The Singing Sheep - Baa-Baa Black Sheep

When Richard Branson's Virgin Records made its first fortune with the million-selling 'Tubular Bells' from Mike Oldfield, the opportunities for the next step must have been countless, astonishing, heaven-sent...

Apparently not.

The company was still seen as being too small compared to the big names, so signing other groups was proving difficult.

Fortunately for my childhood, Branson made an interesting decision when his auntie, Claire Hoare, told him about the singing talents of one of her sheep. A crew of sound engineers went sent to her flock in Norfolk, and began recording the sheep in question - plus a collection of other farmyard animals.

Via the wonders of 80's technology, the baas, clucks, quacks, and moos were pitch-altered and spliced together to form a single that was released just in time for Christmas: "Baa-Baa Black Sheep". Beginning as just an ovine version of the nursery-rhyme, it follows a chicken-based crescendo with the inclusion of drums and synth and then, obviously, throws in a portion of Tchaikovsky's '1812 Overture' for good measure.

Oh, and the B-side? "Flock Around The Clock"

When the record was released in 1982, I was still three months away from being born. However, it somehow avoided being thrown out once the novelty had worn off, and so I had the pleasure of listening to it many times during my early years. I recall at least one member of my family finding the song "a little creepy".

I still own the record which remains in surprisingly good condition, especially considering my clumsy ways with the record player's stylus when I was a kid. Sadly I no longer have a turntable on which to play it, but YouTube (as always) provides the audio of my past.

"Baa" - A Sheep

Kid Jensen's Chart Blasters - Various Artists

So far, the most popular post here is about the Top Trax cassettes that were given away by Weetabix in the 1980s. Judging by the comments left on the page, I can only assume that there are lots of people out there that get as nostalgic about these kinds of things as I do.

Those Weetabix tapes got an awful lot of play when I was a child, but if there was one other cassette that could possibly have been put in the player more times then it would have to be yet another tape that was given away back in the 80's.

Smiths crisps (which later became part of the PepsiCo group, and thus some of the products became labelled as Walkers instead) gave away a 10-song track cassette in 1986. David "Kid" Jensen was the celebrity used to give the mix some credibility as he'd been a radio regular throughout the 70's and 80's and, when this tape was released, had made a move from Radio 1 to Capital FM as well as making a start in television.

The album's title is incredibly eighties: "Kid Jensen's Chart Blasters"

"Kid Jensen's Chart Blasters... from Smiths!"

My sister and I adored this tape and, as with the Weetabix cassettes, I am certain that my relationship with music was forged and moulded by it.

Before the music began on Side One, Kid Jensen himself provided a little introduction that still remains deeply ingrained in my brain. Sadly, the actual tape itself was accidentally left in a car that got sold/scrapped and so no longer can I listen to those immortal words:

"Hi, I'm Kid Jensen, and I've got together with the people at Smiths to bring you a hot selection of chart blasting hits. You'll be hearing from The Bangles, King, Cyndi Lauper and Paul Young, D.C. Lee, Bonnie Tyler, Shakin' Stevens, Dead or Alive, Alison Moyet and Michael Jackson! So get on your feet and jump to the beat with Kid Jensen's Chart Blasters... from Smiths!"

And then The Bangles' Manic Monday would begin.

In fact, we became so used to listening to the tape that whenever I hear one of the songs being played today, I always expect to then hear the intro to the next track off the tape. It seems a little wrong when Cyndi Lauper's Girls Just Wanna Have Fun doesn't begin as King's Taste Of Your Tears ends. But then, that's what custom digital playlists are for these days.

So, for those of you who remember the tape but don't remember what was on it, here's the track listing:

Side One:
1. Manic Monday - The Bangles
2. Taste Of Your Tears - King
3. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun - Cyndi Lauper
4. Every Time You Go Away - Paul Young
5. See The Day - D.C. Lee

Side Two:
1. Holding Out For A Hero - Bonnie Tyler
2. Turning Away - Shakin' Stevens
3. You Spin Me Round (Like A Records) - Dead or Alive
4. All Cried Out - Alison Moyet
5. Thriller - Michael Jackson

"Music is forever; music should grow and mature with you, following you right on up until you die" - Paul Simon

Nik Kershaw - So Quiet

Before I was about fourteen or so, my knowledge of Nik Kershaw's music consisted entirely of the three songs that came free with the Weetabix Top Trax cassettes from the mid-80s': I Won't Let The Sun Go Down On Me, Wouldn't It Be Good, and Wide Boy. I probably grew up hearing them several thousands of times and so - whether by choice or just simply through overdosing - they became favourites of mine. Eventually, a decade or so later, I decided I wanted to explore more of his music and so requested a copy of his 'Best Of...' album for my birthday. On the collection, amongst the familiar songs and the several other hits that had passed me by, were some remixes and B-sides. One of them, So Quiet (a B-side to Wide Boy), I particularly like.

