Adam Ant’s career is one of the most fascinating battles between a pop star and the British press — a war fought in headlines, videos, and even in his lyrics. As a kid (like many Americans my age), I first knew him only as the guy behind Goody Two Shoes, but over time I came to see his catalog as not only as a tour-de-force of musical versatility, but also map of resilience. In the wake of betrayal, critical drubbing, and mental health issues, Ant was a survivor. This article will focus on his crusade against the British media.
Adam Ant was originally in a punk band dubbed Bazooka Joe. But when he wanted to form Adam and the Ants, he incorporated the moody elements of post-punk. Their debut, Dirk Wears White Sox is a great example of a “just broke away from punk” album, and believe it or not the press liked him. Indeed, Zerox has driving punk energy but benefits further from being more melodic. Lyrically its clever too, poking fun at Bowie copycats. Cleopatra and Cartrouble are also good examples of Ant’s early, more punchy sound. But the goodwill came to a halt when Malcolm McClaren, of Sex Pistols fame, stole Adam Ant’s backing band to form Bow Wow Wow (all’s fair in love and anarchy). This was egg on Ant’s face in the eyes of the British media.
Adam Ant got off the mat and gathered a new band. In addition, Ant traded noirish post-punk shadows for the new romantic style’s flamboyant color. This lightened both their sound and look. Adam drew heavily on Native American dress and other cultural motifs. They also took advantage of the fledgling music video medium to show everyone. And he incorporated an intense African style of drumming called the Burundi Beat. When their sophomore effort Kings of the Wild Frontier came out, the press hailed Ant for the quick personnel and sonic pivot. Antmusic is one of several self-referential songs from the band. It urges the listener to not listen to the obvious choices. Ironically, Adam and the Ants became an obvious choice. Borrowing from the Beatles (!) lexicon, “Antmania” was underway. But it was a double-edged sword, as the British media quickly turned on Ant.
Adam and the Ant’s follow-up, Prince Charming was dropped the following year. Two UK #1s came out of it (Stand and Deliver and Prince Charming). While Prince Charming works an an uplifting chant about resilience and being yourself (“ridicule is nothing to be scared of”), it’s also a thumb in the eye of the media. In its video, Ant is Cinderella, and it’s not a stretch to figure out who the evil step-sisters are. And the fans loved all of it: even the headscratcher Ant Rap was good for #3. And while this track is mostly a dig at the music industry, the accompanying video is the most hilariously-skewering one I’ve watched (scoring an American football touchdown against some execs, turning another into a pig, etc). Spectacles like these were lots of fun for fans, but the critics were howling with disapproval, setting the stage for Peak Confrontation.
If songs like Dog Eat Dog and Prince Charming were salvos against the press, Ant’s solo debut Friend or Foe is a full-on Blitzkrieg. In fact it’s a concept album about this. When I was a kid I thought Goody Two Shoes was about Ant teasing his girlfriend for being a prude. Little did I know it’s about invasion of privacy. Ant dodged the legal woes, alcoholism and street drug bugs that hit many punk rockers and other musicians. But he laments that the media relentlessly dig for any peccadillo and run with it. The accompanying video is interesting in that he seduces and sleeps with a member of the press; this is symbolic of Ant declaring he’ll win his media war. The single and often-aired video gave Ant a breakthrough in the US, which was less harsh to him critically.
Continuing the theme set by Goody Two Shoes is its evil twin: the slinking, menacing Desperate But Not Serious. Despite Ant’s easy-going image, he says the press is grasping at straws to tear him down. His metaphors are literally sharp: the reporter’s pen becomes a pen-knife. And they’re duplicitous, like a vampire following up affection (“kiss on the lips”) with murder (“and the back of your neck”).
Dig more into the album and the digs keep coming. Whether it’s Ant complaining that “when you get a #1 the only way is down” or that the media spews “crackpot history” and they have the unchecked “right to lie”, the gloves are off. Cajun Twisters portrays the media as the Big Bad Wolf (“what big eyes you got grandma”). Ant scored a vicious knockdown. But were the media out for the count?
After the catharsis of Friend or Foe, Ant dialed back the venom in his songs. With the release of the album Strip, Ant (with a wink) cranks up his sexpot image to cartoonish heights. The lead single and video, Puss ‘n’ Boots, is a lot of fun to my ears and eyes. But in the context of just proving maturity with Friend or Foe, I can see how fans were turned off by its fairy-tale theme (complete with mice!). And the irreverence and soft, violin-tinged sound of the rest of the album made him cannon fodder (again!) for the British media. The title track was released as the second single, but despite being solid (with cameos by Phil Collins and Anni-Frid from ABBA), Ant lost his luster and it didn’t even crack the top 40 in the UK.
Unfortunately the tongue-in-cheek Chuck Berry/ELO pastiche of Vive Le Rock (the album and single) didn’t stop the bleeding. And at Live Aid, when Bob Geldof uncharitably cut Ant’s set to one song (ok, it was because of epic performances from Queen and Bowie that ran long). But Ant chose to promote his current single Vive Le Rock instead of a big hit. With the heavily nostalgic and altruistic tone of Live Aid, this came across as tone deaf. The British papers dubbed it an “ant-sized” set and “career suicide”. Despite all of this, Ant eventually managed one more hit with the beautiful Wonderful, deep into the new wave-hostile ‘90s and without the over-the-top instrumentation and imagery that was in his wheelhouse. This showcased his under-appreciated musical versatility.
Ant struggled (publicly) with mental health issues soon after, having to sit out the new wave revival of the mid-2000s that breathed life into contemporaries like Duran Duran and Howard Jones. But eventually, his catalog gained more critical acceptance, and still commands a crowd in tours (I saw him in at the Auditorium Theatre in Chicago in 2023, which seats 3,000). Over 40 years later, the fans remained in his corner.
Adam Ant’s career is proof of how fragile the balance can be between artist and media. In the late ’70s, he was a critic’s darling; by the mid-’80s, he was tabloid fodder. Yet through betrayal, ridicule, and the endless game of build-up-and-knockdown, he found ways to endure. Friend or Foe remains his sharpest response — a concept album that turned press intrusion into art — but even the missteps that followed are part of his resilience story. Because while the media may have decided Adam Ant was finished, the fans never did. Forty years on, the headlines have faded, but the songs, the costumes, and the defiance still command a crowd. In the end, that’s the victory.
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