david bowie / dana gillespie - BOWPROMO 1

Today’s music comes from the summer of 1971. 

Before David Bowie had signed to RCA his management team, (then called GEM, but soon to be re-christened MainMan), put together a promo disc. Only a few dozen copies were pressed, and were sent round various record companies and DJs to drum up support and interest. 

At this point Bowie and his band had only recorded about half of what became Hunky Dory, and so, to fill out side two of the disc GEM compiled a few tracks from their other new client, Dana Gillespie. She was quite a star in London, having recently completed a lengthy run in the original production of Jesus Christ Superstar in which she played Mary Magdalene. She had previously released a couple of folk albums in the late 1960s but Bowie’s manager, Tony DeFries, hoped to relaunch Dana as a sort of female Bowie and to that end Bowie and Mick Ronson had worked up some of her songs which she then recorded with the Spiders. Bowie had written “Andy Warhol” for her. 

So BOWPROMO 1 was pressed and did it's job in impressing RCA enough to sign both David and Dana on the spot. Dana’s theatrical commitments prevented her from finishing her album until 1973 and when Weren’t Born A Man was issued it was an uneasy mix of the 1971 songs and more recent recordings. 

Bowie, as we know, quickly finished his record off and was on such a roll that by the time Hunky Dory was released in late 1971 he’d already recorded nearly all of the next record – Ziggy Stardust. 

Anyway, both Bowie and Dana had two copies each of the promo disc and a few years back Dana sold one of hers on eBay. It sold for nearly £2,000 and was rapidly digitized and made available for download...And so I downloaded. And it’s fantastic. 

Superb quality, and all the Bowie tracks are different from what ended up on Hunky Dory, so a real treat for me. 

“Oh! You Pretty Things” is basically the same recording but the vocal mix is different and frankly the song sounds clearer all round. 

“Eight Line Poem” features an entirely different vocal take. 

“Kooks” has some vocal differences, the acoustic guitar is different and the strings aren’t complete. 

“It Ain’t Easy” was held over until the Ziggy album, and sounds pretty much the same. 

“Queen Bitch” features some different overdriven Ronson electric guitar, and the stereo separation is way more pronounced with acoustic guitar in one side and electric in the other. There are less multitracked vocals too. The whole thing leaps out of the speakers at you. It's absolutely marvellous. 

“Quicksand” – like “Pretty Things” there is more clarity here, although it’s lacking some of the strings of the finished version. 

“Bombers” – never released until the Ryko reissues in 1990, but this is a much better mix than the tinny Ryko issue, with lovely crisp drumming and lots more backing vocals. What the hell did Ryko do to the song? This is way better. And it segues into the intro to “Andy Warhol” (that’s Warhol, as in hols…) which indicates that it was replaced at the very last minute by “Fill Your Heart”. 

The rest of side two consists of five Dana Gillespie songs, which are uniformly brilliant. What a find! Neither of her RCA albums seem to be available anymore though a compilation of the two, called Andy Warhol, was issued about 15 years ago and is still available on Amazon. Dana’s roots in folk and musical theatre are obvious when she sings – she has a lovely theatrical manner and clearly enunciates every word. But it’s a very likeable and emotional voice too. I’m most impressed. 

As far as I can tell, she spent the rest of the seventies in stage productions and films before resuming her singing career as a blues woman. The last thirty plus years have found Dana carving out a niche in the blues market where she remains very successful. 

Anyway, her tracks on the promo include her take on “Andy Warhol” – backed by the Spiders, this is a much rockier version than Bowie’s acoustic one, and is, frankly, better. A storming Ronno solo at the end is criminally faded out. 

“Mother Don’t Be Frightened” also features Bowie and the boys but is a beautiful ballad. 

“All Cut Up On You” is another cracking song, which is quite funky. 

All three of those songs appeared on 1973’s Weren’t Born A Man, though the versions on BOWPROMO 1 are different. 

“Lavender Hill” is another gorgeous ballad, arranged by Ronno who is also an excellent pianist, but which sadly never ended up anywhere else. 

And the best track “Never Knew” is a simple piano song with the prettiest melody I’ve heard in years, topped with heartbreaking singing. I LOVE this song. It’s superb. A version of this played by a full band is on her second RCA album 1974’s Ain’t Gonna Play Second Fiddle (surely a comment on how she was never given the right attention by RCA or MainMan…), but that full band version doesn't better the simplicity of this.

Well worth tracking down.

"o superman" - laurie anderson

"O Superman" is quite definitely one of the most brilliant songs ever recorded. You can find it on Laurie Anderson's 1981 album Big Science which is a more digestible collection of tracks from the 4 hour performance piece United States. Brilliantly, it was also released as a single, despite being resolutely non-commercial and it hit number 2 in the UK charts. 

I've loved this song since I first heard it one evening in 1981 on wonderful Radio 1. What a shock; the eight and half minutes of hypnotic electronica really stood out amongst the fluffy new wave synth pop of the time. 

Utterly unique. Weirdly soothing but unsettling, terribly sad and melancholy too. The only recognisably musical sounds are the glorious synths that buzz in towards the end, and the occasional use of flute and saxophone. The softly repeated, compulsively insistent "ha ha ha ha " is so odd, so unlike anything else, but instead of being off-putting, it becomes comforting and familiar by the end, so that when the song finally stops, the listener is left bereft. 

It's an astounding achievement. How on earth did Laurie come up with this? The song was written in late 1979 not long after the Americans had initiated a disastrous attempt to rescue the hostages held in the US embassy in Tehran. Helicopter blades whipped up the desert sands into the engines and the end result was some downed planes and no sign of the hostages. Laurie was in the middle of writing her mammoth United States, a series of monologues and songs that took a sideways look at the state of the USA at the start of the new decade, and she decided to write a song about the utter failure of the avowedly superior US technology. 

Lyrically she was initially inspired by an aria written by Jules Massenet for his 1885 opera Le Cid. The aria begins "O souverain, o juge, o père" which Laurie appropriated and altered slightly, changing the Sovereign to a Superman and adding in a Mom to join the Dad. Right from the start it's clear that this song is about Force, Justice and Love. 