I suspect my enjoyment of it is down to its simplicity. Whilst certainly not trying to take anything away from Kershaw's song-writing or his producer's skills, So Quiet stands apart from the others on the collection (and from the majority of his back catalogue) due to it lacking any of the frills and effects that can be found elsewhere. Aside from some synth-strings emphasising the chorus, the song essentially consists of just Kershaw's vocal and a piano accompaniment of broken arpeggios and occasional solid chords. Had it been selected as an album track, perhaps it would have been subjected to further layers of instruments, but personally I cannot imagine a version with drums or guitar: its wonder is in its simplicity.

(Incidentally, I keep meaning to sit down, listen to the song and try to transcribe the song's piano, as I've never come across any official piano music anywhere. If I get around to it, and if they turn out okay, perhaps I'll post the results here)

Lyrically the song isn't especially verbose, with short verses and the oft-repeated titular lines. Again it seems that simplicity is the key to the song but, despite this, it is clear that it talks of loss. One could easily infer that it is talking of the end of a relationship (certainly there is a great deal of love involved), but I suspect it more strongly implies death.

"I thought I heard a sigh,
As you waved the world goodbye,
While the snow lies o'er meadows like a shroud"

Although perhaps short on lyrics, the words that Kershaw has included seem to be delicately chosen and shine through beautifully (like the one above, and the one below).

"So when I think of you,
I think of violet and blue,
And all the things that make you stand out in a crowd"

There's sadness present in the acceptance of a goodbye, a smile in the memories that remain, and just a brief moment where perhaps the grief is allowed to take over in the calls and wails before the middle-eight. Finally, as the song reaches its end, there is a sense of irresolution with the last chords' weak cadence ringing out - suggesting that nothing is ever entirely over.

"Those who wish to sing, always find a song." - Swedish Proverb

It's Raining Men - The Weather Girls

Quite simply, I hate this song.

I cannot stand it at all.

Easily my least favourite song of all time.

The song really is rather privileged to have this level of hatred from me since I very, very rarely dislike a song as much. There is a lot of music out there that I will choose not to listen to, or that may not be to my taste, or I feel does not demand my time at all. But for me to hate a song, well, that takes something special. So, congratulations to The Weather Girls for managing it. There's some obvious reasons why I might not take a liking to this song:

The lyrics declare joy at an abundance of men being available... I'm not looking for men.
Therefore, it's considered to be a gay anthem... I'm not gay.
And also, it's sometimes considered to be an anthem for women... I'm not a woman.

However, there are other songs that could be described as such, and I don't necessarily dislike them as a result. In fact, in terms of determining whether I enjoy a song or not, it being a "camp classic" or a "female anthem" really plays very little part at all. Geri Halliwell (of Spice Girls fame), did a cover of this song in 2001. Whilst I'm no big fan of it, I don't hate it the way I hate the original version.

Nope... there's just one single reason why I dislike the song so much. And, really, the music itself isn't even to blame. So what is it? What's the reason why I find myself leaping across the room to turn it off if it gets played on the radio?

The god-awful music video.

There's a chance that, before I saw the video, I might not have minded the song particularly. But the moment I'd seen it once, I could never un-see it. Specifically, it's the awful chroma-keying (aka green-screening) that hits a nerve. From about a minute into the video, The Weather Girls look out a 'window' to see men falling from the sky. Except the angle, perspective and size is ridiculous and nonsensical... not to mention the acting. Then the ladies decide to leap from the building, and they are shown 'floating' down to the ground. At one stage, the chosen chroma-key colour is extremely similar to part of a lady's clothing, and so she's somewhat transparent in front of the city background.

My assumption is that it was an extremely low budget video - the rest of it certainly suggests as much. And clearly the whole thing is all very tongue-in-cheek and not expecting to be taken seriously at all.

