The Human League: Didn't We Used To Be The Human League?
Stuart Maconie, Q, February 1995
WITH SOME groups, it is records on the Stax and Okeh record labels; with others it is fine wines or the tailoring of Messrs Miyake or Muegler; with yet others it is the energising crystalline exports of various small, brutish South American dictatorships. All bands have something they love, something they will argue about, the discussions of whose relative values occupy many a numbing stretch of tarmac. The Human League are no exception.
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