Laurie envisaged the lyrics as a conversation with a higher power, but unlike Massenet's glorious prayer to Heaven, this would be via the way more mundane channel of a telephone answer machine. This juxtaposition of the powerful and the ordinary crops up throughout the song. Laurie was struck by how the USA is always portrayed as the great defender of fairness and goodness and Mom's home-made apple pie, but that the country was also capable of terrible acts of aggression and violence. 

The softly repeated "ha ha ha ha" which carries on throughout the song was intended to be a sort of electronic version of a Greek chorus. It's likely that Phillip Glass's groundbreaking opera Einstein On The Beach (1976) may have influenced this - the Glass work had repeated examples of softly chanted numbers, insistent and compelling in just the same way as Laurie's "ha ha ha ha". Laurie fed the voices through a vocoder, a voice synth originally developed by the US military, which she felt seemed very fitting. The unanswered answer machine messages pile on the feeling of disconnection, of isolation, but then suddenly the machine appears to reply, "Well, you don't know me, but I know you..." which only ramps up the spooky and spooked mood. And it's message is a simple phrase, delivered plainly but it still somehow creates a real sense of foreboding and deepening catastrophe.... "Here come the planes..."  

In the summer of 2001, Laurie had brought "O Superman" back into her live set, for the first time in years. After 9/11 she considered removing it again, but decided to keep it in the set as the song seemed to take on a whole new resonance. Laurie noted that the song seemed very relevant again - after all, she said, it's basically still the same war, and US planes are still crashing... The version available on the Live In New York album, recorded just days after the fall of the Twin Towers, shows Laurie's voice trembling at times as she performs a highly emotionally charged version of "O Superman". 

So who was speaking, who was warning of the planes? The answer claims to be "the hand that takes". Is this the chill fingers of Death? We are warned of the planes again, but then the dread is dialled back a touch with the rather more chirpy "They're American planes, made in America. Smoking or non smoking?" as if the mysterious voice is merely checking our bags in at the airport. But after quoting the slogan of the US postal service the song takes a darker and more sombre turn once more, the synth wash in the background becomes an ominous hum as in quick succession we lose the love, the judge and even the deity from the opening lines... 

"When love is gone, there's always justice, when justice is gone there's always force..." What's left? "...and when force is gone, there's always Mom... Hi Mom."

So when we are left with nothing, we still have our Mother, and Laurie entreats her to hold us. But in these days of technology and guns and oil and warfare, Mom coldly holds us with military arms, petrochemical arms, electronic arms... and with that the song fires up a deeply treated saxophone / synth duet for a musical coda which subsides after just 45 seconds leaving us with only the continuous "ha ha ha ha" again. Then, without warning, everything stops. Silence.


Originally only 1000 copies had been made of this single, but fortunately one reached John Peel in the UK, and he played it a number of times. Interest was such that the song started to gain airplay on daytime Radio 1 as well, and suddenly Warner Brothers had to press 80,000 copies of the single. It rapidly rose to number 2 in the UK charts.

Laurie made a video for the song, a mesmerising performance which used elements from her stage show at the time - such as the spooky light-in-mouth effect. The video begins with a huge white globe, like bleached out sun, over which a shiny suited Laurie casts a shadow with her arm. With her fist tightly bunched she moves her arm and the shadow copies, until she drops her am and the shadow remains... the disembodied arm shadow returns later to wave goodbye. It's very disconcerting. 


Incidentally, David Bowie took to performing the song on his 1997 Earthling tour. Sung by bass guitarist Gail Ann Dorsey this was a largely faithful cover though some programmed drums kept the piece rattling along. Bowie himself played saxophone and sang a few backing vocals. Interestingly the song still carried the same unsettling mood as the original, despite the more energetic live setting. Bowie had also borrowed from "O Superman" for the softly repetitive "huh huh huh" backing vocals on "Loving The Alien" in 1984.


Back in 1981 I had absolutely no idea what the song was about, but I was utterly gripped by it. Nothing else sounded remotely like it. In the 1980s there was a genuine background fear of nuclear war; programmes like Threads showed us a horribly realistic scenario if the bomb dropped. To me, "O Superman" was a sort of soundtrack to the end of the world. It seemed to be worrying yet hopeful at the same time. This was music that would be suitable for a nuclear winter. It had a stillness and quiet about it that was deeply troubling and the occasional birdsong seemed to suggest that, at the end of it all, perhaps that's all we'd hear. No more technology, just birdsong.

Today, "O Superman" still has a strange Cold War feel to it, there's still an aura of finality, of resignation, of acceptance - "Here come the planes" is sung without any fear or panic, it's merely a statement of fact, yet it causes such feelings of fear and apprehension. And in today's still troubled world, the relevance of those lines is stronger than ever. And the song still sounds like nothing else, and I'm sure it never will. It is totally unique, and continues to have a totally unique fascination for me.

"O Superman  (for Massenet)"

Written by Laurie Anderson 1980.

O Superman. O Judge. O Mom and Dad. Mom and Dad.

O Superman. O Judge. O Mom and Dad. Mom and Dad.

Hi. I'm not home right now. 

But if you want to leave a message, just start talking at the sound of the tone.

Hello? This is your Mother. Are you there? Are you coming home?

Hello? Is anybody home?

Well, you don't know me, but I know you. And I've got a message to give to you.

Here come the planes.

So you better get ready. Ready to go.

You can come as you are, but pay as you go.

Pay as you go.

And I said: OK. Who is this really?

And the voice said: This is the hand, the hand that takes.

This is the hand, the hand that takes.

This is the hand, the hand that takes.

Here come the planes.

They're American planes. Made in America. Smoking or non-smoking?

And the voice said: Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night shall stay these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.

'Cause when love is gone, there's always justice.

And when justice is gone, there's always force.

And when force is gone, there's always Mom.

Hi Mom!

So hold me, Mom, in your long arms.

So hold me, Mom, in your long arms.

In your automatic arms.

Your electronic arms.

In your arms.

So hold me, Mom, in your long arms.

Your petrochemical arms.

Your military arms.

In your electronic arms.

i can't give everything away - david bowie

I’ve really not played Blackstar very much since that awful day in January.

 

I was so thrilled by this album when I got it on the Friday, played it loads over that weekend, really enjoyed it all, thought it was genuinely exciting and fresh and pushing into new territory for DB, a new way forward.

 

Then the news at 7am on that Monday and Blackstar became something… else. Something that was suddenly much harder to listen to, something that was now overburdened with sadness and sorrow. All that hope and what the future might bring was gone, replaced with a massive hollow void.

