Saturate 1996: the transmission arrives at Space Station PSB by digital quadraphony, beamed one million miles into orbit direct into the captain's conical eye-receptors. The space race is over. Stop. Universe saved by anthem millennium dizzy pop. Stop. Congratulations. Stop. Prepare to begin your reassimilation into Earth music environment. Stop. Oh, and leave the silly hats this time, eh? Transmission ends. Thus, Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe materialized in the FBI's Pop Teleport arrivals lounge in Stockport clutching an album called 'Bilingual'. Having conquered the known universe with the career rebirth that was 'Very', their new opus set out to unite the Earth's nations with the help of Mexican horn breaks, at least two crap rewrites of 'West End Girls' and the drum sound from the beginning of Hawaii Five-O. In compliance with Terrestrial Burnt-out Old Farts Law Number 12, it was a bit shit. Phase One complete.

Now comes Phase Two. For the past six months genetic scientists, remixers and off-duty abattoir workers have been slaving around the clock to remove all of the choruses and tunes from 'Bilingual' and replace them with the kind of brainless hard-core handbag that a NASA investigation has determined to a probability of 68 per cent that The Kids Are Into. Et voil?! Seven faintly average disco pop songs with whatever heart and soul they once had ripped out, and the bare bones implanted into production line dance cyborgs, identical to the tiniest squeak. A passionless cybernetic coma of an album with no musical merit whatsoever in fact.

The usual remix rules apply. One line of 'Somewhere' is salvaged from the original and sampled ad nauseam over the sound of flatulent 'To Step Aside' is mercifully allowed to have most of its lyrics buried with it after being ritually executed by MI5's crack Tinky-Tonky Nonsense Squad. 'A Red Letter Day (Trouser Autocratic Decapitation Mix)' succeeds in being a good 1,000 times less interesting than its title. And, with seven songs stretched over an hour, 'Bilingual Remixed' doesn't half go on.

But what really nails it as the worst kind of remix album is the fact that it could not give a toss for the identity of the original. The mardi Grass carnival campy that gave the original its color and depth is disemboweled, pinned on the wall and spray-painted diode gray. It's a brutal tactic that works on 'Se A Vida E (Pink Noise Mix)', which wakes up from its Rio beach party to find itself in an Amsterdam crack house, being punched in the face by Tricky. But for the rest it's the musical equivalent of making The Great Antiques Hunt slightly more dull.

So Neil'n'Chris emerge from the Re-Humaniser as richer, more contented men, knowing that they are at the cutting edge of contemporary dance music and all they have to do is collect the cheque. The charisma of the Union Of Certified Kid Fleeces will see them now."
NME, July 199