Big Country - East Of Eden (Mercury)

The guitars take something of a back seat here, as Stuart Adamson delivers a tuneful and competent vocal. Trouble is, Big Country are at a bit of a loss when they're not going hell for leather and bouncing around on one foot. Maybe the odd piano on your gentler moments might add something, boys. (Andy Strickland, Record Mirror, September 22, 1984)

The production on this record is truly awful. The instruments blur into one muddy, thrashing mass, completely submerging any hapless tune which might be struggling to escape. (It sounds the same on the radio, so I know it's not my stylus.) The B-side, a brutally massacred version of Roxy Music's wonderful "Prairie Rose", is even worse. Yuk! (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, September 27, 1984)

King - Taste Of Your Tears (CBS)

The first three times I heard this piece of jangly '60s "la la la" wimpery, I had to check the sleeve to remind myself who the group was - it's that unmemorable. I think it's meant to be the song people wave their fraying "Paul King's a really hunky geezer" scarves around to at concerts, but quite frankly it would be more at home backing a jolly cornflake commercial. And yet this is the same group who were responsible for the magnificent "Love And Pride"! It's all very rum. (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, October 9, 1985)

Everything But The Girl - Native Land (WEA)

Although the lyrics are quite challenging, this jazzy, late-night music is perfect to `mellow out' and 'get laid back' to. The only jarring note is the suspiciously out-of-tune harmonica in the middle. What's wrong with a nice bit of flute? (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, September 27, 1984)

I'm starting to think "Each And Every One" was a fluke. Nothing Ben Watt and Tracy Thorn have done before or since has matched their own solo work. Lyrically, "Native Land" is a brilliant plea for tolerance and understanding – in a town, in the world. But what little excitement there is in the tune is trodden flat by Tracy's lumpen, hung-over vocal and - on my copy at least - Smithman Johnny Marr's harmonica solo, which sounds painfully off-key. A major re-think required. (Martin Townsend, No 1, September 29, 1984)

Queen - Hammer To Fall (EMI)

The fourth single to be taken from The Works. Just who are Queen trying to kid? I saw them play a stunning concert at Wembley recently but I remember writing "tuneless dirge" in my notebook alongside "Hammer To Fall". Why should I change my mind now? (Dave Ling, No 1, September 15, 1984)

There's something decidedly suspect about grown men poncing around in frocks and false boobs, and Queen are certainly old enough to know better. That they get away with these sort of antics says something for the loyalty of their fans, but this mess of a song will test the dedication of even those misguided souls. An overblown, melodramatic piece of nothing. (Karen Swayne, No 1, September 22, 1984)

When people start referring to their musical output as 'product' - as Freddie Mercury did on Radio l's Saturday Live the other day - it's a sure sign that the tinkle of cash registers has become more important than artistic integrity. This time it's Brian May's turn to put a bit of money in the bank and, although his song's about as modern as his stage outfits (i.e. prehistoric), it's bound to be a monster hit. How depressing. (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, September 27, 1984)

Prince - If I Was Your Girlfriend (WEA/Paisley Park)

People call Boy George a "gender bender", but Prince confuses the sexes in a far more clever and subtle way. Consider: he's definitely a man, and most of his lyrics are steamy odes about how much he fancies women, yet he looks and sounds incredibly feminine and loads of blokes think he's extremely sexy. And now, to tangle the subject still further, here he is with a song about how he'd like to be his girlfriend's girlfriend, so he could help her get dressed and be privy to her innermost secrets. Which is probably a very erotic idea to the boyfriends of this world, but will leave most girls heaving a sigh of relief that, when they're squeezing their blackheads and moaning about men in the ladies' loos, their "loved" ones cannot be there to witness them. Confusing, non? (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, June 3, 1987)

Like it! Got a few tapes of his at home actually. Some people say that a lot of his stuff is too similar but I like that basic feel to all his songs. When you listen to the words they don't seem to go a lot of the time. Not that I'm saying he's mad or anything, he's just very creative and takes a bit of tuning into. I've never seen him live but I'm hoping to go to Wembley. Na, I'm not going to wear anything peach or black! I'll be wearing pink, dear! Don't put that bit in will you... (Neidet Salih, No 1, June 20, 1987)

Edwyn Collins - Don't Shilly Shally (Elevation)

