Young Americans

It was forty six years ago today that Bowie released his ninth studio album; one that well and truly marked the end of his Ziggy Stardust persona. Digging into what would become known as the blue-eyed soul genre, Bowie set up camp in Philadelphia at Sigma Sound Studios after the end of the first half of his Diamond Dogs tour in 1974. Famously utilising the wonderful vocal talents of Ava Cherry, Robin Clark and Luther Vandross, this album also marks the first studio album co-produced by Tony Visconti since 1970's The Man Who Sold The World.

Also in Bowie's band for this record were pianist extraordinaire Mike Garson, guitarist Carlos Alomar (Clark's husband), legendary bassist Willie Weeks, and Andy Newmark on drums. Joining them on the saxophone was David Sanborn, and Bowie himself contributed guitar and keyboards. From these sessions came the fabulous title track and other album highlights including Can You Hear Me? and Right. 

There is a soulful feel to these recordings, as the band strike a balance between early disco and classic R&B. Quite a few songs cut during this time didn't make the final album including a cover of Springsteen's It's Hard To Be A Saint in the City, After Today, Who Can I Be Now?, It's Gonna Be Me and a re-recording of John, I'm Only Dancing, titled John, I'm Only Dancing (Again).  

The backing vocals make for some compelling listening, particularly on Right where there are some rapid fire lines delivered, which apparently were arranged just as Bowie heard them in his head:

"Wishing.."

"Wishing you.."

"..that.."

"Sometimes.."

"Doing it"

"Doing it right

"Til.."

"One time"

"..gets you when you're down.."

"Nobody!"

After the second half of the Diamond Dogs tour concluded, Bowie took the group to the Record Plant studio in New York to cut two new songs: the gently lilting Win and the upbeat Fascination, the latter co-written with Vandross. With the album pretty much complete, Visconti began mixing what he thought was the final product in London. Bowie remained in New York working on other mixes with engineer Harry Maslin. 

Bowie had recently met and befriended John Lennon, who was at the Record Plant working on his Rock 'n' Roll album during this time. The two pair decided to do some recording together at Electric Lady Studios in January 1975. Without Visconti, Harry Maslin was called in to co-produce the songs, and he would later go on to produce Station to Station. Also present were guitarist Earl Slick, drummer Dennis Davis (first time on a Bowie record for both), bassist Emir Kassan, percussionist Ralph McDonald and backing singers Jean Fineberg and Jean Millington. Oh, and Carlos Alomar, of course!

This would yield two tracks, a cover of Across the Universe and Fame, which was co-written by Bowie with Lennon and Alomar. Delighted with these recordings, Bowie added them to the Young Americans album, usurping the aforementioned Who Can I Be Now? and It's Gonna Be Me; much to Visconti's alleged dismay. While the Beatles cover is a semi-interesting, albeit somewhat unnecessary, re-working of the Lennon tune, Fame is arguably the album highlight. With a stabbing guitar groove and a relentlessly plodding bassline, the song has a looseness that tightens up just when it needs to. Indeed, it's difficult to imagine this record without it.

Young Americans, the song and album, haven't been as revered as other entries in Bowie's body of work, but I think the title track is worth the price of admission. When the drums kick off the title track, that piano sweeps in and that hooky sax line begins it's pretty joyful. It would rank as one of my favourite Bowie songs, and definitely one of the biggest high-points on this record; next to Fame, of course. 

Even though the record only has eight songs on it, the running time still reaches the forty minute mark. Some of those tracks that didn't make the cut could possibly have fit, or the overlong Somebody Up There Like Me could have been significantly shortened. There is an unreleased album, The Gouster, which features a seven-song track listing that includes Who Can I Be Now? and It's Gonna Be Me. There are different takes and mixes of songs that are on Young Americans, with the only the title track remaining the same. Nothing recorded after the Record Plant sessions in New York is included; so, no Fame, Win, Fascination or Across the Universe. The album is available as part of the Who Can I Be Now? (1974-1976) box set. 

While it's not one of my favourite Bowie albums, there is a lot to like about it. I give this 3.5/5 and would listen again.

