Thompson Twins - Watching (Arista)

Nausea. It's the only word I can use to describe my feelings towards the Twins. Going to art school having a 'weird' haircut and (slightly) 'weird' clothes, a young mediocre finds the accountancy profession closed to him and promptly goes off to join a pop group. Pop! Get a producer get a video, get a stylist - get ahead. Unfortunately, such terribly smart business considerations don't allow for a spark of wit or soul in your music. But that's no problem; when your mediocrity and imagination match those of the music biz you're in clover. Processed. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, July 9, 1983)

Echo and the Bunnymen - Never Stop (Korova)

From the joyous, jagged intro to the juddering close, a hit and no mistake. With a bit of cello, heartfelt vocals, some disco percussion, a name-check for Russian writer Maxim Gorky and what sounds like someone tapping out a tune on the ribs of a skeleton, this is probably the best Bunnymen single ever. Easier to dance to than philosophize about, which is all well and good. Is this what Mac meant about them finding their "lighter side"? Whatever, sheer bliss. (Dave Rimmer, Smash Hits, July 7, 1983)

A more direct and, dare I say it, safer Bunnymen. They have established a bridgehead in the top 20, so one can forgive them for marking time. This record is distinguished by Mr McCulloch's strong vocal; some lovely keyboard work and absolutely no references to obscure novelists. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, July 9, 1983)

No don't, Mac. The truest of all rock groups continue their tradition of great singles. 'Never Stop' grabs you by the throat and doesn't put you down until you're pulsing with the feverish energy that's in all their recordings. This is going to make Top Of The Pops well worth watching. What will Mac do this time-strip off totally or just smash up the studio altogether? Don't stop watching! (Paul Bursche, No 1, July 9, 1983)

Sparks - Change (London)

Giant studio panarama from one of the precursors of electro-pop. Simply trashes the other rockish releases this week with a rare impudence and a desire to go for those massive, massive instrumental statements. Thundered synths, thunder clapped drums, jagged guitars, moments of quiet menace and yes, those thoroughly distinctive vocals. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, July 20, 1985)

Madonna - Into The Groove (Sire)

Of course in pop, in showbiz, the star personality becomes far more important than the artifact ... the pop personality is the pop machine's ultimate product. Its very raison d'etre. Nobody knows this better than Madonna. Initially touted as NYC's disco queen, she's since unstintingly contrived at a direct hit on Kids From Fame All American Celebrity. As such her songs are now only fit to showcase her presumptious assumption of stardom - success with all the lipstick and midriff and none of the right moves. Her current single "Into The Groove" is formulaic in the extreme and, like her public persona, is hollow. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, July 20, 1985)

Thomas Dolby - I Scare Myself (Parlophone)

Thomas Dolby, man or maniac? Nobody's been able to make up their minds about this oddball. Having Magnus Pyke in an early video did nothing to help his cause, but the superb 'Hyperactive' did much to lay the ghost. 'I Scare Myself' is a real gem. Snazzy and light, it swings along with Tom tinkling away on piano. This should give him a really big hit at last - and there's not a single synth in sight. (Paul Bursche, No 1, March 24, 1984)

Master Dolby leaves the lab, stops his quest for the perfect eighties synthesis of man and machine (so far a no-score draw), and delivers his most warming 45 to date. To do so he's made a nearly inch perfect copy of the Dan Hicks original, but nevertheless "I Scare Myself" is so hot with swooning acoustic guitars and delicately muted brass that I'll forgive him for that. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, March 24, 1984)

Clipped off his fine album The Flat Earth, this is something RATHER special. Written by the extremely eccentric songwriter Dan Hicks (ideal for Tom really), it's a stunning song performed with delicate restraint and sung in a way that brings tears to the eyes of grown men (and women). Touches of The Wild West and today's technology have created a haunting atmosphere. Fab. Single of the fortnight. (Ian Birch, Smash Hits, March 29, 1984)

Men At Work - Down Under (Epic)