Five years ago this man's not-very-ugly face adorned the cover of Smash Hits, since when he's gradually floundered into undeserved obscurity. Nevertheless, he's been very influential: the naive pop songs of his early '80s group Orange Juice Inspired practically single-handedly the thousands of jangly, shambling, anorak-bedecked indie groups so beloved of Janice Long (a somewhat dubious honour, Some would say). This is his first single for two years and, weirdly, it's produced by the Cocteau Twins' Robin Guthrie; this works, even though Edwyn's raw, twangy, guitar-laden rock 'n' roll is about as far removed from the Cocteaus' swirlesque gloom as you can get. Sadly, the record probably won't get beyond night-time radio, although anything which manages to be so drivingly humalong and include the immortal lines "Put this record on again and turn the volume up to ten" quite clearly deserves to be a hit. Pity about the abysmally designed Cover, though ... (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, August 12, 1987)

Orange Juice were a good old band and it's good to see Edwyn Collins finally back in action. This is yet another song with a strong '60s influence (I've got the '60s coming out of my ears this week!) with Beatlesque harmonies on the chorus. Ace! (Debbi Voller, No 1, July 25, 1987)

Dave: It's certainly a bigger pop noise than he's ever produced before but it's the same old diction and everything I love.
Simon: Wonderful! Strange choice of producer (Robin 'Cochteau' Guthrie) but it works. Great guitar sound but I'm not so keen on the sleeve, Edwin. You come and produce our next single and we'll do your next sleeve. (The Chesterfields, Record Mirror, August 1, 1987)

Culture Club - The War Song (Virgin)

George has come to the profound conclusion that both war and people are stupid, and since he delivers the message in just about every language except Lithuanian and Swahili, he obviously feels it's important. Still, trite lyrics aside, the song's so infernally catchy that I've been whistling it all weekend (although I can't quite manage the "Aaieewuuurigh!!!' in the middle yet), and it's got to be Single Of The Fortnight. Whether I'll feel quite the same when everyone from the neighbour's budgie to the weird bloke downstairs is whistling it too's another matter, of course. Oh well, I can't wait to see the video. (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, September 27, 1984)

There's been so much intellectualising about war – obscure allegories, murky metaphor – plenty of space left for clever clogs to say "War is alright if .. " So George lays it on the line, from his position a mass medium, mass appeal group: "War is stupid and people are stupid and love means nothing in some strange quarters." Embraced by a tune that sweetens the message without weakening it, this is the ultimate Culture Club song. We need all cultures in that club learning to say 'No'. Single of the week. (Martin Townsend, No 1, September 29, 1984)

"War is stupid", George reveals. Lyrics of true insight there. And a tune that succinctly combines all their previous singles, and a poster with the 12-inch, and an even happier bank manager. (Paul Sexton, Record Mirror, September 29, 1984)

Kim Wilde - The Second Time (MCA)

The good news to emerge from Kim's long absence is that she's now writing her own songs. The bad news is that 'The Second Time' is not one of them. Penned once again by Dad Marty and brother Rick it's a fusion of fashionably 'hard' sounds. But it lacks the fluency of good dance music and the killer punch of Frankie-pop. Check out her own 'Fit In' on the new LP to find – at last – the real Kim Wilde. (Martin Townsend, No 1, September 29, 1984)

Ricky and Marty Wilde (her brother and Dad) always manage to build a classic little pop song around Kim's vulnerable falsetto, yet for some reason she doesn't do as well in the charts as she used to. I've got most of her singles, but it's a sad fact that they were all found in bargain bins. (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, September 27, 1984)

The title fits as Kim tries again with MCA and starts by nicking the chorus from "Let's Dance". Still, long as she does something risque in the video it'll be a hit - that's the way it works, I believe. (Paul Sexton, Record Mirror, September 29, 1984)

The Style Council - Shout To The Top (Polydor)

The self-conscious searching for a sound that used to characterise the Style Council, has all but disappeared. "Shout To The Top" has Mick Talbot trading piano riffs with an orchestral backing that forms the song instead of just decorating it. And Paul Weller sounds comfortable copying no vocal style but his own. I think they just earned themselves a new fan. How does 'Cupofteano Kid' sound: (Dreadful – Ed.). (Martin Townsend, No 1, September 29, 1984)

