The Coventry trio's fourth album is sometimes ham-fisted, but always heartfelt
Bowie, David : Thursday's child
[I]NME [/I]duly throws up all over the smug, expensive sleeve of his record.
album. This starts off all swaying synths and chart ballad material before the great warbler himself comes in. And yikes! It's Gary Barlow!!! With female singers whispering the chorus and poignant lovelorn lyrics!
'Thursday's Child' is exactly the kind of song that
soundtracks the point where lovers' eyes meet for the first time in the worst romantic comedy ever. The point where your popcorn suddenly loses its attraction. The point where you suddenly become murderous before couples holding hands. This is a song you'd play to torture people, not win them over to your charming ways when you bring them in for the proverbial coffee.
David moans, "Sometimes I cry my heart to sleep/Nothing prepares me for your smile, lighting the darkness of your soul". NME duly throws up all over the smug, expensive sleeve of his record.
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