But... for some reason... the awful special effects frustrate the hell out of me. And so now, even when it is just the song playing, all I can think of is those moments where things don't quite look right. I'm sure it is terribly unfair, awfully pedantic, and more than a little pathetic to let myself get worked up about some cheap video effect. But I do, so there!

I almost don't want to link the video here, but I will as a warning to you all!

"My heart, which is so full to overflowing, has often been solaced and refreshed by music when sick and weary." - Martin Luther

Weetabix Top Trax / Top Trax II - Various Artists

One of my first posts here talked about the song Young At Heart by The Bluebells; a song that I know and love, and has some good memories associated with it. Chances are that the only reason I know it so well is because we had it on a cassette tape that came free (with tokens, I suspect) from Weetabix breakfast cereal. The tape itself was given away during 1985, the song was originally released in 1984, and I was born in 1983. So I suspect that, without the tape kicking around my house, I wouldn't have ordinarily listened to it a great deal due to being so young when it was out.

But we did have the cassette.

In fact, we had several. Weetabix did two sets of tapes, one in 1985 and one in 1986, known as Top Trax and - imaginatively - Top Trax II. Each cassette has two songs on each side. I'm not sure how many tapes there were altogether. I still have six, and I believe that is all we ever had. Five from the original set, and one from Top Trax II.

I've had several visits to my post about The Bluebells track, which mentions the Weetabix tapes, so I've decided I'd mention all the tapes I have. Partly because I like listing stuff, partly because some people may be genuinely interested and (most importantly of all, considering the purpose of this blog) because these tapes defined my listening habits and tastes for quite some time.

From a very young age, these cassettes were played repeatedly. At first, played around/to me, but then later played by me. Long car journeys meant my sister and I bringing the cassettes along with us and shouting, "Mum! Change the tape!" after every four songs. I regard those six tapes as a single album of 28 tracks and, since I now own each of the songs on CD or MP3, I often consider compiling them into a Top Trax playlist so I can once again listen to them as a whole.

Here's my collection of the tapes:

Weetabix Top Trax/II Cassettes

And here's a list of what was on each of them (again, I point out that I don't have all of the tapes that were ever given away, so this is just a list of those I have):

Brian's Cassette:
1.1. Haircut One Hundred - Fantastic Day
1.2. Nik Kershaw - I Won't Let The Sun Go Down On Me
2.1. The Bluebells - Young At Heart
2.2. New Edition - Candy Girl

Bixie's Cassette:
1.1. Nik Kershaw - Wouldn't It Be Good
1.2. Bucks Fizz - My Camera Never Lies
2.1. Billy Ocean - Caribbean Queen
2.2. Irene Cara - Fame

Dunk's Cassette:
1.1. Thompson Twins - Doctor! Doctor!
1.2. Tears For Fears - Shout
2.1. Dexy's Midnight Runners - Come On Eileen
2.2. Kirsty MacColl - There's A Guy Works Down The Chip Shop Swears He's Elvis

Crunch's Cassette:
1.1. Tears For Fears - Mad World
1.2. Big Country - Wonderland
2.1. The Jam - Beat Surrender
2.2. Status Quo - The Wanderer

Brain's Cassette (this is the one with a torn label, so I don't know which side is which):
?.1. Bucks Fizz - If You Can't Stand The Heat
?.2. Thomson Twins - We Are Detective
?.1. Bananarama - Robert De Niro's Waiting
?.2. ABC - The Look Of Love

Bixie's Cassette - Top Trax II:
1.1. Thomson Twins - Don't Mess With Doctor Dream
1.2. Tears For Fears - Head Over Heels
2.1. Five Star - System Addict
2.2. Baltimora - Tarzan Boy

For me, the three standout artists from that bunch are Nik Kershaw, Tears for Fears, and Thompson Twins. Mainly because, several years later, I got myself the greatest hits CDs of each of these and discovered other songs that have gone on to become particular favourites. And there is no doubt that my enjoyment of music from the 1980's began with these tapes.

EDIT (05/08/12): I have just realised that I must own at least one other tape, because I'm certain that Nik Kershaw's Wide Boy was a featured track. When I return home, I must search...

