Big Country - Chance (Mercury)

Stuart Adamson owes more than a little to New Joisey's own Bruce Springsteen, but this time he borrows voice, harmonies and tune. But where Springsteen would muck it all up with a surfeit of sax frenzy and over-enthusiastic vocals, Stuart and friends, with their clanking guitars, remain persuasively restrained, saving a power chord-driven chorus for a final treat. Single Of The Fortnight. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, September 1, 1983)

The Lucy Show - Undone (A&M)

Guitars nip and chatter while a singer with the sleepy drawl of a British Jack Nicholson gets all sardonic about hanging out on the corner with his stinky friends. Not much of a song tune-wise, but the sound is dashingly gloomy. You can dance to it, you can call it "art" if you so wish - either way it's shimmeringly cool. Single Of The Fortnight. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, November 6, 1985)

Midge Ure - That Certain Smile (Chrysalis)

I've always been fascinated by the paradox of Midge Ure. He makes grandiose, swirling high pop with allusions to quality and distinction, but its success is rooted more in hard graft perspiration than cool inspiration, He's a workman who tosses out nee-symphonic ditties with the industry and efficiency of a factory. The product is always functional, adequately pleasing in design and has built-in obsolescence. While most bands unconsciously aspire to this plateau, despite mouthing, to the contrary, Midge has turned this reliability into an art form. (Mike Gardner, Record Mirror, November 9, 1985)

It's the plush, grandiose pop sound of "If I Was" once again, only more so - which can mean only four things... 1) "That Certain Smile" will be a very big hit; 2) You'll be quite fond of it for a couple of days; 3) By the time it being played on the radio every six minutes you'll be sick to death of it; 4) If he does those stupid theatrical hand wiggles in the video again you'll scream and scream and hurl the TV set out of the window and it'll land on top of a police car and you'll be sent to prison for a very long time. Bad luck. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, November 6, 1985)

Captain Sensible - Come On Down (A&M)

In which our hero risks life and limb and dares attack those great British National Heroes, the TV quizmasters. A nation swoons and shouts 'shame' at the Captain who with a punk-like thrash pours scorn on those TV show Hitlers who offer 'a year's supply of Spam ' or a 'fluffy kangaroo' for witless participants. For his next record, the Captain will expose the evil men who make cats tap-dance in concrete booties. (Adrian Tierney-Jones, No 1, November 16, 1985)

"Win a holiday for two/or a fluffy kangaroo/Genuine vinyl three piece suite/ It will make your life complete. . ." Yes, Sensible is having a sneer at The Price Is Right and similar gruesome game shows, but he's so jolly and chirpy and inoffensive about it all that Derek Batey, Leslie Crowther and all those other masters of audience humiliation are left without a stain on their characters. In a couple of years, the "very lovely" Maggie Moone will probably be singing this jaunty cockney trot-along to the contestants on Name That Tune. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, November 6, 1985)

Wham! - I'm Your Man (Epic)

I must say, I do like the cut of George Michael's jib. What usually happens once you've become the world's most famous rising pop star is you get complacent and start making useless records, or you go dotty and stop making records altogether. Not George. George cares about pop for too much to let himself become distracted just yet. He's passionate about pop and he's good at it too: not a great songwriter but a stylish "craftsman" and a marvellous singer. On "I'm Your Man" he comes on all breathy and slippery in a racy pumping romp that's a little bit Motown and quite a lot George McCrae. A dignified hit: G. Michael is a proper star. (Not entirely sure what Andrew does on this but, no doubt, he does it very well too). (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, November 6, 1986)

I don't own a crystal ball anymore but I suppose "I'm Your Man" will get to Number One. However, the first Wham! single this year doesn't have the snap, crackle and pop of "Go-Go" or the sheer cheek of "Freedom"'s Motown rip-off. To these ears it's a rather pale re-write of "Freedom" with a weedy sax. Perhaps George is working too hard. (Adrian Tierney-Jones, No 1, November 16, 1985)

Prefab Sprout - Faron Young (Kitchenware)

The Sprouts finally deliver a single worthy of their adulatory press. Sprightly and catchy, Paddy McAloon's pleasantly sincere vocals make you ignore just how pretty darned weird are the words he's singing. (Eleanor Levy, Record Mirror, July 29, 1985)

The Sprouts' attention to detail is what raises them above the dross. Quite what Paddy McAloon has in mind when he chants 'you give me Faron Young, four in the morning' is open to the individual's interpretation, but somehow it doesn't seem to matter. The musical arrangement is pleasant and the bit at the end which sounds like toads singing round a campfire is a stroke of genius. (Dave Ling, No 1, June 29, 1985)

