You can almost hear dancehall audiences groaning Awwwww! as the fade slashes in; we were just getting into that, they’d have grumbled. It’s just too short, and divorced from its proper context (and two-thirds of its length), it doesn’t have the chance to make an impression. (6)
Quite pretty, but utterly pedestrian. Which (once again) isn’t to say it’s dreadful, it’s just… there, which is really not good enough by the rarified standards set by Miracles records. (5)
It sounds really good, but stripping away the quality of the performances, it soon becomes clear it’s not one of Smokey’s best songs. (6)
No, on the whole, it’s good. It is. It’s just not pants-wettingly good, and so it suffers by comparison to the original, which I love. Which is more my problem than the Marvelettes’, I know, but there we are. (6)
Ultimately, it’s not terrible, but the Marvelettes had come down from a whole different level to get here.
Contrary to initial misgivings – and compared to Woods’ previous sides, which had resulted in three musical abominations – this one is actually (whisper it) not too bad. (4)
Once again, it’s impossible to work out what kind of success its writer and producer Berry Gordy felt this record was going to have.
The stupidly annoying bits mean this can’t really be considered as being on a par with Xmas Twist, but the band performance is nearly enough to outweigh them. (3)
Lots of fun, but repetitive in the extreme; the repeated vocals diminish the replay value of an otherwise rocking little instrumental. (4)
Quite astonishingly wet, to the point I’m scared to play it again in case it drips on the turntable.
The whole thing is underpowered, a would-be dance record that never once makes you want to get up and dance.
Motown Junkies 