Once more Mr Weller plunders the past to give us yet another passable imitation of those baggy-trousered soul stompers of yore. Personally, I've never been able to understand why he spends so much time and energy attempting to emulate something that's already been done - and far better - before. Must be all that capuccino. (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, September 27, 1984)

Playing spot-the-influence one more time - adaptations of the hard-hitting chords from "Backstabbers" and "War", a glance back to "My Ever Changing Moods", and still it sounds the freshest pop record of the week. (Paul Sexton, Record Mirror, September 29, 1984)

Billy Idol - Sweet Sixteen (Chrysalis)

Bit too mild for me. My kind of mellow's a bit more romantic than Billy Idol. I like reggae or slow soul for relaxing to. I wouldn't buy this type of record though I expect lots of young girls will. I don't think he really knows what he's doing here. He used to be a rocker, didn't he? I wish him well, but it's just not my cuppa tea. (Neidet Salih, No 1, June 20, 1987)

What a sad tale this song tells. Sir Billiam is so bonkers about his 16 year old girlie that he builds a room for her to keep a rocking chair in (i.e. he envisages the relationship lasting quite some time), only to find that the ungrateful little vixen has scarpered with someone else. It's very weepsome, with a lolloping rhythm and a complete absence of the usual Idol rawk'n'roll screech-guitar; in fact, you can easily imagine a knicker-garlanded Tom Jones grimacing his way through a tortured version of "Sweet Sixteen" in cabaret. Could Billy Idol be the Tom Jones of the 21st century? It's not bloody impossible, as the great Welshman himself might say...  (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, June 3, 1987)

Feargal Sharkey - Listen To Your Father (Zarjazz)

As Madness' own pop matures into a deeper, at times mournful, reflection on folk and their funny ways, so the first release on their own label spins an altogether different story. A Carl Smythe tune, "Listen To Your Father" is the 4-4 stomp of early Madness without the winning melody and hook lines. Sharkey's voice isn't well served by the brassy jolting action. The Ulsterman deserves a more restrained treatment than this methinks. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, October 6, 1984)

Although written by Madness, this song wasn't really considered suitable for the boys to record. So Feargal has the honour of singing it for the first ever release on Madness' own label. It's not a brilliant song but its sheer stomping, foot-tapping brightness almost guarantees Fergy a hit. (Paul Bursche, No 1, October 6, 1984)

This man has got one of the best voices around - yearning, plaintive and woefully sweet. I'm not ashamed to admit that, when performing The Undertones' perfect pop songs, he could bring a tear to my eye. What, then, is he doing on this foul pub-rock thingy? It sounds as if Chas 'N' Dave are in there somewhere. A terrible waste! I had to go and play a few Undertones records to console myself after listening to this. (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, September 27, 1984)


Note: Madness were obviously fans of cult UK comic 2000 A.D. Not only did they name their label after a made up word (roughly equivalent to 'awesome') from the comic but they also released a side single in 1985 under the name Fink Brothers celebrating 2000 A.D. law legend Judge Dredd, called "Mutants In Mega City One".

Billy Idol - Flesh For Fantasy (Chrysalis)

Billy's passionate devotion to 'rawkanroll' normally leaves me cold, but here the buzz-saw guitars, meaty drumming and snarled vocals all combine to produce a powerfully driving record with about 19 times more energy than anything else released this week. The tune's pretty good too, which isn't surprising seeing as it's lifted almost wholesale from Simple Minds' brilliant "Up On The Catwalk". (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, September 27, 1984)

Billy is the Idol of America's young nouveau punx. They pogo in droves to his full-throated rebel yell. But we Brits lost interest in that years ago. We preferred "Eyes Without A Face". The sighs without the pace. Wised-up, our Gen X-ile repeats the formula - prowling a steamy hotel room as the bass throbs through the floor and the guitar throws odd shapes against the wall. William, this is really something... (Martin Townsend, No 1, September 29, 1984)

Billy Idol's the sort of bad boy who runs home crying if you say boo, but I can't deny he's making some great records these days. "Flesh For Fantasy" is one of these despite the most outrageous Simple Minds rip off on the chorus. Big fat production and a big fat hit. Grrrr. (Andy Strickland, Record Mirror, September 22, 1984)

Eighth Wonder - Stay With Me (CBS)

