David Bowie—The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars

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David Bowie—The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1972)

The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars—The 1960s were when rock and roll started to get weird. With the advent of psychedelia, songs like "Hound Dog" and "Roll over Beethoven" were eclipsed by ones like "Burning of the Midnight Lamp" and "2000 Light Years from Home." As with the latter, outer space, space travel, and the notion of extraterrestrial life became hugely influential on popular music. Songs were written before, during, and after the Apollo 11 moon landing on July 20th, 1969, but none are more inextricably tied to it than David Bowie's "Space Oddity" released nine days prior. The worldwide hit, which remains one of his most enduring and beloved songs, put him on the map, but the album that followed had little to do with "Space Oddity" or space themes in general.

That album, David Bowie (1969), is sometimes referred to simply as Space Oddity both because of that song's notoriety and because Bowie's debut was also called David Bowie. Its themes were hazy, grotesque, and introspective. When focused, such as on "Memory of a Free Festival," they were often quite pastoral, seeming the opposite of spacey. On his following albums, Bowie would refine these sensibilities, first with the good The Man Who Sold the World (1970) and then the great Hunky Dory (1971). At this time, Bowie was producing new music at a an increasingly rapid pace. Most of The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars was already written or recorded (ca. November 1971) before Hunky Dory was even out the door. That album, while not a monster seller initially, was met with immediate warmth, which likely provided a boost to Bowie's ego. Thus, his iconic Ziggy Stardust persona was born.

Bowie had personality from the beginning, but he nearly always presented vague androgyny and outsider qualities rather than a concrete character. In January 1972, the Ziggy Stardust tour began in England (later moving to the U.S., Japan, and other parts of the U.K), when Bowie began to dress up in elaborate costumes designed by Kansai Yamamoto, red hair, and extensive, glamorous makeup. It is, of course, during this time that glam rock hit its zenith, with Ziggy being arguably its most exemplary character, album, and song. While the movement produced many memorable albums by T. Rex, Roxy Music, and Bowie himself, among others, Ziggy was special—it had a story.

It begins with the apocalyptic love song "Five Years," in which humanity finds out it has "five years left to cry in." The T. Rex-esque rock spiritual "Soul Love" pontificates on love and God. "Moonage Daydream" was repurposed from Bowie's Arnold Corns side project, which was essentially a '71 incarnation of backing band Spiders from Mars (Mick Ronson, Trevor Bolder, Mick Woodmansey) plus fashion designer Freddie Burretti. It was released as a single that year, but failed; the Ziggy version rocks harder (especially on Mick Ronson's legendary solo), and features altered, more absurd lyrics as well as more varied reverb, echo treatments, and horn parts.

The wondrous "Starman," which was recorded last and almost didn't even make the album (a cover of Chuck Berry's "Around and Around" was in its place in the initial running order), became Bowie's biggest hit (#10 U.K.) since "Space Oddity" (#5) and even hit an unprecedented #41 in the United States. In the context of the album, its lyrics present the mindsets of young people hearing Ziggy on the radio, who until that point had forsaken rock and roll. Interestingly, the song they are hearing can actually be inferred to be "All the Young Dudes," which was written by Bowie specifically for Mott the Hoople in a move to save their career. In that song, Ziggy sings about the decadence of youth; in "Starman," he continues his exposition in which he reveals that the "infinites" (the starmen) are coming to Earth and may save it. Musically, the song fittingly borrows from gay icon Judy Garland's "Over the Rainbow" for its memorable chorus, which becomes increasingly variegated with each iteration before swelling into a warm, symphonic cheer. A warped cover of Ron Davies' honky-tonk "It Ain't Easy," a holdover from Hunky Dory, closes the side, providing some post hoc thematic cohesion (also being another last-minute replacement of a cover: Jacques Brel's "Amsterdam").

Swelling Marc Bolan tribute "Lady Stardust" is quietly one of the album's best songs. The transient "Star," by contrast, is one of the least essential. "Hang on to Yourself," the B-side of the Arnold Corns single, is heavier than the original, which was more of a frenzied folk-inspired tune. Incomparable theme song "Ziggy Stardust" summarizes the story promised by the album's title; bits of it can be seen or heard in virtually every type of media and social phenomenon. Spirited, raunchy blues "Suffragette City" (initially offered to Mott the Hoople just prior to "All the Young Dudes"), is well-known for its build-ups and false stop. On the bittersweet, acoustic-symphonic "Rock 'n' Roll Suicide," Ziggy dies as he is consumed by the infinites to make themselves corporeal. It also, of course, served as the showstopper during the tour, including at the conclusion of the final show, documented in the Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars film (1973) and its accompanying album, Ziggy Stardust: The Motion Picture (1983).