 

In the months since I’ve rarely played the whole album. I’ve dipped in and listened to the epic title song, the mad intensity of “Sue” and the gorgeously wistful “Dollar Days” quite a bit, but songs like “Lazarus” and “I Can’t Give Everything Away” have been too difficult, too full of sadness. “Lazarus” is especially hard – now we know what was happening in his life, the video takes on a stark and blindingly obvious meaning. David Jones is dying, he brings Bowie the rock star out for one last, frantic, dance - then puts him away, back in the cupboard, forever.

 

I’m still baffled as to how Bowie could have had the clarity of vision to come up with such a video, faced with what he knew were his final days. And I'm also baffled that no-one could see what he was saying. Until it was too late.

 

“I Can’t Give Everything Away”, released this week as a single, gives us the final lyrics of David Bowie... “this is all I ever meant, that’s the message that I sent…” the whole song is obviously a goodbye. But a goodbye that few spotted. I sort of realised that when I first heard it, but then it seemed more like merely a final-song-of-the-album type lyric than a final song ever. In an email to friends the day the album was released I pondered whether or not this song might actually signify Bowie’s retirement, though I fervently hoped that it did not.

 

But it did; a final, no coming back retirement.

 

The song has all sorts of neat touches, elements from Bowie's past - the harmonica lines lifted from "A New Career In A New Town", the guitar solo that is clearly inspired by Robert Fripp, the way the vocal alternates between soaring choruses and intimate verses. It's all sorts of Bowie trademarks in one glorious song, sad but oddly uplifting too.

 

The newly released animated video for "I Can't Give Everything Away" features the graphics from the album sleeve over star patterns and shapes, with selected words popping up throughout. At first I felt it was a little underwhelming, but after the finality of the “Lazarus” video where the hell could they go with this anyway? But my disappointment changed towards the end of the video when the starfield becomes full technicolour, and morphs into a mix of the 2001 Star Gate and the classic 1970s Doctor Who title sequence. We appear to be rushing towards some infinite unreachable point, and right at the end a little spaceman whizzes off into the far distance. It brings a wry smile to the face of anyone watching, a magical touch of humour to even out the loss and sorrow. And somehow this little spaceman graphic seems exactly right. Bowie’s career really kicked into gear with “Space Oddity”, largely inspired by Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C Clarke’s 2001 A Space Odyssey. And spacemen have cropped up regularly throughout Bowie’s career. So it seems absolutely fitting to send that spaceman back into the infinite 2001 Star Gate, one last time. It seems to be the perfect visual goodbye, to accompany the perfect goodbye song. 

 

I think I'm ready to play the whole album later. There's still a big hole where David Bowie was, and it's almost impossible to comprehend that there won't be any more music from him. But Blackstar is bloody brilliant, and it deserves to be played, and, crucially, I’m sure that's what David Bowie would have wanted. 

david bowie - thoughts

It's been a weird few weeks since David Bowie died. Everyone knows how much of a fan I am, how much I'd admired this man. You'd think I'd have loads to say about him, about his music, about how much it meant to me.

 

But I'm still struggling to find the right words. Failing to find the right words.

 

Oddly, I feel like I ought to write something. Though I know it's only adding to the mountains of words people across the globe have written. But I can't quite figure out what to say. What would David Bowie have done? He'd probably have cherry picked the best bits of stuff he'd already done, mashed it all together and created something bigger than the sum of its parts.

 

So some of the following is lifted from an email of a couple of weeks ago that I sent to a good friend. 

 

I heard the news about David Bowie at 7am, only minutes after the story broke. I somehow went to work, but very little work was done. Utter shock, and tears for a man who I'd never met - apart from a dozen or so brilliant concerts - but I knew him somehow. And he knew me somehow. This guy has been with me every day since I was 13. Every. Single. Day.

 

In a weird way he was almost like an extra relative, a very cool, subversive relative. Bowie introduced me to all sorts of stuff - not just his music but art, culture, films, and loads of other music too. His music spoke to me, made me feel important and free, made me feel less alone, less of an outsider. I was never much of a slave to fashion, but at university I dyed my hair to look like him... Ok, in recent years this blatant hero worship has died off a bit, but I truly admired the dignified way he conducted his life and his work, and still looked up to this guy enormously. 

 

Much of the music I like (Iggy, Lou Reed, Scott Walker, Fripp, King Crimson, Eno, Roxy, Krautrock, New Wave, Talking Heads and so many many more) - it nearly all stems from strong connections with Bowie. Other music I like - bands like Suede or Interpol or Bauhaus for example - clearly own all the same records as me, including a huge chunk of Bowie music. Tim Bowness posted a lovely entry on his blog the day after the news where he reflected on Bowie and listed his favourite DB songs - his list is almost exactly my list, even down to the inclusion of the brilliant but hardly ever mentioned "Subterraneans".  https://timbowness.wordpress.com/influences/david-bowie/ 

No wonder I love Tim's music so much, he loves exactly the same music as I do!

 

I can't believe quite how this has upset me. It's actually made me question what I'm doing with my life. I used to have so many dreams when I was young, few of which I've really achieved. And with just over a year to go till I'm 50, I've been thinking that now I've just got to do something about that. I've always gone for the safe option. Got a regular job because it was sensible and paid the bills. Not because it was what I really wanted. Perhaps I should always have said to myself, what would David Bowie do? Because he never played safe, always took a chance, and crucially, followed his dreams. And so must I. 

 

Today I played Blackstar all the way through, for the first time since he died. I've played odd tracks since then, but not the whole thing in one go. I haven't been able to do that until now, as it's simply been too difficult for me to hear. Today I was struck by how obvious it all seemed - in all the excellent reviews of the album, in my first few listens before the news broke - how did no-one realise that this album was the final word? It's perfectly clear that with every song David Bowie is saying "Goodbye". 

 

 

goodbye david bowie

This was going to be a post about how brilliant the new David Bowie album is. But currently my brain hurts a lot and I can't think straight. I can't believe he's gone.

I can't write about how influential he was right now. Loads of words will be typed over the next few days and weeks about his work and his life. All I can say right now is that Bowie has been a huge part of my life, for most of my life, and at the moment I'm just stunned. So sad for Iman and their 15 year old daughter Lexi.