Don't get me wrong, I'm all in favour of pretty girls flaunting it a bit. Silly boys with more money than sense will always fall for this kind of thing. However, the bottom line is that the much hyped, long-awaited product sounds horrifically like a Compact Records reject. And I'm telling you people, that is so bad as to be unimaginable. Unsubtle, unforgiveable hard-sell of a pair of big blue eyes. Does this girl have no shame? She certainly has no talent. (Nancy Culp, Record Mirror, October 26, 1985)

Here's another lot who've been "hyped" for all the wrong reasons; namely, that their lead singer is a "curvaceous lovely" who once pretended to be a pea pod. The fact that she can't sing for toffee and her group's record is squeaky bubble-gum trash which would drive you completely bonkers if you were forced to listen to it more than once doesn't seem to bother anybody. Such is the way of the world... (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, October 9, 1985)

Grace Jones - Slave To The Rhythm (ZTT)

Everyone at "Ver Hits" thinks this ultra smooth 'n' slick jazz-tinged ZTT production number is a work of unparalleled genius. Everyone except me, that is, who thinks it's all gloss and no substance. So there. (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, October 9, 1985)

Kept this one under your hat, eh, Trey? T Horn's latest love child sees a long over-due return to vinyl by Grace Jones. The lady is certainly not one to be manipulated; hence those illustrious fingers on the knobs haven't been permitted to twiddle to excess. An understatement perhaps, as it's rather difficult to ascertain exactly what the man with the grotesque glasses has injected. Ms Androgynous does at least sing, as opposed to sneer, for a change but, all things considered, I'd rather shuffle around to one of her earlier masterpieces. (Lesley O'Toole, Record Mirror, October 5, 1985)

The Ice Woman returns with a record that demands obedience. Taking up where "Pull Up To The Bumper" left off, this Trevor Horn produced blockbuster grabs the attention by virtue of its quiet, calculated power. Grace Jones in this mood elevates dance music to pure ritual. Her voice has a tribal quality that drains the listener of resistance while the backbeat moves even the most jaded limbs into irresistible motion. Imagine John Barry meets the Pleasuredome. Imagine a killing song. (Max Bell, No 1, October 12, 1985)

Prince - Pop Life (WEA)

While Prince is off looking for the ladder, singles continue to be lifted from Around The World In A Day. The latest has that distinctive beat, some crazy psychedelic writing on the sleeve and synthesised vocals that first saw the light of day on The Beatles Sgt. Pepper album. So far so good, and although a bit insubstantial, "Pop Life" has a lot of charm. I don't reckon he'll ever top the God-like "When Doves Cry" though. (Karen Swayne, No 1, October 19, 1985)

Yaaaawn. Prince is sooo boring. This is a stupendously tedious "rock" "workout" about horrible decadent "rockbiz" types putting "stuff" up their noses, nudge nudge wink wink knoworramean. Complete drivel. (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, October 9, 1985)

OMD - La Femme Accident (Virgin)

OMD have been scientifically proven (by moi, actuellement) to be one of the most irritating groups in the universe, so this pleasant, wistful, plinkety-plunk ballad comes as a bit of a shock. Mind you, it's spookily reminiscent of "Can't Get Used To Losing You" by ageing TV crooner Andy Williams the man responsible for inflicting those beaming Mormon songsters The Osmond Brothers on an unsuspecting world), which might explain things. But is it fate, or mere coincidence? Brrrr! (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, October 9, 1985)

OMD are supporting the Thompson Twins in America at the moment, which must explain why they're down enough to release a third mediocre single from the Crush LP. Three minutes of plodding and plucking through this slight nursery rhyme won't even dislodge one of Alannah Currie's silly hats. (Roger Morton, Record Mirror, October 19, 1985)

This week's art lovers appreciation award goes to (drum roll please) OMD, who have produced a swirling little ballad in the classic mould of Andy Williams' "Can't Get Used To Losing You", and have carefully packaged the splendid item in an equally tasteful sleeve. The third, and possibly the best, single to have been lifted from the pristine Crush LP even sees Andy McCluskey warbling along a la Feargal Sharkey at one point! Play it to your Mum and watch her swoon. (Anna Martin, No 1, October 26, 1985)

Simple Minds - Alive And Kicking (Virgin)