Superbly crafted reworking of The Boomtown Rats' "House On Fire" rhythm topped off with hippy flutes and sung by an Australian so indebted to Sting he even nicks his fake Jamaican accent. Comes complete with a neat little storyline, custom-made for a video, that affectionately lampoons the homeland and indulges in all manner of tortuous rhymes ("language" and "sandwich" being one of the better ones). It's great. (Ian Birch, Smash Hits, January 6, 1983)

The best Australians stay at home and make great films. The second best come to London and become witty media people. The worst Australians bow to the buck and become second rate West coast rock bands. I rest my case. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, January 8, 1983)

The Boomtown Rats - A Hold Of Me (Mercury)

Muddy, mouldy progression of tired ideas hung, drawn and quartered by Bob's tenth-rate Jagger. The Rats always dealt in back cliches, but at their best - "Rat Trap", "Mondays" - they managed to find a song from somewhere. They don't here, and only Geldof's new found celebrity status can do anything to save this. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, February 2, 1985)

Poor old Bob Geldof. He does a brilliant job as the main force behind Band Aid, sacrificing months of his professional and private life and all some people can say is that he's doing it to resuscitate his own career. And it's just not true. Mind you, if it was, it wouldn't make any difference - this new Boomtown Rats single is too unspeakably ordinary to be saved by any amount of publicity. (Chris Heath, Smash Hits, January 31, 1985)

Howard Jones - Things Can Only Get Better (WEA)

Years from now, when the '80s are but a memory, I will still detest Howard's "New Song" as much as the day I first heard it, and squirm every time anyone mentions 'mental chains'. But ever since that rather ropey opener, he's been making increasingly likeable pop songs. This is no exception. The bubbling uptempo arrangement (especially good on the 12") masks a rather slight main tune, but the real killer bit is the chant. For the next two months the milkman, the hairdresser, the window cleaner and just about everyone else important in your life will be driving you barmy with their out-of-tune renditions of "woah-oh woah-oh-oh woah-oh, woah-oh, woah-oh-oh, woah-oh". A massive hit. (Chris Heath, Smash Hits, January 31, 1985)

Song construction kit: take two Squezy bottles, some sticky back paper, an outtake from Finland's entry in last year's Eurovision Song Contest and a smidgeon of garden fence philosophy. Then, get in some real fine musicians, beef it up a bit and smile. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, February 2, 1985)

Never having succumbed to the Howie `I'm just an ordinary guy with a daft haircut' charm, this one totally passes me by. He sounds as optimistic as ever (how can anyone be that chirpy?), but has dropped the synth dependence for bass and brass and a chorus of "woh woh woah woah woh" which gets more than a touch irritating. 'Things. . .' bounces along merrily enough but there's nothing to convince me that I'd like to get to know him well. (Karen Swayne, No 1, February 2, 1985)

The Bluebells - All I Am (Is Loving You) (London)

You know that power chord in the Stones"Start Me Up"? Well, The Bluebells have revived it to great effect in a song which should stop those accusations of wimpiness. There's even a hint of Thin Lizzy (circa "Whisky In The Jar") plus a chorus so catchy you couldn't forget it if you wanted to. An unusual choice for a single, but a good one all the same, and there's a bonus for dedicated No.1 readers. . . play hunt Paul 'Young At Heart' Simper in the video (clue: he's the one bell-ringing at the front). (Karen Swayne, No 1, February 2, 1985)

The best youth club rock band in Glasgow, the beefed up Bay City Rollers, crack back with an intro nicked from the Stones' "Start Me Up", rhyme 'city' and 'pretty', then rock some more. Top 10 I'd warrant. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, February 2, 1985)

Over And Out: A one off single following on from their 1984 LP Sisters, it would be their last single, although a revival of "Young At Heart" due to an ad campaign renewed interest in the band in the nineties. This single has never been released on CD.

