NME January 1996

POP MUSIC, they tell us, has become too obsessed with the average, too enamoured with the everyday. We’ve got Damon, Liam and a football’n’Prozac culture, while the ‘80s had Le Bon, Ant and the All British Pop dream of swanning about on a big boat with your shirt untucked. Apparnetly we need our glamour back. They say.

The ultimate test of any revival, of course, happens right here, in the cramped and rather malodorous envirions of the singles cupboard. Does the new wave of New Romantics supersede the old guard with the merest flick of it’s ruffled collar, or are they just flaccid copyists with mascara than sense? Well, t’League weight in with a sparkling Hi-NRG pop sucker-punch swathed in synthesized sitars and containing approximately six-eights of a tune. Oakey wails like a wedge-haired banshee about his baby still not wanting him (give it up, pal), and suddenly it could be 1982 again. Only it’s not shit.


Melody Maker January 1996

ONE of those after-the-facts singles, of course, but oh, those backing vocals! Ooooh, that unabashed Oakey glide! Ahhh, those ludicrously Sputnoktastic synths!

Oh, yes, sorry, time to get back to work.


Muzik Magazine January 1996

Handbags ahoy! The League have gone for it big time with this pounding nu-energy epic, remixed by The Space Kittens. It’s a towering slice of disco drama with Phil Oakey – the first Sheffield sex god – sounding wild’n’windswept while his gloomy female sidekicks chirp wistfully in the background. If there is a New Romantic revival then who better to benefit than the League, who started it all off originally? Dandy!