Being something of a Simple Minds zealot, I must confess that my initial reaction was one of intense disappointment. However, a couple of plays later I'm relieved to report a complete restoration of faith in Jim and the boys. "Alive And Kicking" is a regression from the searing, razor-edged bite of Sparkle In The Rain and a resurrection of the beeeeautiful music of New Gold Dream. A subtle melody is topped with lashings of that luscious voice. Play loud, and wallow. (Lesley O'Toole, Record Mirror, October 5, 1985)

Simple Minds' ability to transform the most tenuous phrases and simple vocal gestures into fully blown majestic big league rock is not a formula that can be dismissed out of hand. Forgive me then if I say I find the Minds sound utterly predictable. The immediate emotional effect is all here on a song which is really "Don't You Forget About Me" part two, but is nowhere near as catchy. Simple Minds' deliberate assimilation into American culture is boosted by the production of Iovine and Clearmountain, knob twiddlers to his majesty, Bruce Springsteen. (Max Bell, No 1, October 12, 1985)

Bit subtle, this one. At first Simple Minds' usual "glittering shards of sepulchral majesty" seem strangely absent, but after a few plays the little blighters sneak up on you from behind, revealing the song's true "grandeur". A "right little grower", as suave TV horticulturist Geoffrey Smith says on Gardeners' "very boring" World. (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, October 9, 1985)

Marc Almond - Love Letter (Virgin)

A strange choice for the follow up to "Stories Of Johnny". Marc contracts a touch of Bronski-itis and flutters his eyelashes on a lullaby vocal set against a galloping electro beat. In a sprint to the finish he just about keeps up with the rhythm to bring off a minor victory for perverse synchronicity. Get the 12 inch for the full, long-distance drama. (Roger Morton, Record Mirror, October 19, 1985)

He's known as "The Boss" round these parts, actually. But at the risk of getting the sack, I have to say that this one's a mite tiresome, what with a jittery synth backing that sets the teeth on edge, and a more repetitive and simplistic lyric than one expects from such an accomplished storyteller. Not one of his best. (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, October 9, 1985)

Subtitled "a simple message of undying devotion", this finds the willing sinner in a very romantic mood. The sleaze of old has been replaced by a lush melodrama, with Marc's vocals mixing sweetly with those of a choir. The hi-energy synth beat saves the thing from drowning in schmaltz, giving it a remarkably cheery sound after the depths of despair that the Almond of old indulged in. It must be love ... (Karen Swayne, No 1, October 19, 1985)

David Bowie - Time Will Crawl (EMI America)

It certainly does on this offering. Bowie's singles used to be events, now they're just perfunctory. It seems that I've heard the ideas and themes on this one at least six times before. How anonymous he's sounding today. (Robin Smith, Record Mirror, June 27, 1987)

For every brilliant song David Bowie has ever written (quite a few, really) there have been plenty of useless ones and, over the last few years, the proportion of useless ones has been growing at a quite alarming rate. But this is a good old-fashioned Bowie song – sounding rather like something off his 1973 LP Aladdin Sane – with an eerie, yearning tune and lyrics all about the passing of time. It's a bit difficult to work out what he's singing, actually -- it sounds like "Tim will crawl to the 21st century loos", which can't be right – but then his songwords are always far more evocative if you only half-listen to them and make up lots of "deep" meanings for yourself anyway. This is a v. wonderful record and its just a pity the rest of his ropy old Never Let Me Down album isn't up to the same high standard. Single Of The Fortnight. (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, June 3, 1987)

The Housemartins - Happy Hour (Go! Discs)

What endearing souls these Housemartins are. The sort of boys who probably wet their knickers in the school playground, wore shorts after everyone else had moved into long trousers and always, but always, look into their hankies after blowing their noses. Nice, normal chaps making the chirpiest, most heart-tingling records this side of St Winfrid's School Choir (well, maybe not that chirpy). "Happy Hour" is like Bob's Full House or Blue Peter set to music. Sublime. (Eleanor Levy, Record Mirror, May 31, 1986)

The Housemartins are, as they say themselves, "quite good", but this jangly little romp isn't a patch on their two previous singles, "Flag Day" and "Sheep". The lyrics appear to advocate taking one's clothes off in the kitchen sink, which doesn't sound very hygienic at all. On the back of the sleeve there's a little form to fill out which says 'I like this record because. . .(Answer in not more than ten words)'. Well, I like this record because its catalogue number is GOD 11, which is extremely cosmic. (Vici MacDonald, Smash Hits, June 4, 1986)