Bananarama's PWL commerical peak may have reached a panting climax in the late 80s with the breathless
Love Truth & Honesty, but these MILF's continued to plod away at their ruthless game with admirable restricted releases such as their France-only 2001 album
Exotica, which sounds like a brand of condoms from the late 90s. Their sex-hungry sound is basic, yet thick, ribbed and heavily lubricated with a dated sheen that could pass for their hey day sound: the pre-'chav'
Starz is fey and tritely whimsical, but the emphatic thud of the beguiling and murky
If is one of their best ever singles. Sarah and Karen stay ahead of the game and want seconds straight away: '
come on come on encore, I'm waiting for you' is something they regularly scream from their moving car through Essex with their windows rolled down - it's became something of a tourist attraction, with the girls known for favouring guys who are prepared to buy them kebabs.
Their enchanting 'vocals' are thinner than
Jamie Lynne's condoms, yet still manage to sound completely immersed in the sheer adrenaline of being care-less pop stars; their shared mouthed sounds (no solo's whatsoever) slur together like two shots of vodka doing double the damage. They mark their terriotory well with verses mumbled into their cleavages, bringing back fond memories of when I started a hollering campaign of gays shouting '
your tits are hanging out'at Karen when they performed at 2005's
Big Gay Out in London.
Finishing them off, the carefully thought over conclusion '
ain't no big deal, just do as you feel, no big deal' is the salty aftertaste bringing the track to a hectic end. These women do not care and long may they pant breathlessly with no discernable vocal range, just so long as there is a cheap ass disco beat propping them up - bras that fit come and go, but classic pop trash lives forever.
Bananarama's PWL commerical peak may have reached a panting climax in the late 80s with the breathless Love Truth & Honesty, but these MILF's continued to plod away at their ruthless game with admirable restricted releases such as their France-only 2001 album Exotica, which sounds like a brand of condoms from the late 90s. Their sex-hungry sound is basic, yet thick, ribbed and heavily lubricated with a dated sheen that could pass for their hey day sound: the pre-'chav' Starz is fey and tritely whimsical, but the emphatic thud of the beguiling and murky If is one of their best ever singles. Sarah and Karen stay ahead of the game and want seconds straight away: 'come on come on encore, I'm waiting for you' is something they regularly scream from their moving car through Essex with their windows rolled down - it's became something of a tourist attraction, with the girls known for favouring guys who are prepared to buy them kebabs.
Their enchanting 'vocals' are thinner than Jamie Lynne's condoms, yet still manage to sound completely immersed in the sheer adrenaline of being care-less pop stars; their shared mouthed sounds (no solo's whatsoever) slur together like two shots of vodka doing double the damage. They mark their terriotory well with verses mumbled into their cleavages, bringing back fond memories of when I started a hollering campaign of gays shouting 'your tits are hanging out'at Karen when they performed at 2005's Big Gay Out in London. 
Finishing them off, the carefully thought over conclusion 'ain't no big deal, just do as you feel, no big deal' is the salty aftertaste bringing the track to a hectic end. These women do not care and long may they pant breathlessly with no discernable vocal range, just so long as there is a cheap ass disco beat propping them up - bras that fit come and go, but classic pop trash lives forever.
