No – not the godawful paean to that homosexual homeland (or homoland I suppose) San Fransisco by the Village People. Not even the ironic – yet not – yet still rubbish version by the Pet Shop Boys (who have some sort of obsession with the word West as West End Girls conclusively proves). No – I am talking about the pop band from the mid-eighties, contemporaries of Johnny Hates Jazz* and Curiosity Killed The Cat**. Like the Pet Shop Boys they were that most curious of pop artifacts – a proper band made up of just two members. Not for them the idea of adding makeweight ugly blokes, or even a drummer. With a bass and a guitar they could make every sound on their records. Bar the backing track.

We Close Our Eyes was their best known hit. I understand that once musicians are proficient they can indeed play their instruments with their eyes closed. However it is not such a good idea when you are barely proficient as it is. After all its easy to close your eyes – not so easy to close your ears. Of their other hits I actually have a soft spot for Call Me – as I have been wracking my brains trying to remember it and only get the hellish Blondie track or Burt Bacharach’s limp, lifeless record.

Indeed we were spared much more from them when DFS and the Parents For Nicely Behaved Children got an injunction out to stop their second album “Dancing On The Couch” being sold in Woolworths. These days they can be seen – shadows of their former relatively insubstantial selves, performing on eighties tours playing We Close Our Eyes over and over again. You might as well open them chaps – you’ll see nobody either way.

* I sympathise with the bands hatred, but their music was hardly an improvement was it now?
** I probably would have liked them more if they were called Curiosity Killed The Family Cat.