Melody Maker
6 April 1985
ROTTEN FRUIT
STRAWBERRY SWITCHBLADE
STRAWBERRY SWITCHBLADE
Korova
Polka dots move in and out of fashion almost as fast as today’s paragons of pop become tomorrow’s parody of themselves. Strawberry Switchblade have endured much for just one hit single, have worked hard, and have, sadly, taken the soft option for their debut album by banking on a glamorous coat of production designed to conceal famine-struck tunes, and enhance the duo’s tremulous, sylph-like femininity.
Their undoubted commitment to sexual equality is severely handicapped by a slice of vinyl that has all the depth of vision of lip gloss. The twee Scottish lasses look like they’ve been kidnapped from someone’s psychedelic wedding cake – and sound like they’ve fallen through all eight layers!
‘Since Yesterday’ carries the banner for songs welded together by Rose MacDowell’s [sic] leaning, Sixties melodies that sway, but don’t falter with the thumping bombardment of pre-programmed rhythm tracks. Jill’s fragile chant washes over her partner’s wisping canticle as they try to restore a sense of innocence to ideas hijacked from yesteryear, and synthesised horn arrangements that should have been sold for scrap even earlier.
Though their combined efforts are as frail and pasty as puff pastry, the Strawberries accentuate their vulnerability by juxtaposing flouncy, celestial harmonies swaythed in strumming semi-acoustics with the merciless sten-gun drum attack – Switchblade’s terms of endearment.
‘Another Day’ and ‘Little River’ are both hammered into a palpable dough by the same electrobop technique of ‘Since Yesterday’, whose ephemeral charm decays the more it is used, and the more it is played. However, this trail of pillaged orchestration is halted as the duo’s winsome strum of strings is allowed to sigh and smile with ‘Deep Water’ and Rose’s plaintive whisper rises above the market fabrication that bolsters most their ragged, hollow songs.
The woeful lack of diversity between tracks may highlight a lack of confidence rather than a missing imagination, but doubts are raised with each repetition of their souffle and treacle formula: Excursions into ballads such as ‘Little River’ and ‘Being Cold’ stray from a successful recipe, and founder through ineffective, half-baked lyrics.
Using an image to sustain a career is fine and dandy as long as you either have the ability to eventually support glad rags with rich and visceral songs, or have the agility to change styles of dress each time their novelty value was worn out. Switchblade wear their dresses well, but there is little on this disappointing first collection to suppose that, when the vogue for folk and polka dots fades into the vagueries of fashion, there will be anything left but ribbons and curls.
TED MICO