EDIT (08/08/12): Yep, I actually have one other tape:

Brian's Cassette - Top Trax II:
1.1 Nik Kershaw - Wide Boy
1.2 Big Country - Look Away
2.1 Bronski Beat - Hit That Perfect Beat
2.2 Jim Diamond - Hi Ho Silver

Weetabix Top Trax II - Brian's Cassette

The photo above also shows how awesome my mum was, in that she'd type little inlays for all the cassettes, just to make life easier searching for the tape we particularly wanted. To be honest, I'm surprised I forgot about this one. Side 1 must have been played an awful lot.

"People go to movies or listen to music because they want to be inspired" - Daphne Zuniga

Everything She Wants - Wham!

So... one of the labels/tags I've given this post is, 'Guilty Pleasure?'. Personally, if I'm being totally honest, I don't think there's really such a thing as a guilty pleasure (hence the question mark). Just because you enjoy a song that many might consider to be 'frivolous', or a little too 'pop', or lacking any classic status, doesn't mean you should feel guilty about it. Some of my favourite songs could probably be considered as being too 'commercial' or too 'produced' or too 'manufactured'.

But, quite frankly, I don't care. If I like a song then I'm not really bothered as to how mainstream it is or isn't. I'll just hit here and enjoy it all by myself thankyouverymuchindeed. And Wham!... well... they were about as pop and commercial as the 80's got (and there was plenty of competition for that accolade, too). I know that and recognise that, sure. That's why I'm labelling it that way. But really, I don't feel bad about liking it at all. Apparently, George Michael (one half of Wham!, with Andrew Ridgeley) has stated that this is his favourite of the group's songs, and isn't so happy with some of the less-credible back catalogue.

I don't remember this song when it was first released, mainly because I wasn't quite two years old at the time (1984). I don't even recall hearing it as I grew up, nor when I started developing my own love of music from the 1980's. In fact, I even bought Wham!'s greatest hits album, but I'm pretty sure I didn't even bother listening to this track.

As far as I'm aware, the first time I heard this song was when I bought a compilation album of 1980's 12" mixes: 12"/80s/Dance. That was probably when it was released in 2006, so I was only about 22 years late listening to it.

It didn't take long for me to start listening to it on repeat, learning all the words, joining in with the oohs and aahs, mimicing the synth-drum intro (which seems to pop into my mind at least once a week), and ultimately letting it become the only song I listened to each day during my journey to and from work.

Unusually for a track by Wham!, there appears to be a little more of a story to the song. It isn't just, "I love you, you love me, wooo!" or a series of obvious rhymes tentatively linked together. There's a process, a verse-by-verse account of events that gives the lyrics a little more depth. Again, this is something I don't really feel can often be said for Wham!, and I feel a little silly for even suggesting it. But to hell with it, this is my breakdown of what happens:

• Guy starts relationship with Girl.
• Guy's friends say, "Watch it buddy, she's seriously materialistic and is just after money."
• Guy ignores them because, hey, he's in love.
• Six months later, Guy realises his friends were right: she's always after the next new thing.
• Guy questions how he can possible please her.
• Guy questions why he is trying.
• Guy points out that the relationship now just consists of him working so that she can have new stuff.
• Guy demands that things become less one-sided.
• Girl tells him she's pregnant.
• Guy feigns happiness.
• Guy warns that he can't take much more
• Guy questions how he can possibly provide for both of them
• Guy questions if he even loves Girl anymore
• Guy acknowledges that having all this stuff together is meaningless.
• Guy is aware that it will soon end...

Poor Guy, huh? Or perhaps foolish Guy for letting it get that far.

So...

As well as a guilty pleasure, I also labelled this song as being life-changing. I mean that entirely from just my perspective - I doubt very much that it caused any great alterations in the world. But, for me, it had a slight effect. Two years into owning this song, I happened to be in a relationship that I wasn't entirely happy with. Things felt decidedly one-sided, financial burdens seemed to be solely upon me, and I knew that things weren't heading the right way.

Then, one morning as I drove to work, my iPod shuffled to this song. I hadn't forgotten about it as such, so it wasn't some great rediscovery, but I hadn't really listened to it for a little while either. But up it popped, and I sang along as I always do. Two key lines hit me as I joined in:

"They told me marriage was a give and take,
Well you've shown me you can take, you've got some giving to do."

"My God, I don't even think that I love you."

