A real Spanish Lolita of a song that beats its eyelashes cruelly and then gallops over you. Boils over a bit, but when the ingredients settle down there's a decent Morrissey song waiting for its flavour to be drawn out. It's the usual Creation syndrome: a young man blabbing into his leather strides. But the tears certainly bring the sheen up something lovely. (Pete Paisley, Record Mirror, July 4, 1987)
Showing posts with label Phil Wilson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Phil Wilson. Show all posts
Monday, November 25, 2024
Phil Wilson - 10 Miles (Creation)
A real Spanish Lolita of a song that beats its eyelashes cruelly and then gallops over you. Boils over a bit, but when the ingredients settle down there's a decent Morrissey song waiting for its flavour to be drawn out. It's the usual Creation syndrome: a young man blabbing into his leather strides. But the tears certainly bring the sheen up something lovely. (Pete Paisley, Record Mirror, July 4, 1987)
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