Killing Joke - Love Like Blood (EG)

At last! After five years making exactly the same record - deafening drums and guitar, a tuneless vocal - Killing Joke have actually written a song. It's not a very good one, and unfortunately the swish production does let us confirm for the first time what a load of twaddle their lyrics are. Nevertheless, it's a start. (Chris Heath, Smash Hits, January 31, 1985)

Killing Joke used to make great records. Then singer Jaz Coleman took an extended holiday in Iceland and things fell apart. "Love Like Blood" starts with a big build-up, but then goes on to . . . not much. It all sounds far too smooth and compact. They just can't seem to capture the feeling anymore. (Ursula Kenny, No 1, February 9, 1985)

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)

The Stranglers - Let Me Down Easy (Epic)

The days of sexism and chauvinism are long gone and a more mature, mellower sounding bunch of musical murderers take to the turntable. This is another track from the excellent 'Aural Sculpture' LP and well worth lending an ear to. Ironically, with a name like theirs, Hugh is asking for a peaceful and painless end when his number is finally called. And to add sympathy to his emotive plea, he's wearing a plaster over his left eye on the cover pic - a late contribution to the Band Aid venture? (Diane Cross, Record Mirror, February 9, 1985)

After the shifting, whispering moods of "Skin Deep", this is a glaring disappointment. Doesn't actually sound like The Stranglers at all, more like some hit offering from some continental group no-one's ever heard of. Very weedy and on the cover, Hugh Cornwell is wearing sticky plaster above his left eye. What on earth is the meaning of this? (Tom Hibbert, Smash Hits, February 14, 1985)

If you're not a Stranglers fan already then this song certainly isn't going to persuade you. And if you're a Doors fan, one listen will probably have you after Hugh Cornwell's blood! This is a drab and draggy affair with the worst keyboards break I've heard in a long time. Take it away, boys . . . far away. (Ursula Kenny, No 1, February 9, 1985)

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)

The Toy Dolls - James Bond (Lives Down Our Street) (Volume)

This record is so ridiculous I couldn't help but smile. Although the singer sounds like Minnie Mouse and the jokes wear thin fairly fast (yes, a note of cynicism has crept in - but I'm just thinking of my reputation), at the end of the day, who cares? Lines like "My name is Bond, James Bond/My hair is blond/dyed blond" never did anyone any harm. For juvenile delinquents everywhere. (Ursula Kenny, No 1, September 28, 1985)

Q. Is it remotely possible that the Toy Dolls could release a record even more excruciatingly awful than "Nellie The Elephant"? A. Yes. (Lesley O'Toole, Record Mirror, October 5, 1985)