Kings Of The Wild Frontier

Hooking up with Malcolm McLaren was a pivotal moment for Adam Ant, since the manager not only introduced Ant to the thundering, infectious Burundi drum beat that became his signature, he stole his band, too. Adam and the rest of the Ants had just worked up how to exploit the Burundi style when McLaren pirated the boys off to support Annabella Lwin in Bow Wow Wow; using the very same sound they had developed with Adam Ant. It was now a race to get that sound into the stores first, and Adam lucked out when he joined forces with guitarist Marco Pirroni, who quickly proved to be invaluable. Ant and Pirroni knocked out a bunch of songs that retained some of the dark artiness of Dirk Wears White Sox, largely anchored by those enormous Burundi beats and given great, irresistible pop hooks; plus a flash sense of style, as the new Ants dressed up in something that looked like American Indians with a velveteen touch of a dandy fop. It was a brilliant, gonzo move (something that quickly overshadowed Bow Wow Wow) and the resulting record, Kings of the Wild Frontier, is one of the great defining albums of its time. There's simply nothing else like it, nothing else that has the same bravado, the same swagger, the same gleeful self-aggrandizement and sense of camp. This walked a brilliant line between campiness and art-house chutzpah, and it arrived at precisely the right time; at the forefront of new wave, so Adam & the Ants exploded into the British popular consciousness. If image was all that they had, they would've remained a fad, but Kings of the Wild Frontier remains a terrific album because it not only has some tremendous songs (the title track and "Antmusic" are classic hits, while "Killer in the Home" and "Physical (You're So)" are every bit their equal) but because it fearlessly, imperceptibly switches gears between giddy and ominous, providing nothing short of a thrill ride in its 13 songs. That's why it still sounds like nothing else years after its release.

Dirk Wears White Sox

The original Ants line-up released only one LP, Dirk Wears White Sox for Do It in 1979. The album finds a young Adam Ant exploring the sometimes awkward fusion of punk, glam, and minimalist post-punk with bizarre images and disturbing tales of alienation, sex, and brutality. While the somewhat pretentious, overly arty lyrics and inexperienced playing are a drawback, the album offers a fascinating look at the Ants' formative years, capturing a raw energy that would be sacrificed for a significantly more polished sound on subsequent releases. Dirk is a strange mix of abrasiveness and campy swagger. The good songs are staggeringly brilliant but there are times you're reminded that this is a debut effort and that immaturity bubbles to the surface no matter how many times you remaster the original tapes. Nonetheless, Dirk is an incredible starter for ten and no-one seemed safe from Adam’s venom should he choose to spit in your direction. The album abounds with playful exercises in articulated Art-Punk.  "Digital Tenderness" and "The Idea" both rely on sly, whipping, sub-tribal gymnastics that reveal exactly why drummer Dave Barbarossa and guitarist Matthew Ashman were being coveted and considered by Malcom McLaren as suitable pawns in furthering his newest exploits. As is well known, Malcolm McLaren briefly managed Adam and the Ants during this period before the transition to fame, infamously stealing the Ants from under Adam's nose after McLaren realized that Adam was too headstrong to submit completely to being Malcom's puppet. Fortunately, Malcolm left behind his ingenious ideas for a successful new image which incorporated themes of piracy and romantic colonialism supported by a soundtrack that was heavily informed by Burundi Black: an anthropological recording of a specific African tribal music that came to be known as 'Burundi Beat'.  The long, downwards slide towards crass embarrassment, irrelevance, insanity and death began THERE.