Adam Ant, Strip

By Less Lee Moore

In 1983, having just experienced Adam Ant performing live to support Friend Or Foe (my very first concert!), I was a certified fan. I loved the videos for “Strip” and “Puss’n Boots” and was psyched for the upcoming Strip album.

The photo of Adam on the cover and the inner sleeve (looking remarkably buff and nearly naked) were almost too much for my 12-year-old eyes to bear. I put the vinyl slab on my stereo and heard the title track pounding out of the speakers in time with my heart.

As the second song, “Baby, Let Me Scream At You” started, I realized something was very wrong. Say it girlfriend, say it! Give me some chili sauce! No Morricone-esque guitars? Twinkly keyboards? Electronic violins? What was going on here?!

It only became worse as the album progressed. “Libertine” had an abundance of saxophone, and not the good kind. “Spanish Games” was a limp rehash of the entire Prince Charming album. And “Vanity” was a LOVE SONG. There were no multi-tracked vocals, no catchy bridges. It sounded like. . . music one’s parents would listen to. If they were swingers.

With the exception of “Puss’n Boots,” side two wasn’t much better. It was nice to hear Adam’s cute London accent in “Playboy” but the falsetto bit was rather awkward. “Montreal” was a slight return to form; it actually sounded like an Adam Ant song. All hopes were dashed, however, by the appearance of “Navel To Neck,” which should have been sexy with a lyric like “give me your mouth/I wanna kiss you” but which instead made me feel slightly molested. Even the stabs at Burundi drums didn’t help; in fact, they seemed almost obscene next to the panting noises and plucked violin strings.

“Amazon” was absolutely mortifying. When Adam started spelling out the title (“A.M.A.Z.O.N. Amazon!”) it was almost too much to bear. I vaguely recall cringing in genuine, physical discomfort.

Although I strongly suspected that the two singles were the only worthy ones on the whole album, I listened to it many times that year, hoping that I would eventually change my mind. Maybe I just didn’t get it yet, right? My consternation was increased by the fact that my mom and other female members of the family were in love with the inner sleeve photo. I didn’t want to crush on a guy my mom thought was cute, did I?

My cousin, who was a few years older, adored the album. She would come over and listen to it in my room, headphones on, for hours at a time. I was glad someone liked it.

Later, in the early 90s, when I had a resurgence of Ant Love with the release of the Antics In The Forbidden Zone VHS tape, I put the album on once more. Maybe it had improved with age?

Well, sort of. Yes, it was still embarrassing. But it was actually not as horrible as I’d remembered. I began to think maybe Adam was just having a good laugh at his fans’ expense. My sister, who had recently been indoctrinated into Ant Love, was equally as amused and terrified as I was; it was nice to be able to share after all those years of being ashamed.

In fact, it was the shame of even owning Strip that prevented me from getting Vive Le Rock a few years later. And that truly was a shame, because I know now that album is fantastic.

Postscript: The reissued and remastered version of Strip that was released a few years ago is well worth the money. It’s full of demos, recorded rehearsals, and alternate versions that not only prove the original songs are good, but also that most of the problems with the album are in its glossy, bloated production.

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RELATED LINKS:

Antics In The Forbidden Zone: Adam Ant on VHS!, Popshifter November/December 2008 Issue