Today, with much internet-fanfare it seems, is David Bowie’s 65th birthday. The man who fuelled every teenager’s dream of escape has reached pensionable age. Of late, he has taken a backstep – other than endorsing Arcade Fire and talking about the internet and art, I don’t recall much about him in the last few years. Alexis Petridis in the Guardian wrote a nice piece about Bowie, the here and now and his legacy.
It’s apropos then to choose an album from his golden period of creativity – the 1970s – and to look back, review and celebrate. Although, I’m choking on my coffee to think that some of these albums came out 40 years ago…
It was a difficult decision to come to, but in the end I plumped for “Hunky Dory” which was released in 1971. Other albums of that decade I know intimately: “Low”, “Station to Station” and “Heroes” – I’m perhaps more in-tune with his post-Ziggy period when he was thrilling himself with Berlin and Iggy Pop. “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars” is probably one of my favourite albums of my life – I first discovered it after watching the Bowie/Iggy Pop/pre-punk episode of the BBC’s excellent “Dancing inthe Street” documentary – as a teenager, I simply loved the excess. Now I listen to it, and recall being a teenager.
“Hunky Dory” I don’t know so well … well, as an entire piece of art. The big songs I know as they fill the tapestry of my life (like so many people) so I’m looking at this album as a complete package. It was a nice jaunt to make.
History is a fine thing – we can appreciate the album in Bowie’s oeuvre as well as looking back on where music has come since the 70s. If I could, I would listen to this album as it was meant to be – on vinyl. We know that “The Man Who Sold the World” was much heavier and then came Bowie’s crazy reinvention with the character of Ziggy Stardust, and his followers the Spiders from Mars (nor does "Hunky Dory" showcase in the bright neon lights, Mick Ronson, as much as that album does).
It’s just that the mood is quieter, it has a laid-back feel, particularly showcased in the first half – it’s Bowie’s singer-songwriter album of the 1970s. “Gentleness is the soul” he tells us on “Fill Your Heart”. It feels like the come-down album, which is amusing considering it’s the album *before* the excess. Maybe he was preparing himself; or the quiet was too boring and he chose to move on.
It’s hard, though, when listening to “Life on Mars?” not to think about Gene Hunt (Philip Glennister) and Sam Tyler (John Simm), or recalling “She Moves in Her Own Way” during “Kooks”, or thinking that “Queen Bitch” is a pretty close relative of The Killers’ “Mr Brightside”. Even “The Bewley Brothers” comes close in parts to Roxy Music’s magnus opus “If There is Something”, released a year later. Perhaps it’s the oboe? Such is Bowie’s grand place on the stage of pop music and cultural history.
In fact, Bowie wears his influences on his sleeve in this album – there’s a song about Dylan (quite folky) and Andy Warhol (very avant-garde), “Fill Your Heart” comes straight out of the music hall, “Quicksand” is very late-60s American singer-songwriter a la Neil Young, “Queen Bitch” is pure glam rock (and here Mick Ronson shows off his tricks. In fact, it’s the closest Ziggy-esque song on the album) whilst I lose track of the number of cultural references from Lenin to Mickey Mouse to the Norfolk Broads on “Life on Mars?” Even in “Oh! You Pretty Things” he scornfully talks about shocking the Mamas and Papas, as if wanting to leave behind the peace and love and harmony of the 1960s. A few of the songs even sound like police sirens are making up the background music, underpinning the harmonies with discord instead.
It’s also hard to listen to this album without appreciating the poetry of the lyrics – it’s not Wordsworth or Keats, but much closer to Philip Larkin – each song jam-packed with observation and well-spun word combinations that make my head spin. You don’t find this kind of wordplay in anything that has been in the Top 40 for quite some time…. It’s particularly nice to hear Bowie’s very British accent coming through on most of the songs, placing him very squarely in a time and place.
Perhaps it’s the fate of fame, but it’s hard to go past “Life on Mars?” as the most memorable track on the album. It’s cinematic in scope and theme, complete with orchestra soaring while Bowie’s voice leaps and bounds toward the stars. The band come together and supports this upward movement too – the piano elegant and elegiac, while the guitar enables Bowie’s voice and the echo effect creates an anthemic feeling. There’s even a Space Odyssey-esque bass drum at the end.
It’s an album that looks back and around itself, but despite its quietness and introspection it looks forward as well to Ziggy on “Queen Bitch” and the opening of “Andy Warhol”, experimental in form, paves the way for “Low”. It’s an amazing album, but I guess, because we know what’s to come, not quite as amazing as it could be.
History: fickle, vast and inspiring, just like Bowie.
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