Post-punk dumdumdrumming pop pips Bow Wow Wow’s four year career in the (very) late '70s and (fairly) early '80s managed to encompass underage sexual suggestion, transvestite backing singers, Svengali management/meddling – oh, and a few decently-funk throwaway tracks too.
Featuring the original Ants (nicked from Adam by one Malcom McLaren), the four-piece were fronted by then 14-year old vocalist Anabella Lwin, whose definitely off-key but resolutely energetic delivery ensured that the sexual tension and powerfully pretentious tomtom-heavy Wedding Band behind her were reined into something aproaching a semi-coherent unit. This compilation, however, highlights the fact that the songs themselves are and were of their time and unfortunately have not worn well - or at all - with age.
Which is sad to say, cause for people of a certain age, there are certain pop moments that in the haze of memory have become imbued with vitality and vigour of teenage fumblings, tremulant tonguetasting and tearitupnshimmy school-disco sensuality. Singles ‘I Want Candy’, Go Wild In The Country’, ‘Golly Golly Go Buddy’ and the lazy bounce of ‘Do You Wanna Hold Me retain at the very least prehistoric echoes of a time when having a youthful *George O’ Dowd *(a.k.a. Boy George)_ on board for a couplea early '80s live appearances was still regarded as shocking.
Revisiting these recordings in a contemporary light unfortunately strips away the façade to reveal that Lwin’s lissom thighs may retain their swiney swing, but the thin and toyahish singing is revealed as a trick of the times; the band’s substitute funkshunning was even done better by Frankie Goes To Hollywood of all people; and the constant crumbling rhythmic riffery and too-busy bassing is a scratch-head shame of silliness over splenetic soul.
And yet, rushing through their 1979 fuck-buying-em-let’s-record-off-radio debut 'C30, C60, C90 Go', the slavescraping commentary lyrical stomp, ’WORK (No Nah No No My Daddy Don’t)’ or the creamcleavin crash of ‘See Jungle’ can still bring brightness into blistered imagination, possibly giving truth to the nagging realisation that Pop Music is essentially an ephemeral and surfaceripplin experience.