Having previously dismissed P. Sprout as flitty and too clever by half, I now find myself forced to eat my words. This is an English truck-drivin' song about having to eat Yorkie Bars in the horrific surroundings of motorway "service areas" and listening to the ghastly weepies of country crooner Faron Young on a crackling in-cab radio. At least, I think that's what it's about. Anyway, the lot of the lorry driver is not a happy one and "Faron Young" (the song not the singer), with its deft quotes from C&W banjo-pickin' and steel guitar music, is witty, charming and quite excellent. (But I still say this group has a stupid name.) (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, July 3, 1985)

Pet Shop Boys - West End Girls (Parlophone)

The Pet Shop Boys (alias Mutt and Tibbs, no doubt) released "West End Girls" some time ago, but claim that second time around it's re-recorded. Which could be another way of saying that they've only got one good song and this is it and please will you buy it. Well if it worked for King with "Love and Pride", it should work for "West End Girls" which, with its sad, reflective air set to subdued sub-disco, is miles better. (Adrian Tierney-Jones, No 1, November 16, 1985)

For some reason, this sprightly amble through the studied lowlife of a city triggers off the fragrance of William DeVaughn's "Be Thankful For What You Got" and something else that'll come to me when I least need it. (Mike Gardner, Record Mirror, November 9, 1985)

A tumble through Soho in the seedy wee, wee hours accompanied by the kind of jaundiced horns that are more often found on soundtracks of films about Hollywood actresses hitting the bottle and cracking up with mascara running down their faces (Valley Of The Dolls springs to mind). Set against this, the electronic bleats and the demi-rap (Grandmaster Flash And The Furious Five's "The Message" without the baseball bat) create an atmosphere of danceteria sleaze that's almost sinister. Brrr. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, November 6, 1985)

Amazulu - Excitable (Island)

Amazulu have a brilliant and colourful image but so far that image has been more memorable than their music. Well hopefully that'll all change now with this energetic toe tapper of a summer single. The strength of this bouncy tropical pop song actually lies in the fact that it's so deliciously simple and repetitive. (Debbi Voller, No 1, July 6, 1985)

I must be going mad, because I was sure there were six members of Amazulu. And on this super-shiny pop reggae it sure sounds like more than one woman making all those noises. Must have been mistaken, because if there were six of them, they wouldn't show the prettiest member - the most "marketable" one - on the cover and publicity shots now, would they? No, of course not. (Eleanor Levy, Record Mirror, July 29, 1985)

Could these reggae gals be the new Bananarama? No. Even the "rams" never came this close to sounding like a Coco Pops commerical. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, July 3, 1985)

The Ramones - Bonzo Goes To Bitburg (Beggars Banquet)

Ah, they don't make records like this anymore - unless, of course, "they" are The Ramones who continue to thrash away in their leaky jeans and unhygienic sneakers as if it were still 1976. Perhaps no one bothered to tell them the news that "punk's dead" - and thank goodness for that, because this topical assault on R. Reagan's recent German blunderings reminds one that a song that sounds like it was recorded by road drills in a tub of yoghurt can still be genuinely exciting. I love this for its "blistering-chainsaw" qualities, its dumb attempts at "na-na-na" harmonies, and, most of all, for Joey Ramone's voice which sounds more like a nasty accident in a hamburger factory than ever. Joint Single Of The Fortnight. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, July 3, 1985)

The lovable pin-heads return with some more typical Ramones thrash. Untouched completely by anything that has happened in the world for the past 10 years, the Ramones go their own sweet way re-recording the same song time after time but still sounding fresh and happy. Old friends, dear friends, what a sad and trivial place the world would be without them. (Eleanor Levy, Record Mirror, June 29, 1985)

Limahl - Love In Your Eyes (Parlophone)

He's back. Back! With a moving imitation of a piece of pink tissue paper (i.e. his singing is gigantically wispy) and a completely weedy pop song. Hip hip hooray! "Love In Your Eyes" is, of course, awesomely exquisite: swoonsome, tunesome, frighteningly wholesome, covered in fluff and without an ounce of malice. Better even than "Never Ending Story", Limahl's last blub-soaked imperishable, it's a work of intense drippiness. "Sublime". "Soppy". Totally brilliant. Single Of The Fortnight. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, April 23, 1986)

Note: The late, great Tom Hibbert was notorious for his sarcastic reviews, very much in evidence here. I was also saddened to read that he suffered from a debilitating medical condition for the last fourteen years of his life, and so wrote nothing from the age of 45. Such a shame.