There's no question that Ziggy Stardust is a classic album, but it's always been less clear where it stands in Bowie's oeuvre. It's probably not his masterpiece, compared with more careful works like Hunky Dory, Low (1977), "Heroes" (1977), or Scary Monsters (1980)—the songs "Star" and the cover "It Ain't Easy" disrupt the album's flow in a minor way, but only because the rest of the songs are of such high quality by contrast. Produced during a hectic period in Bowie's life, Ziggy has a certain unpolished, naive energy to it that's often as off-putting as it is endearing. Of course, that was part of the point; Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars were supposed to be a basic rock and roll band, and on that level, it succeeds. It's greater than the sum of its parts, and it's charming. No matter how you cut it, "Starman, "Ziggy Stardust," and "Suffragette City" are some of the best songs Bowie ever produced, and the entire package is a star that won't burn out for a long time.

More David Bowie reviews by The Old Noise:

David Bowie (1967)
David Bowie (1969)
The Man Who Sold the World (1970)
Hunky Dory (1971)
The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1972)
Aladdin Sane (1973)
Pin Ups (1973)
Diamond Dogs (1974)
David Live (1974)
Young Americans (1975)
Station to Station (1976)
Low (1977)
"Heroes" (1977)
Stage (1978)
Lodger (1979)
Scary Monsters (1980)
Let's Dance (1983)
Ziggy Stardust: The Motion Picture (1983)
Tonight (1984)
Never Let Me Down (1987)
Black Tie White Noise (1993)
The Buddha of Suburbia (1993)
Outside (1995)
Earthling (1997)
'Hours...' (1999)
Heathen (2002)
Reality (2003)
The Next Day (2013)
Blackstar (2016)

Big Star—#1 Record

Big Star—#1 Record

#1 Record—Big Star was a band that was simultaneously behind and ahead of the times. Modeled largely after bands from the British Invasion, they arrived a year after the breakup of the Beatles and well after the Rolling Stones had abandoned any pretense of being a pop band. Big Star came to be formed when Alex Chilton, formerly of the Box Tops, joined Chris Bell's band Icewater. Chilton could be seen as analogous to John Lennon, bringing a dissonant edge to the music of the more McCartney-esque Bell. As with many good songwriting partnerships, however, each brought something to the other's music that improved it.

#1 Record captures on tape something rare as it pertains to human experience: the moment just before the point of collapse. Big Star, despite rave reviews, was destined to crash and burn. The debut album was released on John Fry's Ardent label, based in Memphis, Tennessee (the hometown of every band member aside from bass player Andy Hummel) and was to be distributed by Stax, but Stax hit a wall trying to sell it. The reason why is unclear—perhaps emerging soul, funk, and hard rock trends rendered #1 Record outmoded, and drummer Jody Stephens quipped, "it's not a good idea to release a new act in the Christmas season" (interview with Perfect Sound, December 1996)—but its commercial failure led to the effective demise of the band not long afterward.

It's easy to say now that #1 Record is a great album, which mixed pop sensibilities with the kind of angst uncommon to that which it embodies. "Feel" mixes brittle, anxious guitar with horns to create a sound that was unique for the time. What really captures the listener, though, is Chris Bell's profoundly affected vocal; Bell, who would be killed in a single-car accident in 1978, had a truly singular voice. He would only record a handful of other songs in his time, most of which were compiled for I Am the Cosmos. He sings, "Feel like I'm dyin'/Never gonna live again," over a tumultuous relationship. Chilton answers with the existential "The Ballad of El Goodo," treated to harmonic backing by Bell, and the simplistic "In the Street." Sung by Bell, the ode to youth would become the theme song to That '70s Show, and could be seen as a spiritual precursor to the Smashing Pumpkins' "1979."