NEXT UP: The Next Day - 8th March

Lennon Tunes

Every year, around the time of John Lennon's birthday (October 9th), I load up a gig with lots of Lennon solo songs and Beatles tunes. This year I used my regular Thursday night at Rosie's Freo for this purpose. Just for a little bit of posterity, I wanted to keep a record of which songs I threw in.

I started off playing a Lennon or Beatles track every three or four songs in my first set.

SET ONE:

Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)

Jealous Guy

Woman

No Reply

Help!

Watching The Wheels

Strawberry Field Forever

I employed a similar strategy for my shorter, second set.

SET TWO:

Come Together

Nowhere Man

How Do You Sleep?

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

(Just Like) Starting Over

For my last set, I just decided that it would be all Beatles and Lennon songs. I only had about thirty or forty minutes to go, so why not?

SET THREE:

Mother

Eight Days a Week

Please Please Me

Instant Karma!

Revolution

Across The Universe

From Me To You

Ticket To Ride

Imagine

In My Life

A Hard Day's Night

I think I managed to get a pretty good cross section there. I really wanted to throw in a couple more from the Plastic Ono Band album; namely Love and Isolation. I also dig Nobody Loves You (When You're Down And Out) and meant to give that a guernsey as well. Oh well, you get that. It would cool to do a Lennon Tribute night with a full band one day. I'd actually like to perform the Plastic Ono Band in its entirety with a heap of cool encores.

CLAY'S eleven

I was asked by a good friend of mine to make him a CD. He asked me to pick eleven songs that mean something to me. He also told me not to over think it, and just do it. 

I did probably give this task too much thought, but I like to do these little things. This felt quite similar to the Essential20 idea that Justin floated through us a couple of years back. Only this time, I didn't have to rely on Spotify. I knew I would have everything I wanted.

Of course, I tried to include my BIG FIVE, and I got three out of the five. I had a bit of an epiphany a little while ago where five musical artists revealed themselves to be my absolute favourites:

1. Neil Young
2. Bob Dylan
3. Frank Zappa
4. Paul Kelly
5. David Bowie

For whatever reason, these five musicians are the ones where I've tried the hardest to listen to their entire body of work. I haven't quite got there with all five yet, but I'm certainly making headway.

Anyway, I decided to distance myself from my favourite bands and songs and stuff and hone in on music that provoked an emotional response of some kind from me. As someone else would be listening to it, I also thought it best to keep the length of the tracks fairly short too; no twenty six minute prog rock epics here! The longest song goes for six and half minutes, but they tend to be between three and four.

I think I've come up with a fairly indicative list, but as is always the case with these things, I've missed a few songs. I'm not going to dwell on those missed choices though. For whatever reason, I feel that these eleven tracks were the ones I was meant to pick.

Anyway, here they are:

1. Desperados Under The Eaves by Warren Zevon (Warren Zevon, 1976)

I went through a pretty big Warren Zevon phase a few years back after a fellow who worked at Rosie O'Grady's lent me the A Quiet Normal Life compilation. This was a track that constantly grabbed me whenever it played. I seemed to be drawn in by it, and as the song builds towards it end, I would feel a little teary for some reason. It's not a sad song or anything, but the arrangement is pretty stirring. I have been lucky to play it live a handful of times, and it has some of my favourite lyrics that Zevon ever wrote. I was always pretty bummed that I didn't really get into his music until after he died.

2. Don't Let It Bring You Down by Neil Young (After The Gold Rush, 1970)

Of course there had to be a Neil Young song in here, and I landed on this one. Not only my favourite song from my favourite Neil Young album, but it has a lyric that I found myself quoting a lot over the years:

"Don't let it bring you down/

It's only castles burning..."

I don't really know what it means, but I find it strangely comforting. I feel it expresses a desire to rise above whatever situation who find yourself in. I might be wrong, but that's the great thing about music, isn't it?