 

So this is from an email to friends last Friday -

---------------------------------------------- 

 

As I'd ordered David Bowie's Blackstar from Amazon they very kindly sent me the MP3 files at 1 minute after midnight last night! So I didn't get to bed till one o'clock, as I HAD to listen to it all didn't I?

Basically, it's bloody good. It's only about 40 minutes long, which is good as long albums can get a bit dull. Blackstar is anything but. It's choc full of invention and mystery and surprises and there seems to be loads to discover with every play. Best album since Scary Monsters? Nah. But best album since 1.Outside? Maybe...

The title track and "Lazarus" I already knew from the singles. "Blackstar" is majestic and epic in every way, mysterious, scary, beautiful, and stunning - the video is amazing too. Strangely though I don't know if it's the best track to open the album. It's perhaps a bit too much right at the start and at 10 minutes long it kind of overbalances the album somehow. Having said that, I can't think where else it might fit in. "Lazarus" also has a superb video which was released yesterday, which is scary and comedic in equal measure. The song is claustrophobic and dark and spooky, the opening part reminds me of Joy Division, the chorus melody stealing a little from Bowie's own "Slip Away" from Heathen, but the whole track is way more than the sum of it's influences and I love the skronking sax on the long outro. At the moment it's my favourite track on the album, though this will, I'm sure, change...

"Sue" and "Tis A Pity She Was A Whore" were released as a single over a year ago, but the album contains brand new recordings of both of these tracks, and both are better, in my opinion, than the originals, with "Sue" being especially intense. The bass on these tracks (on the whole album actually) is awesome, brilliantly recorded and played. Many reviews are banging on about Blackstar being a jazz record, but really this album isn't. It may be a jazz band playing the music, but they are playing full on rock for the most part, with "Sue" verging on drum and bass and coming across like a sort of demented Earthling out-take. Just because a song has a sax solo instead of a guitar solo doesn't automatically make it jazz! The sax on "Tis A Pity" actually reminds me of Andy Mackay's wilder exploits on early Roxy albums, and it's probably the hardest, most powerful song on the album (as well as being perhaps the most playful), although the new "Sue" rocks like a demon too.

Then we get the three brand new songs.

"Girl Loves Me" is a delightfully bonkers piece, with pseudo made up Clockwork Orange type droog speak, and that insanely catchy "where the f... did Monday go?" refrain. It reminds me in places of the ...hours era b-side "No-One Calls" which had a similar melody and a similarly woozy air about it.

"Dollar Days" is the very definition of wistful. Bowie in full on croon mode, going on about how he may never see those English evergreens again. It's almost like something from a musical, with a strangely old-fashioned, and very English, feel about it (despite the title...) It's also somehow a very sad song, though I'm not entirely sure why.

"I Can't Give Everything Away" is beautifully sung, and beautifully played and may well end up being my favourite song on the album. The verses are very short, just a couple of lines each before the soaring choruses keep crashing in. The intro nicks the harmonica tune from "A New Career In A New Town" and the outro contains a proper guitar solo which is very Frippian - lovely nods to the past (in the same way that one of the Next Day songs ended with the "Five Years" drum beat). The melody is again very theatrical, Bowie delivers the goods perfectly. As with "Dollar Days" there's something that feels very personal about this song, and something rather sad too. After The Next Day I felt that Bowie had loads more to give. After this song I wonder if he's hinting that, actually, he doesn't. I really, really hope I'm wrong but if he never records again, this would be the perfect song on which to bow out.  

 

----------------------------------
 

And how horribly right those words were. He never saw those English evergreens again... At the end of the incredible "Lazarus" video Bowie the rock star climbs back into the wardrobe. Mr Jones has put Bowie back in the box. For the last time.

 

David Robert Jones, devoted husband and father, died today.

 

But David Bowie, incredible rock legend, creator of some of the most fantastic music in the world, will live forever!

 

R x

★ david bowie's new single, 'blackstar'

Well, after quite a few listens last night and this morning I can honestly say that I love this new song, ★.

Vocally, Bowie is on fine form, eerie, haunted vocals giving way to the stunning middle section. This part seems like it's harking back to the soulful Bowie of Young Americans with some lovely, clear and beautifully pitched vocals, but there's still the unsettling electronic backing voices too. The long chanting aaaahhhhs have been described as vaguely Gregorian chant, but there's also a link back to the similar aaaahhhhs in 1970's "The Supermen". It's odd that the song seems disjointed at first but gradually the structure of the three parts melds together and now it obviously fits together, and couldn't be any other way.

The lyrics are a series of seemingly disconnected images that add up to an overriding feeling of dread and foreboding. In this there are echoes of Scott Walker, as he makes his words work in a similar way. Much has been made of the musical similarity between "Blackstar" and recent Scott Walker music, but I can't really hear it - yes both are resolutely ploughing their own furrows, making the sort of music that they want, unencumbered by commercial requirements, but Bowie's music is certainly lighter and more playful. The skittering percussion is superb, as are the little squelchy stabs of synth.

The video is something else - the shaking dancing was apparently inspired by old cartoons (where background figures would always keep moving in a shuddering three second loop, because static figures would catch your eye too much), the skull stuff lifts from myths about the Templars (something Bowie has touched on before) but makes it all much more sci-fi (and there's even a couple of steals from the film Moon (directed by Bowie's son Duncan Jones). And by sticking the skeleton in a space suit there's inevitably going to be links to Major Tom, last heard of strung out in heaven's high, hitting an all time low...

Bowie himself is on terrific form, lots of freaky dancing, and the character with the bandages across his face and the buttons for eyes is rather disturbing. Yes it's all terribly pretentious and bordering on silly - but then so was the video to "Ashes To Ashes", or "Loving The Alien" or "Little Wonder" or frankly 90% of all the videos he's ever made, and to be honest, I'd be extremely disappointed if a Bowie video wasn't pretentious and faintly silly.

Above all though, David Bowie looks and sounds very fit and healthy, dispelling all the stories of poor health. Yes he had heart problems ten years ago, but various unpleasant rumours of debilitating strokes and limited movement seem to have been utterly unfounded. Thank goodness.

So, a big thumbs up from me. Really looking forward to the album now!  

david bowie - station to station

I love Station To Station! 

