ADAM ANT // THE BARBICAN, YORK
Dandy Forever: Adam Ant Turns York Into a Pirate Parade
⭐⭐⭐⭐ (4/5)
Adam Ant @ York Barbican. Photocredit - John Hayhurst
Adam Ant doesn’t stroll onstage so much as materialise, hat first, like he’s just swung in from the balcony and crashed a highwayman raid. York Barbican isn’t packed with the usual costume devotees; it’s mostly casual jackets and pint-friendly denim, only a scattering of full regalia, maybe due to the weather as winter’s first snowfall is happening outside. But that hardly matters, because within seconds everyone is on their feet. Aisles turn into dance lanes before the lights even settle.
Before any of this chaos, support act ‘Yee Loi’—a Liverpool based sister-and-sister-and-brother punk blitz—carve out the sharpest opening set of the month. Two sisters on guitar and drums, their brother on bass, rattling through two-minute sprints built on bratty harmonies and straight-up 1-2-3-4 Ramones speed. Their wildest moment? A derailed, turbo-charged punk version of Elvis’ ‘Mystery Train’, transformed from rockabilly shuffle into runaway-freight carnage. They leave the stage like they’ve robbed a bank and legged it.
Then the hat appears. The cheers spike. Adam Ant fires straight into ‘Dog Eat Dog’ without ceremony, a brazen move—one of his biggest hits thrown immediately into the crowd like a lit match. It works. The entire floor is bouncing before the second chorus. Without pausing for applause to fade, he slams into ‘Vive Le Rock’, the ‘new’ song he played at Live Aid 40 years ago, as loud and unfiltered as it must’ve felt in ’85.
Then comes the smirk: “So… anyone want some ‘Antmusic’?” Cue absolute uproar. It’s only track three, and the Barbican resembles a New Romantic rugby scrum.
At 71, lets face it, Adam isn’t darting about like he once did - who is at that age?. The moves are smaller now—sharp shuffles, theatrical freezes, controlled prowls across the edge of the stage. But that restraint makes the character stronger, not weaker. He wears the Dandy Highwayman gear like a uniform he never retired from. He doesn’t have to act like a character anymore. He just is Adam Ant.
Upstage, raised high on speaker stacks like artillery, stand his two drummers. One of them, Jola, who is masked buffont cool and diamond-focused behind her kit. The other drives the rhythms like a second engine, but Jola’s presence is the visual anchor—sticks flashing, serious stare unfazed. On stage left, Will Crewdson slashes riffs from beneath a black mop of glam-lean hair and shades, every note tight, heavy, and gleefully over-the-top.
What follows is a tight sprint through fan favourites and deep-cut treasure. ‘Miss Thing’, lean and strutting. ‘Cartrouble’, snarling and metallic. ‘Zerox’, arty and jagged. The haunting sway of ‘Ants Invasion’, then a sudden gear-shift into ‘Prince Charming’—the room throwing up arms like they’re auditioning for the video. ‘Lady/Fall In’ and ‘Young Parisians’ come off stylish rather than nostalgic, helped by Crewdson’s glam-honed precision and Jola’s booming punctuation.
The set keeps tightening rather than dipping. A cheeky ‘Puss ’n Boots’, a swaggering ‘Desperate But Not Serious’, then a pounding ‘Kings of the Wild Frontier’ powered by that monstrous dual-drum setup. ‘Beat My Guest’ rips through like a street fight. ‘Wonderful’ glows with darker edges live, then ‘Strip’, ‘Friend or Foe’, ‘Never Trust a Man (With Egg on His Face)’, ‘Red Scab’, ‘Killer in the Home’, and ‘Los Rancheros’ keep piling up without dead weight. No indulgent banter, no slideshow of memories—just rapid-fire delivery, as if the songs are impatient to get out.
The finale hits like a victory parade. ‘Goody Two Shoes’ explodes into mass karaoke, phones up, strangers dancing with strangers who might not be smoking - but they’re definitely drinking. Then the real endgame: ‘Stand and Deliver’, the highwayman anthem returned to its captain. Crewdson rips in one last glitter-streaked riff, Jola hammers the behemoth drums like she’s sealing a pact, and Adam Ant—lean, grinning, hat tilted—stands triumphant.
No comeback narrative. No nostalgia apology. Just 23 songs delivered with bite, theatre and stamina. The Dandy Highwayman still rules the road.
Words and Photos - John Hayhurst
