This sounds like a B side. They've never been the same without Trevor Horn and they're no good at producing themselves. The song is weak and I don't like this four-piece line-up. Pleasant enough, I suppose, but I don't think it'll be a hit. It doesn't sound glamorous enough. Thumbs down! (Curt Smith, Record Mirror, March 30, 1985)
Rose: Lots of nice sounds. The main melody is dead good but I can't get very excited by the song. Jill: This is much more like the ABC of old. I thought it was weak at first but I really like it now. There's a good toy piano on it. I feel a bit cheeky saying this but I wish they didn't look so daft. (Strawberry Switchblade, Smash Hits, March 28, 1985)
Another single from this sugary twosome. Confused vocals with much the same backing as the rather-better "Since Yesterday". Give it another go, girls. (Marshall O'Leary, Smash Hits, March 14, 1985)
Sounds like one of those groovy records they used to make in the Swinging 60s - a touch of psychedelia, some tight harmonies and a 'neat' melody. If you have to live in the past I guess the 60s are as good a time as any. And with the might of Warners behind them no doubt the Strawberries will have everyone smothering themselves in apple blossom and chewing strange substances long before summer. (Paul Simper, No 1, March 16, 1985)
Despite all the slaggings, "Since Yesterday" had a certain lilting charm. This does not, ending up as a disposable dose of fairground sweetness. Strawberry Switchblade are neither stupid nor puppets but their success lies in their ability to fill a gap in the market. Nice girls with nice tunes who boys can harbour crushes on and girls emulate. Watch out for the Strawberry Switchblade dolls you can dress yourself. In the shops any day now! (Eleanor Levy, Record Mirror, March 16, 1985)
Having missed the summer of love by a few years, the polka-dot girls try and take us into a winter of whimsy with their own sweet and sour brand of '80s psychedelia. How nice. (Adrian Jones, No 1, November 10, 1984)
This begins, if I'm not mistaken, with a snatch of something famous by the composer Sibelius, and then ventures into a wistful melody, sung in brittle harmonies which touches the heart. One of the few records this week which isn't trying to sound like something else. (Neil Tennant, Smash Hits, November 5, 1984)
After their impressive first outing "Trees And Flowers", this Scottish duo waltz back into the psychedelic drive-in with a jaunty little tale of love and loneliness that tastes of saccharine flavoured popcorn and steaming Kia-Ora. More sexy than Everything But The Girl, more cosmic than the 13th Floor Elevators and showing that they haven't put all their strawberries in one basket. (Dylan Jones, Record Mirror, October 20, 1984)
Jill: I don't like this song, I don't like how it's done - electrobop, disco, acapella, whatever. But I do quite like the idea of this lot being pop stars - I don't think they'd abuse the position or anything. I mean they're so gormy. Rose: Yeah, I suppose they're a harmless enough bunch. (Jill Bryson & Rose McDowell [Strawberry Switchblade], Smash Hits, March 28, 1985)
Shriek! Lock up your mothers. The unholy sextet have gone back in time to filch this Roy Orbison classic, the original of which is probably nestling in your mum's collection. She'll love it—and when mums start buying records we all know what happens (step forward [Elaine] Paige and [Barbara] Dickson). Meanwhile, I'll donate my copy of the record to the first person who can tell me why the lads are garbed in Red Indian gear on the cover. It's a strange enough world, without The Flying Pickets having hits. (Paul Bursche, No 1, March 23, 1985)
Rose: Got to be the Single Of The Fortnight for me. Great vocals, great guitar, it's a great pop record with tinges of country & western. It makes me really happy - I just wish the charts were full of songs like this. Jill: I don't think this is the best version I've heard of this song, but I like it anyway. The cover is great - a highland cow in a purple loch! (Jill Bryson & Rose McDowell [Strawberry Switchblade], Smash Hits, March 28, 1985)
Soft, mournful ballad that harkens back to a slower Fun Boy Three's 'Tunnel Of Love'. It takes a few listens to get used to with flamenco beat here, guitar solo bordering on a wet HM there. OK. but Terry Hall's past record demands much more than this. (Eleanor Levy, Record Mirror, April 6, 1985)
Rose: This sounds like it's been recorded in the fifth dimension. Jill: Groovy! Rose: And as for the line, "castles in the air, a beatnik love affair" - what a topper! (Jill Bryson & Rose McDowell [Strawberry Switchblade], Smash Hits, March 28, 1985)
