Pet Shop Boys can't decide if they want to take a critical Pulp-style
sneer at the hollow nightclubbers or make music *for* them, so you get
something a little incisive, a little dancable, and almost entirely miserable. It's a club scene hatefuck.
West End Girls is a tease, that drunken mellotron, that fat synth throb, thick with nightlife neon flicker and humid haze. The boys never find that high again though. Love Comes Quickly conjures a little bit of atmosphere, but everything else just sounds like the post-disco 80's: utterly disposable, grasping at a night that will surely end 2/5
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