of artistic ability, implying that the particular band or artist was only capable of writing one hit. In other words, they're unable to sustain more than a fleeting popularity because of a lack of talent, not because of the public's-- and perhaps the supporting label's-- fickleness. A short residence on the Billboard charts signifies mediocrity, and vice versa.

Needless to say, the implications are misleading. Looking back at the last ten years, Nirvana, Radiohead, and Beck are just a few of the many bands and artists who, through sustained critical and commercial success, have overcome the one-hit wonder status initially bestowed upon them. Others, such as the Pixies and the Church, never had another hit-- and "Here Comes Your Man" and "Under the Milky Way" weren't that big to begin with-- but were nevertheless considered one-hit wonders. Why? Because the term is reserved, by critics and fans alike, for the supposedly untalented: Cutting Crew, Glass Tiger, and... Modern English?

"I'll Melt with You" was hugely popular when it came out, and still I hear it-- thank you, Burger King-- nearly 18 years later. So, on the one hand, Modern English seem to be classic one-hit wonder material: the song's legacy has far outlived that of the band. On the other hand, these guys were on 4AD, the prestigious British label that was home to such seminal 80's bands as the Cocteau Twins, Throwing Muses, and, yes, the Pixies. So where do Modern English fall? Somewhere between those 4AD bands and Mr. Mister.

Modern English are a perfect embodiment of rock-n-roll between 1980 and 1984, for they began as a feisty, Wire-y post-punk band and fizzled out as just another New Romantic synth-pop outfit like those they had once despised: Duran Duran, a Flock of Seagulls, Spandau Ballet, and the list goes on. Thus, Life in the Gladhouse contains as many bland, dated tracks as it does edgy, innovative ones-- and the former only serve to make the latter more frustrating.

But at least the good people of 4AD, who should be questioned for release of this flattering retrospective, knew not to put "I Melt with You" first. Instead, they offer up a couple tracks that accurately reflect the band's early sound. The first song, "16 Days"-- from their debut album, 1981's Mesh & Lace-- opens with a tempestuous mix of static, a sawed guitar, rattling film cans and cut-and-pasted radio voices hailing the making of the atomic bomb. The song then kicks in with propulsive bass and drums, a tambourine, a ringing guitar and Robbie Grey's defiant vocals: "Sixteen days without sunlight on my back/ Sixteen days without ideas in my head." And it closes as you might expect: in an explosion of metal.

Like "16 Days," "Gathering Dust" (also from Mesh and Lace) shows why Modern English deserved to be on 4AD. Here, they're at their best, making the abuse of guitar strings as much an artistic act as an irreverent one. Add some thunderous drums, varied guitar work (from indie-like noodling to swirling, distorted masses) and restless, immediate lyrics like, "The pressure's on/ No time to lose," and you have a promising band that was headed for much greater things than...

..."I'll stop the world and melt with you/ I've seen the difference and it's getting better, all the time." The drums that open the track are the only familiar sound. The guitar is passive, Grey's voice is flat, and the well-spaced handclaps are either too poppy, or not punk enough. Admittedly, the bridge-- where Grey sings, "The future's open wide"-- is appealing in an early-U2 sort of way. But that's all I'll admit. Modern English: this paragraph is your legacy.

After that musical atom bomb, which first appeared on their otherwise strong sophomore album, 1982's After the Snow, the 74-minute Life in the Gladhouse begins an unendurable, non-chronological song hopping among Modern English's three 4AD albums-- their third being 1984's Ricochet Days, which established their transition to a synth-pop band. The band always employed a synthesizer, but initially, as on tracks like "Mesh and Lace" and "After the Snow," they used it as just another instrument. On songs like "Rainbow's End" and "Heart"-- both from the overproduced Ricochet Days (courtesy of Echo and the Bunnymen producer Hugh Jones, who also took the helm for After the Snow)-- a smooth synthesizer has almost completely driven the sharp guitars out of existence.

The 80's were perhaps the most ruthless years in music history, spawning more one-hit wonders than ever before-- and New Wave provided more than its fair share of them. Given their early promise, I refuse to write Modern English off as a one-hit wonder. But I also can't, in good conscience, recommend this collection. Mesh and Lace? Yes, especially if you're craving more pretentious, early-80's post-punk. After the Snow? Probably, if a good synth-punk hybrid is what you're looking for. But Life in the Gladhouse is no more than before-and-after photos of a band leveled by one merciless hit.