— Dave Rimmer
I didn't make a lot of rules for myself when I was in the midst of getting this blog started about fifteen months ago but one that I have really tried to stick to is to never dismiss a song because I reckon it to be "dated". As I believe I've already mentioned, saying music hasn't aged well is usually impossible to prove, serves little purpose and is kind of a cop out argument. Okay, so an eighties record has fairlight synths and a LinnDrum machine on it and thereby it's dated — except for when it isn't. More importantly, I often find it's a point I make when I have absolutely nothing else to contribute in terms of criticism.
I'm going to toe ever-so close to breaking this rule of mine here, however, with my claim that you had to be there to appreciate Adam Ant. I'm sure that his fans in the early eighties still love his music to this day but I'm equally confident that they struggle mightily with passing this appreciation on to their children or other impressionable youths. I'm fairly confident that had I been born (a) ten years earlier and (b) in Britain I would have been a committed Antmaniac or, failing that, I would have at least understood just what everyone else saw in them. But I was born (a) in 1977 and (b) in Canada (where "Goody Two Shoes" was a Top 5 hit in the early part of 1983 but I was too busy prancing around our basement family room to the sounds of Sesame Street Disco to pay any attention to the charts) so his appeal goes right over my head. His hit singles aren't particularly exciting (some are downright boring), he isn't a great vocalist and I'm not sure I even find him an especially fetching frontman. (Although many a YouTube comment would indicate otherwise, is comparing the singer's swagger to Johnny Depp's Jack Sparrow really even much of a compliment anymore?)
So, his records don't do much for me but that doesn't mean I don't hold our Adam in some esteem. His abrupt decision to turn his punk S&M Ants into a shameless cosplay pop outfit alone deserves praise from those of us who rolls their eyes at the mention of self-righteous complaints of indie folk who've "sold out". Here, he's all about flaunting seasonal conventions. Last week, we encountered Paul Young's ode to the virtues of poverty "Love of the Common People". Joining him were the likes of The Flying Pickets ("a pretty song", as Jools Holland describes it), The Thompson Twins ("a big hit": it probably didn't hurt that ver Hits chose to have it reviewed in two consecutive issues), Slade ("no hint of the old Slade") and ABBA with the annoyingly self-congratulatory "Thank You for the Music". A fortnight forward and Dave Rimmer was tasked with sifting through slush from UB40 ("crisp but quiet"), Rod Stewart ("a typically dippy love song") and bouncy yet plodding hack work from Billy Joel. Yes, the race for the Christmas Number One was on and smooch-tastic weepies and/or slick pop-rock looked to be the best bets for the coveted spot.
Bless him, Adam Ant chose a different direction for his take on a holiday favourite. While the post-punk snotty attitude had largely been drained from his sound by this point — no doubt aided by having the in-demand Phil Collins doing production/session work as well as a guest backing vocal from ABBA's Anni-Frid Lyngstad — Ant couldn't help but be a giant perv, a quality he couldn't quite shake despite long ditching the fetish gear. That his nibs would've enjoyed a fair amount of rumpo with ver ladies is something he hardly kept secret in his videos but this one takes it one step further. While he and his belle never quite get round to removing all their clothes (had this vid been made a decade later we might well have been "treated" to a buttock or even a deft VCR-paused areola sunrise) all indications are it won't be long they're starkers. Not exactly what the public had in mind for an Antxmas and good on him for doing so. But while the lyrics and visuals are suggestive, the record itself isn't up to much and nowhere close to as sexy as he must've been hoping.
Having recently been a teen idol, Ant's fans had by now departed for Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet and Wham! and weren't going to have anything to do with "Strip". Slightly older listeners may have stayed out of loyalty but clearly not enough as it only managed the Christmas Number Forty-One spot. The Dandy Highwayman's days as a top flight pop prince were done but at least his streak ended with a flourish of activity, gunning for something which he couldn't quite pull off. And it's not like it was ever all that good so it's not like it's aged badly or anything.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Dislocation Dance: "Show Me"
Rimmer's not overly impressed and I'm sure this was a none-too-special record back in the heyday of tidy eighties indie pop but it's a blinding banger to these ears in 2019. (I never said I may not describe a single as having 'aged well' did I?) Those Chic-esque chugging guitars were by this point more of a hallmark of the Rough Trade sound than their disco/funk roots and it wasn't as if having an angsty female vocalist was especially novel by this time. Still, "Show Me" is catchy and engaging and a welcome reminder that future James member Andy Diagram is a don of pop trumpet playing. There aren't a whole lot of other pop trumpet masters out there but I'm sure they go the jazz and/or classical routes because they know they'll never measure up.