 

David Bowie recorded this in late 1975. He'd just spent a few months in New Mexico filming The Man Who Fell To Earth. Skinny, pale as milk, and with shocking orange swept back hair, Bowie returned to Los Angeles with his head full of new ideas. Whilst making the film he'd been listening to a lot of old fashioned R'n'B and a lot of very new Krautrock. In his head bands like Kraftwerk, NEU! and Cluster mixed with Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder and string-laden disco and Bowie began dreaming up new songs, mutant mixtures of funk and motorik, chilly European music and lush Philadelphia soul. 

 

He swiftly recalled the musicians who'd helped him finish Young Americans at the very start of 1975 - guitarist Carlos Alomar, bass player George Murray and drummer Dennis Davis, plus the lead guitarist on his last tour, Earl Slick, and Roy Bittan, from Springsteen's E Street Band, on piano. 

 

Holed up in LA's Cherokee Studios for most of October 1975 the band worked on the new tunes in lengthy overnight sessions. Fuelled by astonishing amounts of narcotics the backing tracks were painstakingly assembled, layer by layer, with the vocals coming last. Bowie seemed to have endless energy, despite apparently living on little more than milk and raw peppers. 

 

Harry Maslin's production is astoundingly crisp. The drums are fantastically well recorded, really sharp and dry (and Dennis Davis' drumming is magnificent too - especially all his fills on "Stay" and the restrained majesty of "Wild Is The Wind"). The instrumental separation is superb too, with every player allowed to shine. The fact that such a small group of musicians was used contributes to the starkness and clarity. Apart from Bowie's own saxophone parts there's no-one else bar the core group on this album. 

 

The title track is an amazing achievement, especially the remorseless opening half. The gradual build up from train effects through Earl Slick's guitar squeals, into the relentless rhythm track is one of my favourite bits of music ever. And then Bowie's vocal entry, with all sorts of rattling noises behind it, is just brilliant. Beautifully sung, it's a bit scary, but incredibly cool too. The lyrics include all sorts of occult and kabalistic images, and the overall effect is one of fatalistic desperation. "It's too late", repeated over and over...

 

"Golden Years" has got to be the snappiest song DB ever did. With one eye on how well "Fame" had done on the US charts Bowie is clearly aiming for another disco hit, but what a song! Effortlessly cool with all those finger clicks and casual clapping, even a bit of whistling towards the end, just tossed into the mix without a care. And what a vocal, soaring from way up high to way down low in the space of one "Go…ho….ohhl...den yeaaarrrrs….". This was the first track to be completed, and an early mix used on the black music TV show Soul Train, where Bowie lip synched (not very well, it must be said) to "Fame" and this new track in early November. 

 

"Word On A Wing" - a prayer, and it's genuine. There's nothing artificial here, no masks, no pretence. And arguably the most heartfelt vocal of Bowie's career so far. I love the synthetic strings, and the restraint of the band. Roy Bittan's piano / synth intro is gorgeous and his playing throughout this song is just lovely. There must have been the temptation to overdo this, add real strings, a gospel choir, that sort of thing. But thankfully the whole song is underplayed perfectly, allowing Bowie's vocal and lyrics to take centre stage.

 

"TVC15" - this one sticks out as an oddity on StS, but it's really needed, and actually works perfectly where it is, as light relief after the emotion of "Word On A Wing" and before the darker drama of "Stay". Partly inspired by a dream that Iggy Pop had where his girlfriend was eaten by a television set… Really. I think Iggy must've had some really strong, er, cheese before bedtime... Bittan's rocking piano lines deliberately mimic 50s rock and roll, while the 'oh-oh, oh-oh-oh' bits were pretty much nicked from the Yardbirds' "Good Morning Little Schoolgirl". And after the super slick Dave Sanborn, who'd played on the 1974 tour and Young Americans, it's great to hear that slightly asthmatic Bowie saxophone sound again. 

 

"Stay" is possibly my favourite on the album, certainly in my top ten all time Bowie songs. From the very start with Carlos Alomar's funky, urgent guitar, right through to the lengthy instrumental fade out it's perfect. Interestingly the chorus is basically a reworking of the Young Americans version of "John I'm Only Dancing (Again)" a song that is well known now, but was, back then, merely an unreleased out-take. Once again, Bowie's vocals are masterfully controlled, the music is taught, hard, driving, super funky and once the second chorus is out of the way the band lets rip, Earl Slick's lead guitar duels with Carlos Alomar's brilliant rhythm, George Murray fights back with some savage jabs from the bass and Dennis Davis anchors the whole thing with his brilliant drumming. It's so wonderfully dramatic. 

 

But not, perhaps, as dramatic as "Wild Is The Wind". Surely one of Bowie's best ever vocals? Again the temptation to sweeten the song is resisted, restraint is the order of the day, with a lush acoustic 12 string holding the song together, the other instruments acting as embellishments. Bowie's second "Don't you know you're life, itself…" is magnificent, and it's followed by an equally magnificent tour of the drum kit courtesy of Dennis Davis, before the song gathers itself for the final push. I love Bowie's music, but there's only a few of his songs that I'd consider to be actually beautiful. "Wild Is The Wind" is beautiful. An absolute work of art.

 

Speaking of art - the cover is cracking too; the words allruntogether, that mysterious black and white photo from The Man Who Fell To Earth - and it has to be the B&W picture, that full colour version on some reissues just doesn't do for me at all. Actually the B&W pic in the centre of the white sleeve was a last minute change as the colour photo covering the full sleeve was the original plan, but when he saw the proofs Bowie changed his mind because the sky showing through the open door was apparently too blue! 

 

Station To Station. It's a masterpiece isn't it? What a shame that Bowie actually doesn't remember recording a single note of it. Bowie laughed about this some years ago and said "I know it was recorded in LA because the credits say so" but he genuinely doesn't remember it at all. Way too much of Columbia's finest white powder had been consumed and it clearly took some of his memory with it!

mick ronson - slaugher on 10the avenue

For no good reason, today I decided to play Mick Ronson’s debut solo album Slaughter On 10^th Avenue. I’m not entirely sure why, but it’s been years since I played this one, and it came as a welcome blast of glam pomp. I’d forgotten how variable this album was – there are some great moments, and some truly dreadful ones. Sadly one of the worst comes right at the start – the hideously overwrought cover of “Love Me Tender”. Avoid.

