Terry Staunton New Musical Express, 3 January 1987
Robert Forster looks a little like John Cale, or even Richard from Pop Will Eat Itself, but he seems to think he's Iggy Pop or Bono. After 40 or so minutes of competent, capable guitar-based pop (nothing special, mind, but listenable) off comes the jumper and shirt, revealing his manly chest to the throng.
A few strokes of his groin later, Robert is fakin' makin' it with Lindy's drum kit and then leaping into the photographers' pit to lay his hands on the mortal subjects gathered here today for the sermon. All very well when attempted in the Papal proportions of U2 at some stadium or other, but a bit of a dead loss when only about a dozen punters can be bothered to shake his hand.
Forster spends too much time running through the 1986 catalogue of rock poses and posing for cameras which aren't there. More time should be spent on developing the songs, although the recent addition of Amanda on violin helps fill out the sound and particularly works on Draining The Pool and Spring Rain.
The Go-Betweens have a few very good songs, but waste them by bashing the lot out too early in the set, leaving me wondering "What's next?" It's almost criminal to play Head Full Of Steam (dedicated tonight to Lee Remick on her 51st birthday) second in the set when it should be the killer climax. The excitement arrives too soon and all that remains is the leftovers. The Go-Betweens come without warning and leave without feeling (copyright E. Costello) and we may not bother going back into the bedroom the next time.