“Stupid Cupid” on the other hand deploys its gimmicks with confidence and humour. That –tzoinng!– guitar sound; the sassy handclaps; the cute voicebreaks – but these things wouldn’t work if the song itself wasn’t so fun. “Stupid Cupid” is a song I recognise at once as my pop, modern pop – self-aware, as sexy as it can get away with, built on the most up-to-date chassis in the shop, immediately adorable. The song stops after a couple of seconds for Connie to sashay in: it’s a great, calculated moment and also a fine example of how ably pop producers were exploiting the sound and excitement of rock and roll, adding craft and money to play little symphonies on its audience’s hormones and hopes.
(The lead track, “Carolina Moon”, is less arresting but awfully dreamy, a country lullaby which lets Francis shimmy and swoon up and down her vocal range as she wonders if a boy’s wondering too.)