Adam Ant
Strip

Can an album live on just two singles? The first track, number 1 of side A, and the second track, number 1 of side B? Can there be an album made of two A-list songs, produced by mainstream (ex) rocker Phil Collins, and eight others, produced instead (and with a far superior sound quality), by the creators of the tracks plus the lesser-known (in fact, a historic producer who later specialized in the new romantic movement) Mr. Richard James Burgess? Can there exist a hybrid album of two types of different materials? Namely, the aforementioned two crowd-pleasing singles, composed first, recorded first, and released into the singles market before the LP, and the remaining eight tracks, some composed at the last minute, others taken from the drawer of discarded songs, and played and recorded for an LP with the categorical imperative to let the singles lead it, and nothing more?

"Friend Or Foe," from the previous year, did more than well, and even the landing in America was a constant string of successes. In 1983, Ant was at the height of music in England, his face was on every teen magazine, on all the posters and t-shirts. Practically the English equivalent of Scialpi. This whirlwind of success fully captivated Adam, a somewhat fragile guy, to be honest, lifting him quite a bit off the ground. In the midst of the new romantic era, this (truly) handsome young man (unlike Tony Hadley!) with his rather high hairline (which would recede even further in the following years), was no longer a punk, nor a rocker, and perhaps not even a singer: he became a polished image reflected in an endless game of mirrors. This album, serving as a perfect proof, with its emblematic title reflecting the state of things in the blessed year of 1983, sees the gigolo of rock transform into just a gigolo, who, in the rare moments he isn't making love in the hay barns of the moor (as inferred from the album cover), spends his time writing little songs, amusing himself by telling/inventing his love and sex stories, reversing the roles, adding spicy innuendos...

In the first track, or the title track, Adam interprets à la Elvis the verses over a cheap guitar and a two-bit keyboard and hums the refrain (which comes too often, or the verses are too few), while Collins plays the drums (but only on "his" tracks). Another guest is Frida from ABBA, who recites, in a "sort of special," the first verse of the track (obviously you invite someone who's sold 100 million records and don't even let her sing). A positive note is the presence of violins interspersed with brass. An overly simple and somewhat banal track like this one might sell as much as it wants – partly thanks to the nice video clip – but can it alone carry one side of a 33 RPM? Following is "Baby Let Me Scream At You", which seems composed for "Love Boat." Here our hero dons a white tuxedo and offers us a stylish and delightful game, a round of notes around nothing, stuff capable of making Cliff Richard seem like a serious artist. Faded echoes of rock in the special parts (the specials will always be somewhat awkward and not quite fitting), but it redeems itself in the eyes of genre purists "singing to make love" with that final "beaucoup de chocolaaaaaat."

"Libertine" pleasantly begins with brass, a keyboard motif starts accompanied by chill percussion. Delicate, the song, but too, too enamored with Adam Ant. The chorus is not very catchy but very muffled. A good energetic sax solo, a repeated special, always somewhat awkward but bearable, thanks to which fades a stylish but heartless track. Spectacular arrangement for "Spanish Games", imitation of music from blood and arena, very stereotypical with allusions like "kill me with your love," etc. "Vanity" is born from the ashes of "Libertine" (gosh, what unbearable titles!). Lacking brass, with a new wave start, a bass reminiscent of John Deacon in "Another One Bites The Dust", two piano notes so cheesy that even Richard Clayderman couldn't top them. Unfortunately, however – when speaking poorly of the specials – a shot of rhythm & blues comes in: Adam definitely needs to prove to everyone (including himself) that he was (once) a rocker. Then, however, when the special ends and the chorus comes back – with Adam’s falsetto interludes – one realizes that this song is indeed quite classy. Onanism (of quality) rather than love, but so be it.

