If you're feeling crestfallen at what appears to be an about-face from the boys upon whom you always depended for real selfish miserable laments, hold that thought.
While occasionally the whinging minstrel on his platform in Whelan’s will persuade you that he honestly is fed up, it must be noted in the case of 'Hey Man' that it takes a really miserable bastard to sing a cheerful song about sitting on freshly cut grass and making love with beautiful girls to still make your immortal soul shiver. That minor point aside, this is on a par with Divine Comedy’s ‘Pop Singer’s Fear Of The Pollen Count’ in terms of jolly summer song fun. File under manic and depressive.