Annabella - Fever (RCA)

She's back. Back! Annabella Lwin, the girl with the striking hair and the tingling squeak who rocketed to fame for two seconds with Bow Wow Wow - back! And her voice - husky and controlled - is sounding quite marvellous. Unfortunately for her, though, some studio personage who shall remain nameless (i.e. producer Jimmy Lea of Slade) has gone very wonky: in an attempt to soup up the sound of this much-recorded cracker of the '50s, he's stuffed in everything he can lay his hands on - ZTT/ Propaganda electric shocks, Van Halen squiggling guitars, Sade-type "sophisticated" flutings, Slade-type unsophisticated clonking - and he's ended up with a nasty mess all over the place. Boo. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, April 23, 1986)

Former Bow Wow Wow star Annabella's second solo single (I think), and she's improving all the time. Though nothing to get excited about, "Fever" (produced by Slade bassist Jimmy Lea) is a million miles from the ineptitude that was "C30 C60 C90 Go". At least she's singing these days, and although she'll never be another Sade, that's a step in the right direction. Come back in twelve months time. Next! 3/5 (Dave Ling, No 1, April 26, 1986)

The Nirvana Devils - Some Foreign Shore (Exile)

Simply, the best record ever made by Germans. Kraftwerk? Einsturzende Neubauten? Nena's 99 bouncing balloons? Phooey!! So earnest, so obscure. On this classic masterpiece of puerile punky-pop, Berlin's Nirvana Devils reveal to their fellow countrymen the true spirit and innermost secrets of real pop music: squeaky voices, sparing instrumentation, garish shirts, ridiculous shades and - most important of all - enormous earrings. If you don't buy this record, you'll probably live to a ripe old age. If you do buy this record, you might die happy. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, February 14, 1985)

The Chameleons - In Shreds / Nostalgia (Statik)

Indie heroes from Manchester make a renewed attempt at chart status with the help of a Steve Lillywhite produced hard hitting rocker - all sounds a bit dated to me. "Nostalgia" is definitely the better of the two A-sides. (Diane Cross, Record Mirror, February 9, 1985)

Listeners to the John Peel Show just lurve The Chameleons - but then they would, wouldn't they? For the group sound sort of like an aggressive Cure and sing about holes in their heads. This is/was the first ever Chameleons single, re-released by "popular demand". And four years on, "In Shreds" sounds exactly like it did in the first place: sort of like an aggressive Cure . . . I just love it to death. But then I would, wouldn't I? (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, February 14, 1985)

This was presumably named after the state you're in once you've sat through it. Starting off like The Sex Pistols "Pretty Vacant", it tumbles headlong into a crazed cross between U2 and The Psychedelic Furs. The singer yelps frantically about "machinery" while the rest of the band race each other to the end of the song. I wouldn't like to get stuck in a lift with these boys. (Stuart Husband, No 1, March 2, 1985)

The Stranglers - Let Me Down Easy (Epic)

The days of sexism and chauvinism are long gone and a more mature, mellower sounding bunch of musical murderers take to the turntable. This is another track from the excellent 'Aural Sculpture' LP and well worth lending an ear to. Ironically, with a name like theirs, Hugh is asking for a peaceful and painless end when his number is finally called. And to add sympathy to his emotive plea, he's wearing a plaster over his left eye on the cover pic - a late contribution to the Band Aid venture? (Diane Cross, Record Mirror, February 9, 1985)

After the shifting, whispering moods of "Skin Deep", this is a glaring disappointment. Doesn't actually sound like The Stranglers at all, more like some hit offering from some continental group no-one's ever heard of. Very weedy and on the cover, Hugh Cornwell is wearing sticky plaster above his left eye. What on earth is the meaning of this? (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, February 14, 1985)

If you're not a Stranglers fan already then this song certainly isn't going to persuade you. And if you're a Doors fan, one listen will probably have you after Hugh Cornwell's blood! This is a drab and draggy affair with the worst keyboards break I've heard in a long time. Take it away, boys . . . far away. (Ursula Kenny, No 1, February 9, 1985)

A-ha - The Living Daylights (Warner Brothers)

Nothing could surpass Shirley Bassey's "Goldfinger", and since then there's been a number of dire themes accompanying James Bond films. Mort and the boys belt out something that might have stood a better chance as the theme for a gardening programme. The world tour seems to have well-knackered them. Licensed to thrill? I think not. (Robin Smith, Record Mirror, June 27, 1987)

Following in the footsteps of Shirley Bassey, Paul "Fab Macca Wacky Thumbs Aloft" McCartney, Duran Duran and little Sheena Easton, our Nordic foragers come to tackle the James Bond Movie Theme - that's the bit they play over chose dated silhouettes of girlies with not very many clothes on and blokes in suits with great big pistols. Unfortunately, James Bond films aren't really much cop and neither, usually, are these James Bond Movie Theme thingies. And this particular example is no exception. Oh, it's unmistakably A-ha: Morten's voice starts out smoky and sneery and then goes into a piping falsetto at the first available opportunity as per usual and there's piles of "dramatic" "tension" and everything. But is there a proper tune? No. Can you twist to it? No you jolly well cannot. In fact, it's all fearfully Duran Duran before they went good. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, June 17, 1987)

