Great men

That's disappointing, coming from a band that had always tried to be upfront. Still, Gang of Four's 1995 swan song, Shrinkwrapped, was a return to form in many ways. As strong as much of their early work, the driving "Better Him Than Me" found a perfect subject in a man making his evening commute home. His pleasures are grim, voyeuristic ones: talk radio, where "strangers break down on the phone," malls where he can "hear tape birds call," a wreck on the highway that allows him to reassure himself. "Better him than me, better him than me," howls King--once again, the band was singing for everyone who felt like a beetle on its back, and especially for the liars who'd convinced themselves that they'd never felt that way.

It was an ugly or beautiful way to close up shop, depending on how you looked at it. The irony is that Gang of Four's members couldn't quite extricate themselves from the money-grubbing music culture they railed against: As England's Dreaming author Jon Savage reports in the set's liner notes, King is the only original member who escaped from the record industry, while Burnham works in A&R, Allen runs a record label, and Gill produces albums, including Jesus Lizard's latest, Blue. And of course there's a bit of irony involved in the very existence of 100 Flowers Bloom: yours for $29.98 retail, a multi-disc set of music from yet another rock band. Except that at their finest, Gang of Four spent as much time commenting on rock music as they did making it. From the well-turned phrase to the beat that would make you listen to it, they helped to define what we consume--and how much it consumes us.