david bowie

Hunky Dory

Posted on by Matt

hunky_dory

Album: Hunky Dory

Artist: David Bowie

Released: December 17th, 1971

Highlights: Changes, Oh You Pretty Things, Life on Mars?, Queen Bitch

As a music star that became known, among many reasons, for often metamorphosing into new characters or abruptly embracing unexpected styles, it is not surprising to say that, with “Hunky Dory”, David Bowie turned a corner. Doing so was his trade, and before his fourth record the artist had already undergone a couple of drastic changes, as the whimsical baroque pop weirdo of “David Bowie” had become the folk singer of “Space Oddity”, who – in turn – eventually emerged as an extravagant hard rocker of Black Sabbath inspirations in “The Man Who Sold the World”. The shift presented by “Hunky Dory”, however, feels bigger and more significant than the mutations that preceded it, for while the works that were crafted before it came off as the products of a songwriter tapping into multiple genres as some sort of musical soul-searching, “Hunky Dory” is the eureka moment; the epiphany of a man who suddenly found what he had been looking for whilst fumbling in the darkness.

Therefore, “Hunky Dory” is pivotal. It is not that Bowie had yet to birth any classic tunes; after all, songs like “Space Oddity”, “The Width of a Circle”, and “The Man Who Sold the World” had already been launched into existence. It is just that “Hunky Dory” is more refreshing, original, and consistent than anything else he had done by 1971. The unabashed quirks and soothing orchestration of his debut, the acoustic flavors of his sophomore outing, and the flamboyant guitars of his third effort are still vividly present, sometimes combined in the same track but more frequently serving as the backbones of distinct tunes. The difference is those pieces sound stronger here, not only because they give birth to tunes that are mostly excellent, but also due to how Bowie has found a realm to call his own: an explosion of warm and welcoming pop sensibilities that is unafraid to drag its listeners towards weird turns of psychedelia and experimentation.

That journey starts with four immaculate and immediately classic piano-led tunes: “Changes”, with its introspective mediation accompanied by horns and strings; “Oh You Pretty Things”, which quickly goes from quiet ballad to glam rock swagger when it reaches its chorus; “Eight Line Poem”, where a tasteful slide guitar enhances the beauty of a testament to musical simplicity; and “Life On Mars?”, an orchestrated epic that seamlessly integrates a simple trip to the cinema and deep existential questions. Following that sequence, and having soothed his listeners into the experience, Bowie dares to open the doors to an absolute madhouse of styles and experiments: he adds British traits to a Neil Young inspired folk country sing-along (“Kooks”); goes operatic in a beautiful multi-phased ballad that rises from an acoustic strum to an orchestrated piece filled with harmonies and layers of sound (“Quicksand”); and pays homage to some of his idols either by covering their songs (“Fill Your Heart”, originally performed by Biff Rose), name-dropping them (“Andy Warhol” and “Song for Bob Dylan”), or tackling the same themes in which they thrived (“Queen Bitch”, a hard-rocking tune that nods to The Velvet Underground by being centered around a transvestite).

Bowie wraps the trip up with “The Bewlay Brothers”, a psychedelic ballad whose unpredictability and stream-of-consciousness lyrics mirror the schizophrenia that affected his brother. Although the more experimental side of “Hunky Dory” does not pack the undeniable greatness of its opening tracks, as it alternates great moments with a few songs that are slightly lacking, it reveals Bowie as an artist that would – through the length of his career – challenge his listeners in surprising ways, throwing odd curveballs at them amidst all the remarkable hits. Therefore, even though Bowie’s artistic character was nearly unidentifiable due to its mercurial nature, “Hunky Dory” established the general framework he would follow: that of a man who knew how to explore music in both its most accessible and daring facets.

The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars

Posted on by Matt

ziggy_stardust

Album: The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars

Artist: David Bowie

Released: June 16th, 1972

Highlights: Five Years, Starman, Lady Stardust, Ziggy Stardust

Ziggy played guitar. And it was with the electrical instrument in his hands and a message of hope in his mouth that the rock-superstar-turned-alien-messenger quickly conquered the world; surfed the waves of stardom to a life of love, promiscuous sex, fame, and drug-related issues; and retired as suddenly and unexpectedly as he rose to prominence. Ziggy’s story is brilliant because it blurs the line separating fiction from reality. By dressing as the androgynous glittery figure he created, Bowie and Ziggy became one. After all, how could anybody possibly tell them apart when the life and fate that was written for Ziggy was pretty much the same one that is reserved to rock stars such as Bowie? Through Ziggy Stardust, Bowie chose to make a mockery out of the blind adoration people have for musical artists. And, seeking to prove his point with the witty sensitivity that makes artistic geniuses, he became the messianic figure that is universally worshiped and idolized. He turned into what he aimed to criticize.

In the universe Bowie paints, Earth has fallen to the exploitation of its resources and humanity is given, on the record’s opening number, five years to live. Society, then, collapses: adults lose their grip on the responsibilities of reality; while kids, because of the degradation of the folks who are supposed to make them walk the line, gain access to everything they had always thought they wanted. In the midst of the chaos, Ziggy Stardust (a regular and decadent rock star, as the genre was on its way down) receives a message of hope from outer space. In his garish clothing, alien makeup, and red hair, Ziggy, advised by a managerial figure, takes it upon himself to sing it to the world. Desperately looking for a thread of relief to latch onto, the youngsters blindly flock to Ziggy, take him as an untouchable flawless idol, and the fabricated artist gains access to the debauched excesses of life successful rock and rollers sink into.

More than a clever and biting criticism whose layers of sarcasm are ingeniously hidden below the shiny fabricated stardust, Bowie’s fifth record works as a flashy farewell. With the death of the myth he constructs and destroys during the course of thirty-eight minutes, Bowie would abandon the rock music into which he was born and expand his experimental boundaries, a road that would culminate with his legendary Berlin trilogy. And he leaves the rock and roll ship not just by using Ziggy to bring down the heavenly aura that surrounded those who built it, but also by excelling in the genre. The eleven tracks of the album are utterly perfect exercises in rock music, as if Bowie opted to – before moving on – do everything he possibly could as well as humanly possible.

The theatrical “Five Years”, with its sweeping piano-based crescendo, is one of the finest opening tracks in musical history. “Starman”, “Lady Stardust”, and “Ziggy Stardust” tackle rock balladry in all its shapes, the first existing in a purely pop spectrum; the second swinging sweetly in the sway of its piano; and the third alternating melodic verses and an angry chorus. “Star”, “Hang On To Yourself”, and “Suffragette City” pay worthy homages to the purposely clumsy and out-of-control protopunk of The Velvet Underground. While “Soul Love” and “Moonage Daydream” are so embedded in the outrageous ways of glam rock that they could have been tracks written by Marc Bolan (who gets a respectful nod from Bowie by being the subject matter of “Lady Stardust”) for the genre’s seminal album: T. Rex’s “Electric Warrior”. At last, in “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide”, after singing praises to his heroes, bowing to their greatness, and thriving in the styles they forged, Ziggy disappears into the cosmic darkness as he succumbs to the weight of stardom that certainly must have hurt those he idolized. With Ziggy’s death, Bowie finds an escape hatch out of the empty and destructive rock and roll lifestyle. Ziggy would live on as a tragic legend; Bowie would soon be reborn.