On a personal note, this was the album that really kicked off my love of Bowie. I had been something of a casual fan before I was given this record on CD as a birthday present. It must have been early 2000s, methinks; the specific year I'm unsure of. The album was reissued on CD in 1999 as part of The David Bowie Series - 24 Bit Digitally Remastered range, and it's these editions that now dominate my Bowie collection.
Furthermore, this album is also very special to me because it was the first one that I learned and performed in full to a live audience. In fact, the Wesleys just celebrated 7 years since we played this record for the then-Newport Record Club in Fremantle. Time, it marches ever on.
Having been released four years before I was born, I marvel at what a ripple this record would have sent through the world. Not only was there delicious candy for the ears to enjoy, but also a mysterious, androgynous figure delighting in blurring the lines between genders and sexuality. Someone who outsiders could identify with and take strength from. The sexual revolution of the 1960s had paved the way for experimental behaviours and with it, some sense of abandon and freedom. Before that freedom had a severe sting in the tail when the harsh consequences of unprotected sex hit in the early 1980s, this was an era were many felt they could find their true self and their own sense of identity.
Bowie lit the way for many who felt they didn't belong anywhere, and in the creation of alien rock star Ziggy Stardust, he personified the ultimate outsider. Ziggy is lost in the rock n' roll lifestyle on a planet that only five years of life left. The opening song Five Years sets the scene beautifully with little vignettes of how different people react of this news. Not only one of favourite Bowie songs, I think it's one of my favourite album openers ever. Bookended by fading in and out drums, it's just brilliant. I love the slow build, I love the lyrics, I love the arrangements and production. What else can I say? It's tops.
Some of Bowie's best-known material from the early seventies are on this album. Starman, Suffragette City and, of course, the stunning title cut (kinda). One of the greatest Bowie songs to come out of the Ziggy era, Ziggy Stardust also has the distinction of being my wife's favourite song. Like, ever. The first time I heard the words "Now, Ziggy played guitar..." was on the TV advertisement for the new Changesbowie compilation album, around 1990. It was intercut with other snippets of songs; some I knew, some I didn't. I ended up buying a copy of it on cassette while my family and I were in Bali, and the songs from this album that appeared on that tape I then heard for the very first time.
Ronson would also add piano, organ, synth, backing vocals and string arrangements to this album. Along with the rhythm section of drummer Mick 'Woody' Woodmansey and bassist Trevor Bolder, Bowie had his backing band known as, you guessed it, The Spiders from Mars. A different line-up of the group without Ronson (or Bowie) released a self-titled album in 1976. Except for the uncredited harpsichord from Rick Wakeman and backing vocals from Dana Gillespie on It Ain't Easy, the whole record was the product of the Bowie and the three Spiders.
It Ain't Easy is a bizarre choice to include on this album. Written by American songwriter Ron Davies, it sticks out like a sore thumb. It doesn't seem to fit with the album's loose narrative, and I'd have to say that it's the weakest track here as well. One wonders if it was chosen for filler, to bring the album to a decent length. But why was it picked over cracking tracks like John, I'm Only Dancing and Velvet Goldmine, which didn't find homes on an album? I think if you remove It Ain't Easy and replace it with either one or both songs this record would be even better.
Other big highlights for me include the ode to Marc Bolan, Lady Stardust and the anthemic stomper Hang On To Yourself. What a rockin' tune! Of course, another jewel in the album's crown is closing track Rock 'N' Roll Suicide, which ties every up in a neat little package. Bowie's rousing delivery of "Oh no, love, you're not alone" is one of his most iconic moments. When the strings signal the end of the song, and with it the album, you feel like you've gone on some kind of journey. Whether you feel thankful that you're not a dead alien rock star or not on a planet doomed to live for only five more years, you can certainly be thankful for the music.
I give this 4.5/5 and I will no doubt listen to it again.
NEXT UP: Tonight - September 1st
(yes, quite the gap now, huh? I'll have to blog about something else in the interim)
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