Sure, I wasn't married, but that's not the point. The thing was, as I sung these lines, I made myself ever-so-slightly more aware that, actually, this wasn't working. It was as though I was reminding myself that I wasn't happy, and make think an awful lot more about it. I wouldn't go so far as to say, "Listening to this song made me end the relationship," but it was like a wake-up call. I was singing the things that I was already thinking, and maybe should be saying.

And so that's why I label as one of only a handful of 'life-changing' songs.

Believe me, I would have laughed uncontrollably if someone had told me, "Wham! will make you re-evaluate your life".

"Song is the heroics of speech" - Thomas Carlyle

No More "I Love You's" - Annie Lennox

Okay, so... just had a big surprise. My intention was to write about this song with reference to certain moments it reminds me of. Yep, just a little nostalgia-spree again. In the moments before writing the first words, I took a look at the Wikipedia page for it just to check the date it was released. Had a little surprise from the first paragraph.

This is a COVER VERSION?!

In all the years that I have loved this song, I assumed that it was written by (or, at the very least, for) Annie Lennox. Turns out that it was originally written and sung by a group from the 1980's called The Lover Speaks, who gained a recording contract with a little help from Lennox's Eurythmics band mate Dave Stewart. The group also toured with The Eurythmics. I can only assume that Annie Lennox heard it enough times to decide she wanted a go at it.

The original version is very mid-80's in all the ways I love and adore in so many songs. I hear similarities to Simple Minds, as well as power-ballad groups like Cutting Crew and Mister Mister. If it had been on one of the Weetabix cassettes that I mentioned in a previous post, and therefore I'd have spent my early years listening to it repeatedly, I'm sure I would have been eagerly spouting facts about the original when Annie Lennox released her cover.

But it wasn't. And I'm not.

I prefer Lennox's version by miles. I always struggle to answer the question, "What's your favourite song?" but this is certainly somewhere on the long list. The introduction alone (a single synth chord before the 'Do be do be's) makes me feel excited for the rest of the song and, as a whole, the song feels a little darker and honest in her version. The mid-section features talk of monsters and sounds of laughing (giving me those 'moment shivers' I talked about in a previous post) . It's... weird, yes, somewhat ethereal, but entirely fitting with the rest of the song.

"I used to have demons,
in my room at night.
Desire, despair, desire,
so many monsters."

And, oh!, one of Annie's final calls of 'You' that hits that higher note: it completes the song for me, somehow.

How on earth do you describe what makes you love a song so much? Lyrically, I have never found it particularly easy to translate and understand yet I've always managed to feel like there's some kind of story going on. The feeling the song gives me is that of fallen relationships, and a difficulty in finding a way to move on.

The original version, personally, just doesn't sound quite so heartfelt. The passion and audible pain that exists in Lennox's cover just isn't present when I hear The Lover Speaks. I apologise to all the fans of the original, and I'm sure they would scream in protest at my disregard for it. Sorry.

Aside from the pure beauty of the song itself when Lennox sings it, her version also reminds me of a couple of things. The first is going to a youth club as an eleven(ish)-year-old, and the song playing on a stereo in the main hall. Somebody went to skip it (probably preferring to find something a little more upbeat and party-appropriate), and asked if anybody minded. I piped up that, yes, I minded. In remembering this specific event, I also end up recalling other moments from spending time at that club: notably having a huge crush on a girl there, and all the silly little feelings that went with that.

Secondly, this song also reminds me of when my sister went and bought me a copy of Lennox's album Medusa. I had bought the single of No More "I Love You's" and played it incessantly, so my sister clearly thought I'd enjoy the rest of the album. So, yep, she bought it for me. And my response when she was about to hand it to me?

"Why did you buy me that? I didn't ask for it, did I?!"

Wow, I was a real brat :)

Needless to say, it was about a decade later when I actually bought the album for myself since, understandably, my sister decided not to give me the gift.

As a final note, this song has given me one extra pleasing surprise today. I was humming it whilst wandering the house and in walked my girlfriend, back from work. She heard me, and began to sing the 'Do be do be do do do... a-aaa' vocals. I very quickly learnt that she loves this song, and loves Annie Lennox. Musical connections like this are important to me, so it makes me very happy indeed.

"Ah, music! A magic beyond all we do here" -JK Rowling (Harry Potter & The Philosopher's Stone)

Don't Dream It's Over - Crowded House

This was a favourite song of my mother's, and I remember it being played on many Sunday mornings whilst she prepared a roast for lunch. She owned Crowded House's greatest hits album but, as far as I can remember, I think this was the only song that she really ever played with any great frequency. Although she liked the song as a whole, I think she especially liked it because of a particular moment in the song.

