Released by Cherry Red Records’ imprint, Demon Music Group, this wasn't a cynical cash-grab. It was an archaeological expedition. A three-disc (or digital) treasure chest that didn't just remaster the original album—it reanimated an entire era. To hold it, or even to queue it on a streaming service, is to open a time capsule from 1986-1987, when hi-NRG beats ruled the clubs, gated reverb was king, and a 19-year-old woman with a leather jacket and a defiant sneer took control of her own narrative. The first disc presents the original Touch Me album, but not as you remember it. Remastered from the original master tapes by acclaimed engineer Tim Debney, the sonic upgrade is startling. The low-end on “Touch Me (I Want Your Body)” no longer sounds like it’s fighting through a transistor radio; the bass synth now thumps with a physical weight. Samantha’s voice—a surprisingly capable, husky alto often overshadowed by her image—sits front and center. You hear the confidence in her delivery on “I’m All You Need,” the playful desperation on “Holding,” and the genuine soulful ache on the ballad “Want Me to Want You.”
Then came the Deluxe Edition .
Interviews with the producers reveal the studio tension: they knew she had a raw, untrained voice, so they built the songs around her limited range but powerful attitude. They treated her like a punk-frontwoman, not a diva. The famous spoken-word intro to “Touch Me”— “Go on, touch me, I’m yours. Tonight.” —was reportedly recorded in one take, with Fox half-laughing, half-snarling. That authenticity cuts through the gloss. In an era of cynical “remastered” reissues that add one bonus track and call it a day, the Touch Me – Deluxe Edition is a labor of love. It argues for Samantha Fox as more than a nostalgia act or a tabloid footnote. It presents her as a genuine pop architect of the late 80s—one who helped bridge the gap between the post-disco sound and the emerging house music explosion. Samantha Fox - Touch Me -Deluxe Edition-
Listening to the entire collection is an experience. You start with the hits, move through the deep cuts, descend into the 12” remixes, and emerge on the other side with a profound respect for the craftsmanship of an era when a single song could have four different, equally valid lives (radio edit, album version, 12” mix, dub instrumental).
In the sprawling landscape of 1980s pop music, few stories are as uniquely captivating as that of Samantha Fox. She was an anomaly: a working-class London teenager who skyrocketed from tabloid pin-up to legitimate international pop sensation. Her 1986 debut album, Touch Me , was the sonic artifact of that transformation—a brash, glittering, and surprisingly resilient collection of dance-pop that sold over five million copies worldwide. But for decades, the album existed in a kind of purgatory: a relic of its era, available only in crackling vinyl rips or tinny CD transfers, its B-sides, remixes, and extended 12” cuts lost to time. Released by Cherry Red Records’ imprint, Demon Music
The B-sides are the hidden gems. “It’s Only Love,” a dramatic, synth-string-laden ballad, never made the original album but is arguably superior to some of its slower moments. “Dream City,” a driving, hi-NRG track, sounds like it was designed for roller rinks and sweaty nightclubs in equal measure. These tracks reveal the depth of Fox’s collaboration with producers Jon Astrop and Ian Morrow—they weren’t just crafting hits; they were building a sonic universe.
Hearing the “Extended Club Mix” of “Touch Me” is a revelation. It adds a full minute of percussive intro—cowbells, rimshots, a throbbing synth bassline—before Samantha even utters a word. It’s no longer a pop song; it’s a command. Similarly, the “Hot Tracks Mix” of “Do Ya Do Ya (Wanna Please Me)” strips the song down to a frantic, piano-driven garage-house beat, showcasing how Fox’s music was embraced by the early house and LGBTQ+ club scenes. To hold it, or even to queue it
But the real revelation is the track sequencing and the inclusion of the original UK album mix, which differs subtly from the US version. The Deluxe Edition restores the interlude-like feel of the original, letting the Pete Q. Harris-produced tracks (he helmed the majority) breathe. Songs like “Rock City” and “Midnight Lover” no longer sound like filler; they reveal themselves as tight, energetic rock-pop hybrids that foreshadow her later, more rock-oriented work. The remaster strips away the brittle harshness of 80s digital recording, leaving a warm, punchy, dancefloor-ready sheen. This is where the Deluxe Edition transforms from a simple reissue into a historical document . Disc Two is a treasure trove of single edits, extended 12” mixes, and B-sides. For the uninitiated, the 12” single was an art form in the 80s—a chance for producers to stretch out, layer synths, and create a hypnotic, club-prime experience.
Disc Three (in physical editions, or a third digital “volume”) goes even deeper: alternative mixes, instrumental versions, and rare foreign-language recordings. Yes, Samantha Fox singing “Touch Me” in Spanish (“Tócame”) and Italian (“Toccami”) is here, and it is gloriously, unashamedly kitschy. Her pronunciation is earnest, the backing tracks are identical, and the effect is surreal—like hearing your favorite neighbor suddenly break into a Eurovision performance. Any great deluxe edition lives or dies by its contextual material, and this one soars. The 24-page booklet (in the CD set) features a new essay by pop historian Michael Heatley, who does not shy away from the complexity of Fox’s image. He details how she was discovered at 16 as a Page 3 model, the exploitation of the tabloid industry, and her remarkably clear-eyed transition to music. Fox has always insisted that Touch Me was her escape plan—a way to use the notoriety she never asked for as a platform to do what she actually loved: sing.
For the casual fan, “Touch Me” is still a karaoke staple and a queer anthem. For the collector, this Deluxe Edition is the final word. For the music historian, it’s a primary source document. And for Samantha Fox herself, it’s the ultimate vindication—proof that her music, divorced from the sensationalism, stands on its own as a thumping, joyful, defiant piece of pop perfection. The deluxe treatment finally gives Touch Me the respect it always deserved: not as a side project of a model, but as a landmark debut of a survivor. And yes, you will still want to touch her. But now, you’ll also want to listen.