David Bennun, The Guardian, November 1997
THE LATE '70s and early '80s were bleak years for rock, and most other things besides. One of those moments in history which seem to have had the joy sucked out of them with the slurping efficiency of a German vampire. Once punk had flared and dimmed it was all grey cerebral funk, angular art rock or worse, New Romanticism, a style of music so garishly effete only Little Richard-size dollops of rampant pervert hormone could have made it work.
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