Motown’s ear for this sort of thing was improving all the time, resulting in less atrocities year on year. That they didn’t actually end up releasing this is actually almost something of a pity; this is silly, silly stuff alright, but it’s definitely not awful. (4)
Confusing and irritating, undeniably, but not as bad as it could have been (or as it’s maybe trying to be); it’s actually sneakily likeable in its own annoying little way. (3)
Really rather pretty, and absolutely fine as far as it goes, even if it only goes halfway to where it really needs to get to. (6)
Never a masterpiece, but a corking dance rocker, very rough around the edges but definitely alive; a hint of a Contours we never really got to see, the Contours their live shows always presented to wowed audiences.
A gloopy, largely shapeless late-Forties supper club pastiche that goes absolutely nowhere and takes too long to get there. (3)
Much, much more than the derivative sum of its musical parts, pretty much entirely thanks to the band and to Marvin himself, now every bit the superstar.
Ultimately the song just isn’t good enough, and all the British Invasion trappings in the world can’t save a record if there’s not a decent tune at its heart. (3)
So bad it’s almost physically painful; scarcely funny even on the level of parody, and perhaps fittingly even the laughs to be had at its expense are cheap and short-lived. (1)
Impressively puffed-up, but on closer inspection it’s absolutely wafer thin, and there’s nothing here to get your teeth into at all. (3)
Really quite unimpressive, a sad waste of a good song (this was Motown’s one and only crack at doing Only You, trivia fans) and a once-fine singer. (2)
Motown’s musical standards had risen dramatically in the 18 months or so since this was first cut, and by those increasingly rarefied and demanding standards, this rough-edged R&B scribble just wasn’t up to scratch any more. (4)
Motown Junkies 