And now to side B, or rather, to the side "Puss N'Boots". It begins with a meow and some cheerful choir parts that will always and only go “Puuuu-us/Boooo-oots”. Collins enjoys drumming between one verse and the next, between verse and chorus. Probably in 1983, he thought if he had written this cute and silly little song himself, under his name, it would sell twenty million more records (with consequent profits). The story is of a country pussycat going to London seeking success and achieving it to such an extent you see her crowned Queen of the United Kingdom. Only guitar that meows and a special with a keyboard that prowls. The track is nonetheless entertaining, in full Antmusic style, deliberately cheeky, with lyrics, however, making it clear the guy in question knows well what it means to ‘go heavy’. Unfortunately, the BBC disapproved and censored it. The only sour note of this example of friendly pop? The production by Phil Collins. Horrible how the sound comes out of the heads. Just compare his sound with that, more delicate and light, but especially more open, of the subsequent "Playboy" (I HATE THESE TITLES). Also, in this music, the song closely relates to "Libertine" and "Vanity", not only for the sound but also for the thing that already makes me sick. Then, suddenly, a sort of boy scout choir starts: nothing more than the chorus, above soft yet a bit clumsy keyboards. On a delicate bass-drum work, our well-groomed Adam Ant recites/flirts with his verses, with a red rose in the lapel of his tuxedo. The braggart’s special in falsetto is almost hard rock (“she likes Johnny she likes Joe but they both ignore her so”) and the brief guitar work following is simple yet well-placed. The choruses repeat as gradually, and even in volume, a second little song, in chorus and whistling, of the “playboy scouts”, handsome guys in shorts and knee-high socks come to life underneath.

In "Montreal" Adam has taken off his tuxedo and wears a silk robe, probably the one worn by Villaggio in "Fantozzi in Paradiso" before "seducing" Miss Silvani. He plays around with cool jazz and lets his voice filter through "as only we real hotties know how"; then there is a decent chorus. The piece deserves "salvation" primarily due to splendid electric guitar, which plays along in the verses and moves touchingly (but not languidly) in the chorus. Adam, however, has greatly improved in his falsettos. "Navel To Neck" is terrible from start to finish, it seems like an antsong left out of previous LPs, with those "oohs" on the chorus. The final "Amazon" saves what's salvageable with a good new wave among marked guitars, his sexy falsetto, a rhythm and blues special (this time indeed a happier addition) and a crescendo finale with even spelling out the title in chorus.

What to say? Pop chart episodes apart, idiosyncrasies of the de-reviewer for records "hastily put together" aside, project shortcomings aside, new romantic aside, the eighties aside, England aside, this album remains with eight songs of which three are useless, unserviceable to anyone who should listen to them, and detrimental to Ant’s artistic credibility. The music of the three sisters "Libertine", "Vanity", and "Playboy" are beautiful (they seem, obviously aside from the third, which they are, magazines of naked women), while "Montreal" is only cute. All this pleased and conscious delicacy however is not put in the service of an artist eager to make a classy record (an inspired Bryan Ferry); rather, it's additional gas for a brag that celebrates himself and the new world that has welcomed him as a new brother, that of the Cliff Richards - and Brian Ferry when uninspired -, that of “brothers of the new romantic”, that of “artists that in 1983 Phil Collins liked”...

"Strip" rightly didn’t succeed, and Ant’s popularity declined. But state TV’s (and the State in general) censorship played its part: Someone with the image of Adam “the first man”, would have succeeded with even much worse records... In 1983, after five records in five years, and especially after the first flop, music began to feel constraining for Adam Ant, perhaps even unappealing. The phonographic success – which didn’t come – was no longer his life goal: the star system was his new target. To reach it, he would leave music for film, supported by his charming nice-guy appearance, his “noble” features, and the success of his singles’ music videos, where he dances and acts and "stages.” Adam enters the first period of his life away from music. When he returns, the new romantic movement will be in ashes. Adam will seek refuge in “trusty” glam-rock, but won’t lose the gigolo attitude - and his poses.

An ex-punkster ending up on glossy magazine covers, tabloid newspapers, and later in movies (-ettes) and doing TV commercials for Japanese scooters (alongside none other than Grace Jones): more improbable than the country girl going to London, becoming a queen. Yet that’s how it went.