Songwriters Terry Britten and BA Robertson's "Carrie" is one of the most electrifying of all Cliff Richard's recordings. Cut for his U.S. We Don't Talk Anymore album (the British Rock'n'Roll Juvenile), it's a deliberately sinister and enthrallingly atmospheric number, revolving around the search for a mysteriously missing friend ("Carrie had a date with her own kind of fate"), further strengthened by Martin Dobson's haunting saxophone, Peter Skellern's eerie mellotron, and a growling Richard vocal which doesn't simply live the lyric, it lives in it.
In other hands, such lines as "you're just another message on a payphone wall" and "the young wear their freedom like cheap perfume" could sound trite. Richard imbibes them with both pertinence and importance, while the emotion in his voice colors even the title.
His first single of 1980, released that February, "Carrie" took Richard to number four in the U.K. and number 34 in the U.S.