I didn't make a lot of rules for myself when I was in the midst of getting this blog started about fifteen months ago but one that I have really tried to stick to is to never dismiss a song because I reckon it to be "dated". As I believe I've already mentioned, saying music hasn't aged well is usually impossible to prove, serves little purpose and is kind of a cop out argument. Okay, so an eighties record has fairlight synths and a LinnDrum machine on it and thereby it's dated — except for when it isn't. More importantly, I often find it's a point I make when I have absolutely nothing else to contribute in terms of criticism.
I'm going to toe ever-so close to breaking this rule of mine here, however, with my claim that you had to be there to appreciate Adam Ant. I'm sure that his fans in the early eighties still love his music to this day but I'm equally confident that they struggle mightily with passing this appreciation on to their children or other impressionable youths. I'm fairly confident that had I been born (a) ten years earlier and (b) in Britain I would have been a committed Antmaniac or, failing that, I would have at least understood just what everyone else saw in them. But I was born (a) in 1977 and (b) in Canada (where "Goody Two Shoes" was a Top 5 hit in the early part of 1983 but I was too busy prancing around our basement family room to the sounds of Sesame Street Disco to pay any attention to the charts) so his appeal goes right over my head. His hit singles aren't particularly exciting (some are downright boring), he isn't a great vocalist and I'm not sure I even find him an especially fetching frontman. (Although many a YouTube comment would indicate otherwise, is comparing the singer's swagger to Johnny Depp's Jack Sparrow really even much of a compliment anymore?)
So, his records don't do much for me but that doesn't mean I don't hold our Adam in some esteem. His abrupt decision to turn his punk S&M Ants into a shameless cosplay pop outfit alone deserves praise from those of us who rolls their eyes at the mention of self-righteous complaints of indie folk who've "sold out". Here, he's all about flaunting seasonal conventions. Last week, we encountered Paul Young's ode to the virtues of poverty "Love of the Common People". Joining him were the likes of The Flying Pickets ("a pretty song", as Jools Holland describes it), The Thompson Twins ("a big hit": it probably didn't hurt that ver Hits chose to have it reviewed in two consecutive issues), Slade ("no hint of the old Slade") and ABBA with the annoyingly self-congratulatory "Thank You for the Music". A fortnight forward and Dave Rimmer was tasked with sifting through slush from UB40 ("crisp but quiet"), Rod Stewart ("a typically dippy love song") and bouncy yet plodding hack work from Billy Joel. Yes, the race for the Christmas Number One was on and smooch-tastic weepies and/or slick pop-rock looked to be the best bets for the coveted spot.
Bless him, Adam Ant chose a different direction for his take on a holiday favourite. While the post-punk snotty attitude had largely been drained from his sound by this point — no doubt aided by having the in-demand Phil Collins doing production/session work as well as a guest backing vocal from ABBA's Anni-Frid Lyngstad — Ant couldn't help but be a giant perv, a quality he couldn't quite shake despite long ditching the fetish gear. That his nibs would've enjoyed a fair amount of rumpo with ver ladies is something he hardly kept secret in his videos but this one takes it one step further. While he and his belle never quite get round to removing all their clothes (had this vid been made a decade later we might well have been "treated" to a buttock or even a deft VCR-paused areola sunrise) all indications are it won't be long they're starkers. Not exactly what the public had in mind for an Antxmas and good on him for doing so. But while the lyrics and visuals are suggestive, the record itself isn't up to much and nowhere close to as sexy as he must've been hoping.
Having recently been a teen idol, Ant's fans had by now departed for Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet and Wham! and weren't going to have anything to do with "Strip". Slightly older listeners may have stayed out of loyalty but clearly not enough as it only managed the Christmas Number Forty-One spot. The Dandy Highwayman's days as a top flight pop prince were done but at least his streak ended with a flourish of activity, gunning for something which he couldn't quite pull off. And it's not like it was ever all that good so it's not like it's aged badly or anything.
~~~~~
Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Dislocation Dance: "Show Me"
Rimmer's not overly impressed and I'm sure this was a none-too-special record back in the heyday of tidy eighties indie pop but it's a blinding banger to these ears in 2019. (I never said I may not describe a single as having 'aged well' did I?) Those Chic-esque chugging guitars were by this point more of a hallmark of the Rough Trade sound than their disco/funk roots and it wasn't as if having an angsty female vocalist was especially novel by this time. Still, "Show Me" is catchy and engaging and a welcome reminder that future James member Andy Diagram is a don of pop trumpet playing. There aren't a whole lot of other pop trumpet masters out there but I'm sure they go the jazz and/or classical routes because they know they'll never measure up.
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