The Icicle Works - Hollow Horse (Beggars Banquet)

Another splendid track from Liverpool's The Icicle Works. Neither "Birds Fly (A Whisper To A Scream)" nor "Love Is A Wonderful Colour" got the Top Ten placings they deserved. I was praying this wasn't going to be a disappointment and it's not. Distinctive, inventive and fresh sounding. Fingers crossed for a huge hit and definitely Single Of The Fortnight. (DJ Mike Read, Smash Hits, October 11, 1984)

I've always thought The Icicle Works tried a bit too much. Not so here, "Hollow Horse" is a roistering exercise in the big guitar coupled with a classic example of the 'northern' rock voice - epic spilling of emotion over a dirty old long mac. I'm surprised, I really like it.(Jim Reid, Record Mirror, October 6, 1984)

Hollywood Beyond - What's The Colour Of Money? (WEA)

If you can imagine a troupe of rampaging Apache Indians whooping, yelping and doing an Irish Reel then you'll roughly have the feel of this. It's infinitely hummable, quite irresistible and even has very nice cover. (Lola Borg, Smash Hits, July 2, 1986)

Perky, everything-but-the-kitchen-sink mix of pop styles, culminating in some very positive HM chording. Tumbled along by some cute military style drumming, this is cynical and clever - clever enough to win plenty of airplay. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, June 28, 1986)

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".

Sharpe And Numan - Change Your Mind (Polydor)

So here we have it, one of the most unlikely partnerships in pop music: steel-voiced, steel-faced Numan with furry dice Shakatak supremo Sharpe. I don't care much for what either do alone so I expected this to be doubly abominable. Not so. In fact it's rather good. The most amazing thing is that for the first time ever Gary actually sings a tune. Previously he's only ever mumbled in a robotic monotone so understandably the first few lines are a bit painful - but by the end he's really getting the hang of it. (Chris Heath, Smash Hits, January 31, 1985)

The most unlikely pairing so far this year features Bill Sharpe, best known for his keyboard playing with snooze specialists Shakatak, and Gary Numan. The combination is bizarre, but curiously effective. Gazza sounds as nasal and distanced as ever but there's more of a tune than on his recent outings. Can't wait to see 'em on TOTP either. Will Gary have talked Bill into trying out his new true blue lipstick? (Karen Swayne, No 1, February 2, 1985)

Shakatak leave wine bar, beam up to Biggles' futuristic bi-plane and tap out somethin' for Gary to get all nasal about. Not the next Chas 'n' Dave. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, February 2, 1985)

Alison Moyet - All Cried Out (CBS)

A lady whose undoubted vocal talent will help her outlast the more short-lived careers of other less gifted artists. My Radio 1 colleague Andy Peebles would rather wrestle with five hundred whirling dervishes than lose his copy of this record. Big hit, natural voice. No cosmetics needed. (DJ Mike Read, Smash Hits, October 11, 1984)

"All Cried Out" is the best of a poor bunch of solo singles. Over a smoothly winding Imagination type backing (Swain and Jolley produce) Alf offers a perfunctory plea of passion that says more about her vocal coach than her state of mind. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, October 6, 1984)

In no way am I the first to rave about this exquisite voice, nor, I suspect, shall I be the last. But I wouldn't let the voice distract me from the song. "Love Resurrection" was magnificent, perhaps the best song of 1984 ("Two Tribes" just scrapes best single) - and "All Cried Out" follows up that epic with ease. Alison Moyet not only has a great voice, she's also some songwriter. And the best may yet be to come. (Paul Bursche, No 1, October 6, 1984)

Stan Ridgway - Camouflage (IRS)

Graceful guitar and banjo country ballad, somewhat spoiled by its cute tale of Vietnam war camaraderie. Pity that such a good tune should be wasted on the rotting heap of American war apology. This isn't 'Rambo', but it's not a song about the effects of Agent Orange, either. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, June 28, 1986)

The Chameleons - Tears (Geffen)

So-so jangly guitar effort, sweetly backed by some layered synth and anchored around a simple drum beat. Would do good business on the preposterously named US 'Rock - Disco' circuit. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, June 28, 1986)

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - The Singer (Mute)

Nick Cave used to be in the Birthday Party and Barry Adamson was in Magazine, the others involved are new names to me. But who cares? The fact is, this is a damned fine effort from all concerned. Cave's lazy-lowdown-Lou Reed growl of a vocal covers a twangy acoustic guitar that keeps on coming back and everything is pretty laid back. You're at a party, it's 4am, the room is thick with cigarette smoke and. . . sorry, getting a bit carried away here. Anyway, 10 out of 10 for atmospherics. Howard Keel go hang yourself! 4/5 (Ursula Kenny, No 1, June 21, 1986)

