"Turn Away" (Orange Juice)

Originally founded as the Nu-Sonics by guitarist/vocalist Edwyn Collins in 1976, Scotland’s Orange Juice gained a devoted following of UK fans who were drawn to their post-punk meets Chic-style R&B sound--a kind of stark contrast to contemporaries like Joy Division, which took a decidedly darker approach to post-punk.
Originally signed to the small Glasgow-based indie label Postcard Records, they scored their first hit, “Rip It Up,” off the 1982 album of the same name after getting a deal with major label Polydor.  As great as “Rip It Up” is (the bridge easily is one of the catchiest of the early 80s), there’s a song sitting in the middle of side one called “Turn Away” that is a perennial fave of mine. 
“Turn Away” is like a stew of electric Chicago blues, New Wave, early 80s funk, and synth pop, where everything inexplicably retains its own flavor yet melds together as a cohesive whole.  Each verse features Collins (channeling Albert Collins) on these wicked, distorted blues riffs that kind of burst from the right channel in syncopation with Zimbabwe-born drummer Zeke Manyika’s funk groove.  Then, the verse abruptly gives way to a bridge that feels heavily indebted to the chicken-scratch guitars and fat bass of Chic as well as former Postcard label mates, Josef K—a fellow New Wave/post-punk band that fell apart in 1982 before getting much recognition outside Glasgow.  The bridge is a note-for-note replaying of Josef K’s song “Heaven Sent,” a deliberate effort by Collins to show the defunct band some love.
Finally, the refrain feels like stumbling into a party where a punk band is covering Calypso tunes.  It’s tropical and bright with metallic synths in the background, providing an interesting contrast for Collins’s lyrics about a frustrating relationship, where each time he attempts to express affection, his mate emotionally turns away.
It’s the type of song that record execs hate: there’s no real hook, Collins only sings the name of the song once in the first stanza, and the AABA structure doesn’t hit you over the head with an immediacy that screams “this is destined to be a hit!”  
But it’s such a great groove, and it conveys the shifting moods and emotions of a strained love affair so perfectly that it doesn’t need to be radio-friendly.  It's listener-friendly.