 

But the album picks up immediately with the nicely stompy “Growing Up And I’m Fine” which sounds rather like early Queen, but without Freddie’s histrionics. “Only After Dark” is a weirdly robotic slice of glam rock, and is surely the only song in history to have been covered by both Human League and Def Leppard – but oddly you can see how it suits both bands.

 

The rest of the album is generally solid, well produced 1974 rock. The band is basically Bowie’s Pin Ups band – Ronno, Trevor Bolder, Aynsley Dunbar and Mike Garson, and the overall sound is just like Pin Ups. There’s surprisingly little guitar showofferey, with the emphasis more on the songs and the excellent arrangements rather than pyrotechnics. And Ronno is a very good singer, but perhaps a little unremarkable.

 

There’s a strong parallel to be drawn with Bernard Butler’s first solo album. Both were superb guitarists who were pushed too quickly into solo careers. After Butler left Suede he quickly came up with a solid, excellently produced album, but again there’s something lacking. It’s hard to pinpoint why it doesn’t quite work, but Butler’s album is very much a poor relation to Suede's Dog Man Star, just as Ronno’s album comes off a clear second best to Aladdin Sane or Pin Ups.

 

david bowie - leon

Today I'm in Oxford Town, investigating pretentious Art Crime with Nathan Adler, Leon Blank and old Mr Touchshriek, hot on the trail of Ramona A Stone. Yes indeed, this is 71 minutes of (apparently) 3 hours or more of the group improvisations recorded in the autumn of 1994 by David Bowie, Brian Eno and the band which eventually led to 1.Outside.

About 10 years ago this CD of music was rumoured to be in the hands of a select group of uber-fans, but it was never leaked out to the great unwashed. All we had was about 20 minutes of snippets of this material, uploaded onto the web in pretty low quality mp3. For years this is all that has circulated. But late last year a fan on one of the Bowie message boards was sent a disc anonymously marked "Leon". He thought it would be the same old recycled snippets and did nothing with it until someone else suggested that he should at least give it a listen! He eventually did and was astounded to hear that it contained the full 71 minute Disc One of this material, previously only available, apparently, to the fabled 'inner circle' of fans. Very kindly he uploaded it for everyone to hear. 

Bits of this are familiar - some of the segues on 1.Outside were edited out of this improvised, supremely pretentious nonsense. For example the "Baby Grace" passage is here, though much longer and instead of "Hallo Spaceboy" crashing in at the end when Grace says 'something is going to be horrid' it continues with lots of guitar noodlings from Reeves Gabrels.  "I Am With Name" appears almost unchanged on the finished album, but apart from this and the reworked segues it's all unreleased stuff - mostly Bowie doing silly voices, strange monologues, lots of Enoid squelchy drums, Mike Garson playing fractured piano, all that sort of thing. 

But even if you're familiar with the long available snippets, the full length disc is something else. Some of the songs are just superb - "We'll Creep Together" builds from a mechanised drum pattern and eventually dissolves into some lovely keyboards some 10 minutes later. The stirring keyboards remind me of the lengthy ending to "Absolute Beginners" actually.  "I'd Rather Be Chrome" is more menacing, with a very Eno-esque style funky rhythm. The spoken passages are bonkers - Ramona is a syllanibal, don't you know, she 'eats her own words…' Told you it was pretentious! There are many different voices used by Bowie, many more than appear on the final album.

It sort of all washes over you, swirling around. It would have been marvellous if Bowie had actually had the nerve to release this 20 years ago, but with hindsight you can see why he watered down 1.Outside with a lot more 'proper' songs.

The last time I got so excited by a new piece of music was the day "Where Are We Now?" suddenly appeared - good Bowie music must have that effect on me!

 

bowie shuffling

Sometimes the iPod kind of tells me what it wants to play.

I stuck it on shuffle the other day and it basically said - No. I want to hear to David Bowie.

So, over the course of a hour or so the shuffled tunes included unfeasibly high proportion of Bowie songs. Quite how it does this, I have no idea, but look what it played for me...

 

“I’m Deranged” – the remix done during the Earthling sessions, and probably the most Jungle he ever was. It’s a tremendous remix, taking an already good song and actually improving it, making it mad and bonkers and thrilling and genuinely exciting. 

 

“Can You Hear Me?” – one of the gorgeous ballads from Young Americans, but this was a duet from the Cher Show in late 1975. It sounds laughably under-rehearsed – DB and Cher attempt to duet over the album backing track but DB sings far too much and it’s clear that Cher isn’t really sure where to come in. You would think that DB would be terribly embarrassed by this, but I suspect his blushes are spared by the fact that he’d put most of Bolivia’s finest exported crop for 1975 up his nose and thus he actually has no memory whatsoever of the second half of 1975.  

 

“Waiting For The Man” – the funky edgy version from the 1976 tour. Really excellent, one of the best covers DB ever performed I reckon.  

 

“John, I’m Only Dancing” – the Aladdin Sane sessions version, which is by far the best version, with the squawking saxophone and Ronson’s madly amped up guitars. The energy on show here absolutely knocks the original for six.

 

“I Would Be Your Slave” – a nicely downbeat and moody track from Heathen. Great vocals, and some lovely keyboard / guitar interplay too.  

 

“You Belong In Rock ‘n’ Roll” – one of Tin Machine’s finest moments. Bowie attempts a sort of murmured Elvis type vocal, which surprisingly works very well. Then he belts out the chorus which is fab. Tin Machine was a far better band than received wisdom tells us. And they were superb live, as the two shows I saw at Brixton prove. The closest I've ever been to Mr B.  

 

There was some other stuff, but I’m in a Bowie mood now - going to play Station To Station, as if anyone ever needs an excuse to play that album!

 

scott walker in the 1970s

After his run of brilliant 1960s records Scott Walker seemed to give up songwriting for most of the 1970s. His voice was still strong, always impressive, but there's an over-riding feeling that Scott was simply going through the motions.

 

Having said that there are some gems to be found. These early 1970s albums are mostly unloved and overlooked for a fairly good reason – on the whole they are very much the poor relations of Scotts 1 – 4 and are generally MOR slush and/or oddly anaemic soft country.

