It's sad. Pop stars of today have no idea what being a pop star really means. For the most part, they're churned out on a conveyor belt, packaged into submission and stamped with a best-before date.
Bananarama's Keren??? Woodward feels sorry for them. "In the '80s we were allowed to do our own thing - and we had record sales, which nowadays barely exist," she says, trying not to gloat.
Back in the post-punk era, the pop industry was democratic. You could wear dungarees, tennis shorts, budgie smugglers or anything you liked. You didn't have to be a black belt in fusion dance. There was no Auto-Tune or Photoshop, but that's how you got yourself a reputation for having a distinctive vibrato, like Belinda Carlisle, or posing creatively in front of paper backdrops, like Bananarama. If you really wanted to show off, you made videos on yachts. 
This might explain why it takes a good month to get a phone hook-up with Woodward. When we do catch up - I'm picturing her reclined on a luxurious cream sofa in the 15th century farmhouse in Cornwall she shares with Andrew Ridgley of Wham! - she's wonderfully arch. "The record label used to try and make us do stuff, like dance, and we'd say, nah, not doing that. There'd be a bit of arm waving and some legs working, but you'll rarely see both at the same time."

 Bananarama went on to sell more than 30 million records. Woodward has kept no memorabilia - although there's a disc hanging in her local pub - because she's never really stopped. She and fellow Banana Sara Dallin are working on a new album of material, and they regularly play '80s revival festivals.

 It's on that festival circuit that they often bump into Belinda Carlisle, who's able to adjust her set as needed to include her first band The Go-Go's hits, her solo albums, and more recent recordings of French chansons and kundalini??? yoga mantras. "We'll always have a little get-together with Belinda," says Woodward, who is delighted to be playing to crowds of 20,000 punters, all mad-keen to celebrate the "era that won't die", as Woodward puts it. "I haven't succumbed to yoga, though."
Now Bananarama and Belinda Carlisle are coming to Australia. Carlisle will be jetting over from one of her many homes - south of France, Thailand and LA - but she's easy to get to on the phone. She phones me directly, in fact. Old school.
"Everything was such a whirlwind that I can only paint in very broad strokes," she admits of visiting Australia in 1982 and being a host on Countdown. She does remember being blown away by Molly Meldrum's Egyptian-themed house.
Carlisle's memoir, Lips Unsealed, was published in 2010 and details her insights on the pointy end of pop. She's 10 years sober now and many stars have approached her for advice, though she won't name names. "I've been through addictions, infighting, egos and whatnot, so I have a lot of valuable experience," she says.
Still, The Go-Go's escaped the exploitation that, say, The Runaways endured, by deliberately not employing a male manager for the first few years. "We had all-female crew," Carlisle says. "Our manager sold all her belongings to get us over to England to support Madness and The Specials." The sacrifice paid off. Their debut album, Beauty and the Beat, topped the Billboard chart for six weeks.
Bananarama were similarly without a Svengali. They may have had a string of hits with Stock Aitken Waterman, but as Woodward says, Bananarama had enjoyed more success than them at that point. Once dubbed "Schlock, Aimless and Waterdown" by a newspaper, SAW were the forefathers of assembly-line pop. "We went to them with the idea of doing Venus and they didn't want to initially, because they said you couldn't have guitars in a pop song."
A year after third member Siobhan Fahey left Bananarama in 1988, the band went on a world tour for the first and last time, with new member Jacquie O'Sullivan. "We weren't required to tour by the label," Woodward marvels. "They would have preferred to ship us from country to country doing endless interviews and photo shoots, because we were perceived as a magazine act. We had to insist."
Woodward refers to the '90s as "the lean years", though Carlisle fared better with her solo hits. Cruelly, one-finger Euro-synth songs from Ace of Base, Eiffel 65 and 2 Unlimited survived the pop apocalypse like cockroaches. The Go-Go's split a few times, but have been semi-active since 1999. However, Carlisle says the new album that was to be recorded with producer Linda Perry has been shelved. "We're doing our last tour in   August 2016," she says. "I know myself that I would like to leave on a high note and with some sort of dignity."

 Carlisle will be releasing her mantra album Wilder Shores this year, and Bananarama - who have existed as a duo since 1992 - are halfway through their own new recording. Expect all the hits at the Sydney shows, though, and yes, Belinda will be playing Summer Rain. In the spirit of things, support comes from Wang Chung??? and the Chantoozies??? for Bananarama, and Pseudo Echo for Belinda.
As a distraction from the dreaded long-haul flight, Bananarama plan to compile notes for a memoir that should make Gen Y pop stars reassess their lives. "It is a great story," Woodward says with satisfaction. "We do spend most of our time laughing."
Bananarama play Palais Theatre, St Kilda, on   February 13. Belinda Carlisle plays Melbourne Zoo on   March 12.
Sara Dallin, Keren Woodward and Siobhan Fahey of Bananarama back in the '80s.

Edgier than you think
Being Belinda and Bananarama wasn't all bop bop shoo be doo wah.

Punk underpinnings
BELINDA: Carlisle sung as Donna Rhea in LA punk bands, before joining The Germs as drummer Dotti Danger. Of her first Go-Go's gigs she says, "I thought I was hot shit, but then I listened back to it and I was horrible".
BANANARAMA: "We lived at the Sex Pistols' house because we were asked to vacate our room at the YWCA for 'keeping late hours'. Paul Cook from the Pistols told someone about us, who paid for a demo, and then Terry Hall from Fun Boy Three wanted to record with us."
Belinda Carlisle and The Go-Gos during their 1982 Australian tour.
Altered images
 BELINDA: "The Go-Go's were America's sweethearts, but there was a real dichotomy between our wholesome look and the lyrics. If someone was really listening, especially with the third album, Talk Show, they would see these girls were troubled."
BANANARAMA: "We were so shy that we moved as one unit. If one went to the ladies, the others went as well. People thought we were intimidating, especially once we'd had a few drinks, but when I look back we were virtually on top of each other, holding hands. We sounded so stupid."
Big gay hearts
 BELINDA: The singer attributes The Go-Go's Valley of the Dolls vibe to their gay fan base, but she's also a marriage equality activist, as is her gay son Mason.
BANANARAMA: "We got a gay following around the time we started using camp dancers who were stripped to the waist in cycling shorts and aviators. Quite a few of our followers seemed to want to be Sarah, but I think that was the big blonde hair."