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Sucker Punch
There are other lyrical elements that lend strong character to these songs, from the comparison in ‘Date Stamp’ between its protagonist’s relationship prospects and supermarket sell-by dates (‘I’m looking for a girl who meets supply with demand’) to ‘Valentine’s Day’’s juxtaposition of romantic theory with a more cynical reality (‘With your heart on parade and your heart on parole, I hope you find a sucker to buy that mink stole’). Elsewhere, ‘Many Happy Returns’ uses the gift card platitude to evoke the bittersweet feelings provoked by an ex you can’t move on from.

These lyrics, and their charismatic delivery from Fry, are one of several elements that set The Lexicon Of Love apart, and an area Trevor Horn insisted they work hard on, according to Fry. As he told Classic Pop: ‘Trevor is one of the few guys I have ever worked with who was interested in the lyrics because sometimes you work with great people, but it’s like, “Right, we’ve done the tracks. We’ll leave you to do the vocals and we’ll be back in two days’ time”’.

All of this, plus the LP’s title and the stream-of-consciousness splurge that adorns the sleeve (‘still looking for a custom fit in an off the rack world?’) lend credence to the idea that The Lexicon Of Love is something of a pop concept album. That’s in the ear of the beholder, perhaps, but a bruised but unbowed romantic world view runs throughout its ten tracks. What’s more, there are recurring touches of movie drama threaded through the aesthetic approach, whether it’s that stylised sleeve, channelling West End Musicals and movie posters, or the spoken asides within the likes of ‘Poison Arrow’ and ‘The Look Of Love’.

Photo of Fry and White used to promote Alphabet City from 1988

Soul Over Style
It also informs the soundtrack-esque sweep that accompanies so much of this record from the first majestic strings and horn fanfares of ‘Show Me’ to the thriller movie score of ‘Valentine’s Day’, something that reflects the forensic attention Horn paid to production. The result is an album that still sounds startling as it romps from your speakers today, regardless of the anachronistic dressing that is sometimes noticeable.

For instance, the fretless bass sound flexing its muscles at every juncture during the opening track ‘Show Me’ could only come from the 1980s. Yet while the same proves distracting to a distracting degree on other pop from that era, here the songcraft cuts through and Martin Fry’s gutsy vocal style remains a winner, always sounding soulful rather than stylised.

Fry and White in a promo shot for ABC’s Up from 1989

Pushing the Envelope
Horn’s studio frills are also relatively restrained, this release coming from before the era when he was pushing the production envelope to exotic new places with Frankie Goes To Hollywood and Art Of Noise. Nonetheless, he showcased an ability to include an array of sonic elements and give each equal billing. If they pop their heads boldly above the parapet at times – whether it’s drum machine fills, the sparkling trills that ring out from the intro of ‘Poison Arrow’ or Mark White’s percussive funk guitar rhythm on ‘Tears Are Not Enough’ – it all serves to drive the song more firmly into your consciousness.

The fact that Martin Fry was still talking about ABC’s debut album, some 40 years after its arrival, is indicative of its ‘lightning in a bottle’ quality. The band would go on to have other significant hits – ‘When Smokey Sings’, the lead single from their 1987 release Alphabet City, is their best known song in the US – but none of their other long players compares. When you mention ABC, the conversation can only start with The Lexicon Of Love.