3. The Lighthouse Song by Josh Pyke (Chimney's Afire, 2008)

Rhona and I both love Josh Pyke and we've seen him live about seven or eight times. His music speaks to both of us, and we even have lyrics from one of his songs on our bedroom wall. I chose this track because it always reminds of me of Rhona. When things get a little tough, and the world seems to be closing in around us, this songs almost becomes something of a mantra. We're about to celebrate our 15 year wedding anniversary and I think our relationship is stronger than it's ever been. I cherish our marriage dearly, and I don't take it for granted. This song feels like it's about us, in a weird way.

4. Pink Moon by Nick Drake (Pink Moon, 1972)

I had to listen to Nick Drake's Pink Moon as part of my blogging adventures for afyccim, and it was my first ever experience with the man. I was struck by the song's simplicity and beauty. That piano in the middle of the track is just wondrous. It just does something to me. It centres and clams me. I love it. 

5. The Mission: Unexplainable Stories by Cloud Cult (Light Chasers, 2010)

From the first time I heard this song, I loved it. The opening brass lines grabbed me and I was hooked within ten seconds. It wouldn't surprise you to know that this song is from a concept album, and this is the start of the story, but it works quite well on its own. I absolutely love how the musical layers stack up throughout the track. It's stunning.

6. (Nice Dream) by Radiohead (The Bends, 1995)

For a long time, I held this album to be my favourite of all time, and it's still up there. I chose this song because I think everything great about Radiohead is in this one track. Lovely melodic vocals, lush arrangements, screaming guitars and beautiful counter melodies. Its the latter than really grab here. When they start up in the middle choruses, I just get taken away. He he he...and then the guitars shake me out of it.

7. God by John Lennon (John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band, 1970)

I've spent a large portion of my life as fan of The Beatles, and I still am one. John has always been my favourite Beatle, and I gravitate towards the songs he wrote. When I chose my ten essential Beatles tracks recently, seven of them were John's. This album is a very strong contender for my all time favourite too. Such raw honesty and emotion. This track in particular strips away the idea that John clings to any ideal, religion or figure. All that matters is his relationship with Yoko, and again that's something I relate to me and Rhona. I also love this song for Ringo's drumming; every fill on the "I don't believe in..." lines is different. 

8. The Golden Age by Beck (Sea Change, 2002)

Another one of those songs that just takes me away. I love listening to this one while I'm driving, as the lyrics describe being in the car. Again, it's a fairly simple song, but the arrangement and the vocal layering elevate it well above the average track. This is another song that seems to calm or soothe me.

9. Not Dark Yet by Bob Dylan (Time Out Of Mind, 1997)

This hypnotic, almost dirge-like track is the longest one in this list. It's slow, it's fairly simple, but I love the lyrics and the repeated guitar riff. It feels like the musical equivalent of an ocean wave; the song just washes over you. This album was the beginning of one of my favourite Dylan eras, and it always reminds me of the road he went down. 

10. Little Aches And Pains by Paul Kelly (Spring And Fall, 2012)

I love Paul Kelly, and if there's any songwriter I wish I could emulate, he's it. His observational style and storytelling skills paint such vivid images. This track is a little different, but it still evokes a picture of sorts. As the song's narrator talks about getting older and how he always feels little aches and pains, Kelly knocks out some of my favourite lyrics:

"Disabled we're born, disabled we die/

Is that a cliche? I'll make it one/

Hope it doesn't get too creaky..."

I also hold this track as something special because the first time I heard was live. Rhona and I went to see the Paul Kelly documentary Stories Of Me at the Astor Theatre and Kelly came out at the end of the film to play a few songs. This was one of them, and I loved it immediately. We were lucky enough to score front row tickets too, so he was directly in front of us. Magic moment.

11. It's A Motherfucker by Eels (Daisies Of The Galaxy, 2000)

Despite the profanity, this is a beautiful song. Those strings are just amazing, and I think it's one of the most perfect arrangements I've ever heard. It's a nice way to the end of the list too. I think this was the song that started me down the Eels' rabbit hole as well. I haven't listened to the last three or four albums, but I should get onto that.

So, there you have it. I might try to do this again in a little while, as an experiment, and see what I choose then.