It is difficult to describe what the 'moment' is. I initially wrote it here as an "Mmmm-note". Then I thought, no, it's more of an "Ooooh-note" or an "Awwww-note". Labelling it with words is hard. For my mum, these particular moments in Don't Dream It's Over made her feel a little sad, a little happy, a little teary, and a little hopeful. It's a moment that can make the listener shiver a little, perhaps even make their voice crack just a bit as they sing along. There are at least a couple of songs that I can think which have this effect on me; this isn't one of them (although I do like the song), but is the only one I can remember that did it for my mother.

The moment itself is during the chorus as the word 'dream' is sung and held for the beat. Combining the note, the chord, and the word, gave my mum one of those moments.

"Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over
Hey now, hey now, when the world comes in
They come, they come, to build a wall between us
We know they won't win"

In memory of my mother, I have considered having the words, "Don't dream it's over..." tattooed somewhere upon me. I like the song, the lyric, the sentiment, and the memory. I don't know if I will ever have it done, or where, but I've thought about it.

"Music is a safe kind of high" - Jimi Hendrix

Young At Heart - by The Bluebells

Young At Heart (1984)

The Bluebells

Following on from the previous post about general feelings of nostalgia in Stereophonics' Dakota, I thought I'd mention a song that does cause me to remember a specific moment in time whenever I hear it.

As a young child (i.e. about 8 years old), the majority of the music that I used to listen to was either what my sister was playing, or my mum. At some point during the eighties, Weetabix cereal gave away promotional cassette tapes called Top Trax. Each only had four songs on, and they were all relatively well-known 'hits' (or almost hits) by fairly-current popular bands. I think we collected about eight tapes, and so we'd be regularly swapping them in the cassette player in order to listen to some Tears for Fears, or Thomson Twins, or a bit of Bucks Fizz. The tape with Young At Heart on also included Candy Girl by New Edition, and Fantastic Day by Haircut 100... I forget what the fourth song was.

As far as I can remember, Young At Heart wasn't particularly the stand-out track for me: I don't recall listening to it more times than the others. I do know that I liked it though, particularly the violin interlude (which later became part of a court battle), and certain lines that I enjoyed shouting at the top of my lungs.

"They told us tales
They told us lies
Don't they know
They shouldn't have told us at all!

How come I love them now
How come I love them more
When all I wanted to do when I was old
Was to walk out the door!"

Those Weetabix tapes are definitely responsible for forging a lot of my musical taste, and any long car journeys would have them playing constantly. I also used to play them on my cassette radio whilst sitting in my bedroom. This particular song provides me with the memory of a very specific moment in time whenever I hear it. It's not a huge event, not a life-changing moment, not seemingly significant in any real way at all I suppose.

I think I must have been about eight or nine at the time. I remember the tape playing away in my portable twin-cassette radio which was sitting on the blue carpet of my bedroom floor. Even though it was far too narrow to actually be comfortable, I was sitting on the window sill; liking the idea of sitting there and gazing out the window, and ignoring how difficult it was to actually balance on the strip of wood. My neighbour - she was a year older than me, and very much my 'crush' in those early years - sat at the other end. My memory isn't good enough to inform me what time of year it was, but I like to guess that it was the Summer holidays, because I know we both looked out the window at my sun-lit garden and the blue sky, and I'm sure we both tried to sing along to the song (even though I've only just learnt some of the lyrics via Google).

And that's pretty much it. I wasn't lying when I said it wasn't "a huge event"...

There is some significance in that moment, for me, as it does represent those wonderful care-free days of childhood when the Summer holidays seemed to last forever, when the notion of love was far more simple and naive, when so many things were not yet a problem. So, for a time-specific nostalgic trip, Young At Heart does a good job.

Incidentally, as a little final piece of trivia, it is only during the process of writing this post that I discovered Young At Heart was originally by Bananarama (although Robert Hodgens of The Bluebells is a writing credit, and was dating Bananarama's Siobhan Fahey at the time). Their version is quite different, and I have to admit I prefer The Bluebells' reworking.

 

"There is geometry in the humming of the strings, there is music in the spacing of the spheres" - Pythagoras