From the come-hither smirk he sports on the cover to the nearly nude portrait on the inner sleeve, it's clear that Adam Ant has but one thing on his mind: sales. Having finally grasped that it wasn't his music or philosophy that earned him a following so much as his cheekbones and penchant for romance-novel costumes, Adam is understandably milking it for all it's worth. Forget "Antmusic for Sexpeople"–this is Antsex for MTV people.

As you'd expect from someone who owes so much to television, Adam is careful never to transgress the boundaries of broadcast taste, delivering his sex fantasies in carefully telegraphed nudge-wink style. "What do you wear in bed?" he asks in "Playboy," and the response is "headphones on my head." How racy. Even the album's randiest bits, such as the chorus to "Baby, Let Me Scream at You" ("Get in get on get down get off/Get up get dressed get out"), mitigate their raw lust by regular references to "you, girlfriend."

Musically, Strip doesn't have much more to offer. "Puss'n Boots" manages to shake some of the dust off the Antmusic formula, thanks in large part to the production and vigorous drumming of Phil Collins. But the bulk of the album is made up of listless posturing, vague melodies and soporific rhythms. Maybe this is to allow for closer scrutiny of the lyrics, but if so, it was a major blunder. Strip is an album guaranteed to leave most listeners screaming, "Take it off!" (RS 414)

J.D. CONSIDINE