Spear Of Destiny - Liberator (Epic)

Beefy guitar growls, rabble rousing sax, drum thumping and angry snarls - it's a regular noise orgy. Quite what Kirk Brandon is going on about, goodness only knows, but he sounds very cross, like a kitten with a whip. Almost great. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, April 12, 1984)

 The Liberator was an aircraft with a massive wingspan. This is also true of Kirk Brandon's head - though for once his bragging seems justified. "Liberator" is big, bold, cocky rock with Brandon snarling and sneering like Joe Strummer on "Janie Jones". A rich surprise. (Martin Townsend, No 1, March 31, 1984)

Rubber Rodeo - Anywhere With You (Eat)

These pretend cowboys and gals from Rhode Island, USA, certainly whip-crack away with gusto on this barmy blend of power pop and Country & Western. Eddie Stern's pedal steel guitar swings high and low, Trish Milliken sings her boots off and a splendid time is had by all. Refreshingly zesty. (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, August 2, 1984)

Queen - It's A Hard Life (EMI)

I unashamedly admit to having always liked Queen. The last two singles were brilliant, but this is a cynical repetition of past glories with a beginning that could be "Bohemian Rhapsody" and an overall feeling of lethargy. The New Seekers made a record like this once. (Eleanor Levy, Record Mirror, July 28, 1984)

Having gone all modern on "Radio Ga Ga" and then all peculiar on "I Want To Break Free", Queen finally return to the style of old with a lush ballad featuring a breathy, operatic Freddie Mercury and one of those sumptuous Brian May guitar solos. Suddenly, it's 1975 all over again and life doesn't seem so hard after all. Or does it? (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, August 2, 1984)

Russ Abbot - All Night Holiday (Spirit)

Who can resist the posturings of strutting rock idol Russ Abbot? The cover of this package holiday classic shows Russ drinking stout while such giants of pop as George Michael, Strawberry Switchblade, Elton John and even Mike Read cavort on the beach around him. They should be so lucky! Why, they're not fit to kiss the turf upon which this cerebral God of music and merriment daintily treads! (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, July 3, 1985)

Imagine "Atmosphere" with slightly different words and you'll see why a break in a Siberian salt mine isn't such a bad proposition after all. Anyone who buys this deserves to lose their ears in a painful way. (Mike Gardner, Record Mirror, June 22, 1985)

Russ Abbot knows as much about making good pop music as I do about llama breeding. No doubt this will go down a storm on those dreadful 18 to 30 mud wrestling jaunts which I keep reading about in the papers.
Abysmal piffle. (Max bell, No 1, June 22, 1985)

Dexy's Midnight Runners - This Is What She's Like (Mercury)

Super. Sexy. Scintillating. Dexys are set to soar up the charts again with their first single for two years.
Yes, after the customary void, the Runners are back with an absolute gem. First came the power and soul of "Geno", then a break, then the Irish tinge of the Too Rye Aye album and "Come On Eileen", another break, and now, a hybrid of the two with Kevin Rowland's distinctive wail over the top. If this doesn't hit number one I'll eat my words. (Mark Booker, No 1, November 9, 1985)

Kevin Rowland's in this pub with this bloke called Bill who keeps saying, "Tell me what she's like" to him, right? "I'm trying, Bill, I'm trying", Kevin replies - trouble is there's this half baked Irish showband with a doddery old fiddle player blaring away in the corner so Kevin can hardly hear himself think. And anyway he's getting quite drunk and so keeps losing himself in the middle of sentences and howling along with the showband but not quite getting the words right or the tune for that matter. Bill never does find out what she's like (whoever "she" might be) and Kevin wakes up next morning with a massive hangover and the awful, dawning realisation that last night he made this simply ludicrous pop disc... (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, November 6, 1985)

Prefixed "An Extract From...", this is the single Kevin vowed would never be. But since the massed ranks of the lost soul rebels and intense emotion circle devotees have been conspicuous by their absence in supporting the Don't Stand Me Down LP - here it is. It's deftly edited from the full track and consists of a barrage of barbed poison arrows aimed at easy targets, while attempting to describe the love of his life. It's a curious and stodgy updating of Van Morrison's Caledonian soul vision of over a decade ago, but it has charm. It's the sort of thing you'll adore for five minutes and hate equally soon after. (Mike Gardner, Record Mirror, November 9, 1985)