In keeping with the overall theme so far of Motown’s most spectacular winter, this is yet another established Motown artist subtly raising their game to a whole new level; if, this time, it’s more about the anticipation of what it means for future records than the one we’re listening to right now, this is still awfully nice. (7)
Is it a good record? Yes, absolutely it is – the song is solid, the hooks are catchy, the production is appealing, the lead vocal is okay, the whole package is nice indeed. Would I swap Frank Wilson’s superb upcoming writing and production work behind the scenes for the chance to hear ten or twelve more of these? Not on your life. And apparently, neither would he. (7)
Your happiness is guaranteed. (10)
…total, irredeemable garbage, the absolute worst of all Martin’s six sides for Motown, and a fitting note to end one of the most improbable careers in Motown history, as incongruous as anything from Irene Ryan, Albert Finney or the Abbey Tavern Singers. (1)
The germ of a good song that needed some more polish, and a group who needed another couple of takes to get everything just right. (5)
A super record, dripping with bitter ferocity; considering the tender loveliness of the A-side, this is very much the other side of Brenda Holloway in every sense, but no worse for it. Vivid and unforgettable. (8)
If you were to suggest this was a piece of throwaway novelty fluff there’s not much I could say in its defence, but nonetheless I think when it’s over, the good just about outweighs the bad. (5)
It’s not a bad little song, but it’s so badly performed that it’s actually painful to listen to in places, and that all comes down to the vocalist. Sorry, Patrice. (2)
Ultimately a weak record which is all the more frustrating because it could have been genuinely superb. A pity. (4)