1972’s The Moviegoer is arguably the best. As the title suggests the tracks are all Scott’s interpretations of songs from film soundtracks, and on the whole they’re pretty good. We still have the wonderful Johnny Franz in charge of the strings and orchestral arrangements, and the overall sound isn’t too far removed from the lushness of Scott 3. We don’t have any Scott originals of course, which is a terrible shame, but his vocals are superb, he sounds involved and committed and in general the standard is at least as high as ‘Til The Band Comes In. The opening "This Way Mary" is simply gorgeous and "The Ballad of Sacco and Vanzetti" is a terrific Western infused number. All in all, it’s a far better album than its reputation suggests.

By contrast 1973’s Any Day Now is probably the weakest. It’s not terrible, but there’s little that really stands out. The title track is all forced jollity which simply doesn’t work, and "Maria Bethania" is perhaps the worst track with Scott’s name on it - he sings in a weirdly cod-Jamaican accent which is hugely misguided. Things improve with the moody "Cowboy", a Randy Newman song that Scott interprets well, and towards the end of the record we have two tracks (Jimmy Webb’s "If Ships Were Made To Sail" and a lovely song called "We Could Be Flying") that hint at past glories with intriguing string arrangements and a more committed vocal. But the rest of the album is dominated by bored sounding covers of songs like "Ain’t No Sunshine" and "David Gates’ "If" – and in fact Telly (Kojak) Savalas actually did a better version a year or so later, which kind of demonstrates how poor Scott’s version is…

Scott put out another album later in 1973 – the country influenced Stretch. It’s a better album, and Scott seems keener on these country songs, but the song arrangements are sadly dull and ultimately rather forgettable, with only Scott’s peerless vocals to recommend them. Best track – a lovely version of another Randy Newman song, "Just One Smile", which reminds the listener just what a tremendous singer Scott is, while at the same time reminding the listener of how wasted this tremendous voice is, on such blandly presented material.

In 1974 we had another country styled album – We Had It All at least tried something new. Scott had discovered an up and coming country singer called Billy Joe Shaver, and four of the new album’s songs were by him. But Scott, being lazy, didn’t record the new songs until summer 1974, by which time Waylon Jennings, a man with infinitely bigger Country credentials, had issued an album of Shaver’s songs (including all the ones that Scott had chosen) called Honky Tonk Heroes. By the time of its release We Had It All simply came across as a poor man’s version of the very successful Waylon Jennings album, saddled with syrupy arrangements and uninteresting instrumentation. However, Scott still manages to rise above the blandness with a lovely version of Gordon Lightfoot’s standard "Sundown" and on all the songs his vocals are just perfect.

 

After this of course he rejoined John and Gary Walker in 1975 for the No Regrets album – an album with basically one staggeringly good song and a bunch of really weak filler. The sheer power of the superb title track bludgeons the rest of the album into the dirt. They followed this a year later with Lines which was generally a better overall record, though with no real standout tracks.

 

And then, just as it looked like the Walker Brothers would fade out into ignominious obscurity they issued the bizarre Nite Flights in 1978. For the first time in ages the album was newly composed: four supremely dull John Walker songs, two bland Gary Walker songs and four new Scott Walker tracks of astounding originality.

 

The new Scott tracks were like nothing he'd ever written before. Taking the sound of Bowie's "Heroes" as a starting point, Scott's songs for Nite Flights are startlingly futuristic. Gone is the cloying sentimentality of the past, gone are the romantic strings, gone is that swoonsome baritone voice. Instead we have harsh guitars, pounding drums, a foghorn of a vocal style and lyrics that are, frankly scary. The title track is a nightmarish melange of visceral imagery - "the dark dug up by dogs / the stitches torn and broke / the raw meat fist - you choke" - what it all means is anyone's guess, but it creates terrifying mood. This was a whole new Scott Walker, uncompromising, doing things entirely his own way. It sets the template for much of the rest of Scott’s career.

 

The crowning glory of Scott's four songs is "The Electrician" - musically it switches from high shimmering strings which create an extremely uneasy air, to an incongruous mariachi sound in the middle of the song. The vocal is assured, confident and commanding. The lyrics, when they can be deciphered at all, seem to concern torture in South America. It's both utterly beautiful and absolutely terrifying - a description that can be used for virtually every track in Scott's later career.  

 

An EP of just the brilliant Scott tracks was issued alongside the album, and - sorry John and Gary - this is really all you need. 

the next day - the return of david bowie

I had never expected to hear anything new from David Bowie; I would have put good money him never releasing any new material ever again, and I'd resigned myself a few years back to the fact that he'd clearly retired. So this was a huge shock. The first listen to "Where Are We Now?" play was approached with quite some trepidation and to be honest I was slightly disappointed on first listen. It doesn't immediately grab your attention and I think my expectations were way too high.

But after just the second play something clicked in my brain and I realised that it was genuinely one of the most marvellous recordings I'd heard for quite some time. There's a quiet restrained dignity about it, a lack of pretension and flashiness that's both disarming and charming. And there are a couple of points which actually choked me up a bit. The understated emotion shines through the more you hear the song. And although you may read in the ill-informed press that Bowie's voice is not what is was, well I would strongly disagree with that. His vocal is actually very reminiscent of "Thursdays Child", the lovely, and similarly vulnerable, single from 1999. Both songs have Bowie singing in a slightly weary, melancholy manner. But this is clearly deliberate - it's not a showy vocal, it's intentionally low key, he's acting the song, like he's done so many times before, and if you listen to the end of the song there's absolutely no doubt that he hasn't actually lost any of the power in his voice - so pooey to the stupid hacks and the doubters!

Unsurprisingly it most closely resembles the sound on Heathen and Reality, Bowie's previous two albums, both produced by Tony Visconti and featuring many of the same musicians. The textures, the way Bowie's voice is recorded, the guitar sounds - they all expand upon techniques used by Visconti on tracks like Reality's "The Loneliest Guy" (another song with a faltering and hesitant vocal, deliberately sung in this vulnerable manner by a man in full control), or Heathen's "I Would Be Your Slave".
 

To strengthen my conviction that his voice was undiminished by time I looked at the testimony of producer Tony Visconti, who spent two years on the new album. He says that Bowie still has one of the strongest voices he's ever worked with in a studio, and that Bowie's health is extremely good. That's good to know, as the rumours - based on absolutely no proof whatsoever - over the past few years have saddled David with everything from a stroke to cancer. Visconti expressed some surprise that this song was chosen as the lead single for the album, as it is rather atypical of the rest of the album. But, Visconti noted with a smile, as always David does just what he wants and it always works out fine.

