Martin Fry is in a celebratory mood, even if he doesn’t fully buy into the concept. “I don’t really celebrate birthdays,” he says, shrugging off the 40th anniversary of The Lexicon of Love, the album that defined ABC’s theatrical, glamorous approach to pop music. “Some people love an enormous party. I kind of go in the opposite direction.”
Still, he’s marking the milestone with an orchestral tour in the UK and a stripped-down band tour in North America, revisiting Lexicon’s lush, cinematic singles like The Look of Love and Poison Arrow. Fry acknowledges the album’s status as a pop classic, but he’s quick to point out that those titles are bestowed, not claimed. “For something to become a classic, the audience decides. As soon as you finish a piece of work, it becomes public property.”
That public property, though, was a deliberate break from the norm. At the height of post-punk, ABC stormed onto the scene in sparkly tuxedos, full of orchestral drama and emotional extravagance. “I’ve always thought there’s great value in irritating an audience,” Fry says, grinning. “We were a punk audience’s worst nightmare. But then, that’s the spirit of punk, isn’t it? Go against the grain—even against yourself.”
While Fry made a name for himself by rejecting trends, he knows how the cycle works. “Music operates in waves,” he explains. “In the ‘90s, after the big ‘80s run, people started asking, ‘Wait, are you still here?’ Then a few years later, suddenly you’re a ‘national treasure.’” He laughs. “It happens to everyone—Springsteen, the Stones. You just have to stick around long enough.”
That perspective might explain why Fry isn’t rushing into a new album. “I did Lexicon of Love II a few years ago, and that was about as big and ambitious as the original,” he says. “Would I go for a trilogy? I don’t know. It’d be fun to make something larger than life again. Everything on Lexicon was exaggerated—big drums, big emotions, big ambition. Maybe it’s time for something like that again. Go against present-day tastes, as always.”
And if he ever tires of writing new material? “That’s when you do a covers album,” he laughs. “That’s when the label panics and sends in the vanity project.” Fry has only recorded a handful of covers in his career, most notably an orchestral version of Radiohead’s High and Dry. “They asked me to do it in my style, like it was an ABC song that Radiohead had covered later,” he says. “A ridiculous concept, but I ran with it.”
Fry knows that reinvention is key, but he’s also seen how artists become part of history, whether they like it or not. “When you’ve been around this long, you become part of an era. People look at ABC and see the 1980s—same way Dylan represents the ‘60s. And that’s fine. But I like thinking about what comes next.”
So what does come next? “That’s the question, isn’t it?” Fry smirks. “Maybe I’ll just wait until the 41st anniversary and throw everyone off.”
Watch the interview above and then check out the video below.