Dominated by a deep three note guitar motif, this growling version of the old Johnny Cash song further indulges Nick's wish to leave the rock for the Rawhide. But it doesn't quite work; sure, the softly rising string background is a neat touch, but in the final analysis this is just flat. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, June 28, 1986)

UB40 - Sing Our Own Song (DEP International)

Here we have the mighty UB40 getting back to their reggae roots. This bouncy little track has a playful melody with lots of sweet backing vocals but there is a moral to this story. 'Sing Our Own Song' has a strong anti-apartheid message with the chant of 'Amandla Awethu' (meaning 'power is ours') ringing out from behind the chorus. If this is a taste of what we can expect from UB40's forthcoming album then it is sure to be a biggie! 4/5 (Paige Kilponen, No 1, June 28, 1986)

Bubbling up-tempo anti-Apartheid anthem lacking the languorous, dragged out beat of their best work. I always like 'em better when they sound a bit miserable, a bit dour Midlands, but this is OK. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, June 28, 1986)

At least this time it is their own song as they've thankfully resisted the temptation to lift yet another reggae "classic". A simple, catchy and pleasing song that wears its political heart on its sleeve and manages to do it without once using the words "revolution", "constitution" or "solution".  (Lola Borg, Smash Hits, July 2, 1986)

Fontana Mix - Catwalk (Compact)

Interesting debut Fontana Mix throw a lot of odd shapes and angles, making for an extremely busy soundtrack. Unfortunately the vocals are flat and the melody is, how you say, lost. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, May 28, 1983)

I suspect you have to see the video to make sense of this. I think there's a story in there among the nasal vocals and the Spanish guitar but the whole affair's so carefully contrived that I ended up checking the second hand on my watch to the drum beats instead of following the plot line. (Mark Cooper, No 1, June 11, 1983)

Bangles - Going Down To Liverpool (CBS)

Americans only usually know two 'towns' in the whole of Britain. London, because everyone knows London, and Liverpool - because it's where the Beatles come from. Thus, the Bangles in their quest to get a hit over here, give us a song the British public can relate to. With this in mind they offer us an immortal line 'Hey; Where you going with that UB40 in your hand?'. What? (Eleanor Levy, Record Mirror, April 6, 1985)

Moderate song with its moments of glory - such as the supreme incongruity of the West Coast trash thrash meeting this line: 'Heh, where are you going with that UB40 in your hand?' Makes more sense than the Easterhouse album, though. (Jim Reid, Record Mirror, June 28, 1986)

Psychedelic music was made to reach the mind. When breakdancing and Go-Go have spun themselves silly, groups like the Bangles could catch on. They're an American four-piece all-girl guitar group with a mean line in mellow harmonies - and an excellent live act. This lazy but rocky song is loaded with 60s influenced jangly guitars and jolly tambourines. Old hippies who've heard it all before may scoff. For the electro-generation, this is a new trip. (Debbi Voller, No 1, April 13, 1985)

I first heard the Bangles perform this on the Tube, and I'm glad to say that the studio version is every bit as pleasing. There's nothing spectacular about it, just very hummable harmonies, and a great chorus that I defy you not to sing along with. That said, pick a sunny day (not easy, but. . .), find a car, roll down the windows, and play it loud. Especially if your singing is a little on the, ahem, 'unpredictable' side. (Ursula Kenny, No 1, June 21, 1986)

I love the Bangles: they hardly do anything and yet they're hugely successful. They don't write their own hits, they don't always play very well "live" and when they do play they look sooo 'nonchalant.' But they do make wonderful poplicious singles and that makes all the difference. "Going Down To Liverpool" is a re-released flop but so what? - it's a lovely, bangly, jangly pop song that makes you feel that we might actually get some "summer" at last (if only in three minute bursts). Single Of The Fortnight. (Duncan Wright, Smash Hits, June 18, 1986)