And the video was oddly compelling, and decidedly weird. And as such, it's very Bowie. Towards the end there are a couple of shots of DB standing in a messy art studio looking rather serious, but somehow, at 66 he still manages to look so damn cool that the first time I saw this I broke into such a big grin.

By tea time on that first day the song was number one in the iTunes charts! - so pooey also to the Biebers and the Rihannas - here's a proper song, played by real people and sung by a man who needs no autotune. Aside from the song itself, I think what really wowed commentators is that it came completely out of nowhere. The secrecy surrounding the new project was brilliant. Absolutely no-one knew anything until the video was distributed. In an age where Lady Gaga is giving you minute-by-minute updates via Twitter on what hat she's going to wear ('do I choose the one shaped like a toilet or the one made of beef??'), DB has recorded an entire album and NO ONE KNEW. Who else could pull this off?

 

Then the album, The Next Day came out in March. 

I know I’m biased, and I’d probably have liked almost anything Bowie came up with after ten years of silence, but really, objectively, this is such a fresh sounding, exciting, exhilarating record that it genuinely doesn’t sound like an album recorded by a 66 year old. I hope all the rumours of ill health that have dogged Bowie over the past few years are just that, or at the very least any ill health is now behind him, because on the evidence of The Next Day there’s so much more creativity and life in him yet. 14 tracks, all of equally high standard, every one a little gem, and every one intensely different from the others. It’s like 14 different facets of Bowie. Plus there's 4 more bonus tracks to be had, and they are all pretty damn good too.

On first listen I was totally entranced, and my smile grew wider and wider as the album progressed. There’s so much going on - on every song there are dozens of little nods to the past, great fun for a seasoned Bowie fan like me, yet there is absolutely no wallowing in past glories. And it grows with every listen. Every new play reveals more and more. This is an urgent album, demanding your complete attention, and it positively bristles with invention. Most of the songs are around the three / four minute mark, they are all tight, concise, no filler, no flab. Some tracks have the most fantastic backing vocals, others have stonkingly heavy guitar work, some have bizarre rhythms and frantic drumming, and all have some of the best vocals that DB has ever committed to tape.

"Where Are We Now?" had attracted a lot of press comments about how tremulous Bowie’s voice sounded. As I suspected this was intentional, Bowie was acting the song – the rest of the album finds him really belting out some tracks – for example, the angry title song opens the album with a massive burst of energy and a cracking vocal - ‘here I am, not quite dying’ snarls DB in what is surely a dig at all those who’d written him off.

I could waffle on all day about how much I love this record but here are some of the highlights -

the deceptively catchy "Valentine’s Day" has one of the sweetest melodies on the album, yet the lyrics deal with a kid shooting his classmates at school… the closing "Heat" which is moody and mysterious and is as close to Scott Walker as DB has ever come. Musically this song could have fitted onto Scott’s Climate Of Hunter.

Elsewhere there are a couple of frantically loopy songs – "If You Can See Me" seems to have every musician playing at a different speed with Bowie spitting out the vocal, yet unaccountably it all hangs together and it really sticks in your brain. And "How Does The Grass Grow?" finds Bowie la-la-ing the melody from the Shadows’ "Apache", which ought to be very silly, but comes over as weirdly sinister. Then there are the more straightforward songs like "The Stars (Are Out Tonight)" or "You Will Set The World On Fire" which ROCK and slower pieces like the sinister "Dirty Boys" which is over far too quickly, or the Low-esque "Love Is Lost" which is full of Eno-style squelchy drums. "I’d Rather Be High" has a chorus that sounds like the most 1960s chorus ever, yet the verses have angular, very Tom Verlaine-esque guitars.

The band is magnificent. Bowie has used a small group of tried and tested musicians, people he knew he could rely on entirely. Earl Slick and Gerry Leonard combine to become every guitarist Bowie has ever worked with, plus a whole load that he hasn’t – here there’s a Frippian sound, over there a bit of Reeves Gabrels, or a dash of Belew, or a Mick Ronson lick. But it’s all new, so very fresh and it’s genuinely thrilling stuff.

The drumming is superb – Zachary Alford takes the lion's share, but Bowie stalwart Sterling Campbell also anchors a number of songs – Sterling has worked with Bowie for nearly 20 years, and the links go further back as his drum teacher was none other than Dennis Davis, Bowie’s drummer from Young Americans to Scary Monsters.

On bass we have the ever-wonderful Gail Ann Dorsey on most songs, with Tony Levin on a couple and producer Tony Visconti on another. Bowie himself plays a bit of guitar, and most of the keyboards, and apart from the odd saxophone overdub or strings session that was pretty much it. A small group playing much of the material live in the studio.

I bought the CD, from a real shop. I walked back to work feeling absurdly pleased with myself that I’ve bought every Bowie album since Let’s Dance (30 years ago almost to the day) on the day of release. I’ve no idea why that’s important but it somehow makes me feel good… even having the streamed version prior to the actual release date didn't reduced the excitement of picking up The New David Bowie Album off the shelf. And those are words I never thought I’d be typing in 2013.

Of course I bought the deluxe edition with the bonus tracks. These are very much bonus pieces – they probably wouldn’t fit on the album anywhere else, but I’m slightly disappointed that they’ve been added onto the end (rather than occupying a bonus disc) as they kind of spoil the brilliant ending that "Heat" provides. The darkness and mystery of "Heat" will be somewhat spoiled by the jaunty swing of "So She" which now follows.

But these are minor (and fixable) quibbles. The music itself is astonishing, the singing is even more astonishing considering the 10 year lay off, and the lyrics are by turns dark and troubling, witty and playful, and densely opaque – as all the best Bowie lyrics always are.

The sleeve design, with its rework of the "Heroes" sleeve, has grown on me, but the fold out lyric sheet is incredibly hard to read - doesn’t Bowie realise that some of us are getting on a bit and our eyesight isn’t what it used to be!

Probably the best thing about this album is that it sounds so very David Bowie, all the little touches of past Bowie songs are whooshed up into a sound which is partly new, partly familiar, but completely Bowie. It couldn’t be anyone else. As I said, every track is tremendous, every track is unique and every track is a brilliant experience. This may not be Bowie’s best album – there are just too many other candidates for that title – but it’s certainly up there with the best. I really, genuinely, mean that.

Welcome back, David, it's so good to have you back in my life again!