When a group has stamped its sound and style so thoroughly on a year as Frankie did on 1984, there can be a problem moving on. A short time later the same style and sound that took you to the top can sound dated. The Escape Act: where Frankie try to become a long-term chart-topping group, a Duran Duran. At first this appeared a strange way of attempting that feat. Releasing a fourth single off the album looked like going back rather than forwards. But it now seems to me that 'Welcome' is in fact saying goodbye, heralding the end of this particular Frankie type of song. On the B-side may lie the future. "Happy Hi" sees Frankie in a new mood. Quirky, whimsical, it is genuinely different. On the evidence of it I'll put my head on the chopping block to predict that Frankie won't be a one year wonder after all. Play Frankie, play on. (Paul Bursche, No 1, March 23, 1985)
It doesn't quite fit together. The presentation, the sleeve notes, neither square with the group their audience. The record, always a fine album track, is a bloated self-important grand daddy of a single, more to do with the self-indulgence of early Seventies types than the vibrant, exciting sensational scam that Frankie's sales and Frankie's marketing people tell us they are. It is in fact a beautifully executed piece of pomp and that has no part in the past, present or future as the full colour poster of this review might say. Disappointing. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, March 23, 1985)
Jill: Everybody's heard this song lots of times already. Rose: And I like the album version better anyway. I do think it's about time they did something new - you can only stretch a song so far, you know. Jill: I do like "Happy Hi!" on the B-side - Frankie go electrobop. (Jill Bryson & Rose McDowell [Strawberry Switchblade], Smash Hits, March 28, 1985)
There are some things in life too precious for mere words. A beautiful sunrise; the Smiths; the sound of stud on bone as Graham Roberts rushes in for another tackle. Such is "Cry". Kevin Godley's pure, choirboy voice soars away, layer upon layer of sound floats around and you sit back and drink in the sparkling Trevor Horn production. Gloss with class and beauty. (Eleanor Levy, Record Mirror, April 6, 1985)
Jill: A weak ballad in amongst some nice synth sounds. Like most of the singles this week, it's produced by Trevor Horn. It's got a horrible ending that made my backbone go all squeegy. Rose: I like the sleeve - it reminds me of a dress I had when I was eight. (Jill Bryson & Rose McDowell [Strawberry Switchblade], Smash Hits, March 28, 1985)
Feels Like The First Time: The award winning video was the first to use computer morphing techniques - to great effect.
This is simply gorgeous. Rose and Jill are Strawberry Switchblade and on this, their debut single, they deliver deliciously sad and reflective vocals over some luxuriantly delicate music. Helped out by the Madness rhythm section, Scottish pal Roddy Frame of Aztec Camera and Nicky Holland, the song is an immediate classic. (Peter Martin, Smash Hits, August 4, 1983)
Considering this has two of Madness, a Fun Boy sideperson, Atzec Camera mentor Roddy Frame and the much lauded Glaswegian duo themselves, this is a mite disappointing. It sounds like a computer designer's dreamy summer single, and turns out wimpier than Clifford T Ward. Anyone ready for the Caraveilles revival? (Mike Gardner, Record Mirror, August 6, 1983)
Strawberry Switchblade are two girls who obviously hanker for a return to the summer of '67 - they warble away to a Simon and Garfunkely-type tune with the air of ones who know they were born too late. Even with the aid of a couple of Madness chappies and Aztec Camera's Roddy Frame, the best they can come up with is a weedy, reedy ballad. Decidedly wet. (Karen Swayne, No 1, July 30, 1983)
Strawberry Switchblade have taken over from Bananarama as cutie pie press puppets with waspish tongues. Temporarily ensconced in the public eye, these girls can do no wrong. This is a gooey adolescent love song which lacks the catchiness of "Since Yesterday", although the trumpet playing is like a blast of fresh air. Full marks to the session musician. (Ro Newton, No 1, May 11, 1985)
A very pleasant ballad, but I can't help feeling that Strawberry Switchblade are deliberately aiming at the more mainstream pop market. Not that that's a bad thing - I just feel they could be really really interesting and obscure. (Stephen 'Tin Tin' Duffy, Smash Hits, May 8, 1985)
More breathy goo from the Scots duo. It's pleasant but only for those who sigh when they see the Andrex puppy nuzzling that rabbit on the advert - not realising he's only licking him to see whether he prefers it roasted or braised. (Mike Gardner, Record Mirror, May 11, 1985)
This record is mellow. It is for lazing around in the sun doing as little as possible to. The lyrics are great! With such lines as "I get myself a glass of milk and a colour magazine" they won't move the people to revolt, but they are about day-to-day happenings. (Simon O'Brien, Smash Hits, May 22, 1985)