"I don't know if the general population even knows that Big Star had anything to do with it. As a matter of fact, it's funny, [Wilco and I] played "In the Street" together ... my wife was in the audience and she said, when we started playing "In the Street," somebody sitting in back of her said, 'Why are they playing That '70s Show song?'" —Jody Stephens for Songfacts, "What Made Big Star Shine" (June 17, 2013)

"Thirteen" looks back on childhood romance, referencing the Rolling Stones' 1966 single "Paint It Black"; the song suggests a relationship between two people of different ages, which has been the subject of discussion; its arrangement is slight as to suggest innocence, and includes the line, "Would you be an outlaw for my love," but otherwise does not harbor ill intent, and seems to imply a somewhat minor age gap. Bell's cathartic "Don't Lie to Me" is augmented by Chilton's blues licks, and Hummel's middling "The India Song" sounds like it belongs on a lesser Nick Drake album. "When My Baby's Beside Me" rollicks with great pleasure, unwittingly showing up all of Chilton's predecessors in both performance and craft. "My Life Is Right" is one of the few Bell compositions that remained relatively free from Chilton's crookedness, but this also renders it unremarkable. "Give Me Another Chance" at first appears unremarkable until the fourth or fifth listen, when the unique instrumental backing and Bell's vocal overdubs catch the ear. "Try Again" pleases with its country-inflected solo, giving the album's flow the effect of sunset; ironically, this leads to the resplendent "Watch the Sunrise" and its bright strumming, the ringing chords and arpeggios no doubt the precursor to many an indie rock song. The esoterically titled closer "ST 100/6" is an attractive, minor song that serves a role similar to the Beatles' "Her Majesty" from Abbey Road.

#1 Record is often lumped in with Big Star's second record, Radio City (mainly because they have generally been reissued together), but it's important to keep the two separate in discussion, as they are wildly different. In the case of the former, its naivety is the only thing that detracts from its legend; some of its songs are sad in how vulnerably they depict the young group, and conceptually some of them are thin, mainly on the second side. Of course, it makes sense that the album would be frontloaded: Big Star expected to live up to the name, and the foundation began to crumble immediately the following year. But the flaws are minor, and #1 Record deserved what its titled attempted to prophesy.

Todd Rundgren—Something/Anything?

Todd Rundgren—Something/Anything?

Something/Anything?—A double album of pop music is almost a contradiction in terms. In the 1960s, an album was more of a brand than it was a work of art. Record companies teased the public with a 7" single and the promise that if they bought the album, they could expect more of the same. Many acts found that they could not produce enough quality music at one time to fill a long-player, a format which, at least initially, was more commonly used to compile existing recordings, such as that of an musical, live performance, or studio odds and ends. It wasn't until 1955 that multi-track recording was developed and 1957 that the mass production of stereo LPs became viable. That opened the door for technophiles like Todd Rundgren to enter the studio and have more complete control over the specifics that made it onto a record.

By the time Rundgren started recording Something/Anything? in 1971, he could do these things from the comfort of his home. He was afforded this luxury by his previous success as part of the bands Nazz and Runt, the latter of which was so heavily under his leadership that its two LPs (Runt and The Ballad of Todd Rundgren) are retroactively considered Rundgren solo albums. But when the term "solo album" is used, it usually means there were other musicians involved in the recording, if not the songwriting; Something/Anything? is the real deal, with Rundgren playing every instrument and producing the album himself—apart from side four, which was recorded with pick-up bands and features some covers.

Todd Rundgren is not someone who submits to ego concerns, admitting to being "pretty overbearing to deal with"¹ and prefers to mastermind his releases, though he would go back to using session musicians on many later efforts. He also lets his influences be known, as on the first song and premier single "I Saw the Light," echoing the previous year's "It's Too Late"/"I Feel the Earth Move" from Carole King's Tapestry. Recorded by Rundgren in "all of 20 minutes,"² it shows this in its simplicity but somehow transcends this in its humble arrangement, not daring the listener to find fault with it. "It Wouldn't Have Made Any Difference" is more nuanced in its chord changes and is a sparkling ballad that also impresses with its irregular vocal patterns. "Wolfman Jack" is an exhilarating tribute to the disc jockey of the same name, which upon its release as a single more than two years later was remixed with Wolfman Jack himself performing the opening lines. "Cold Morning Light" takes it down several notches to a pretty AM radio-flavored pop tune that could have fit alongside "The Ballad (Denny & Jean)." "It Takes Two to Tango (This Is for the Girls)" speaks for itself: a self-empowering seventh-chord anthem: typical musically for Rundgren. Side one—which it should be known the liner notes say is "A bouquet of ear-catching melodies"—closes out with the saccharine, downtempo organ crawl of "Sweeter Memories."

The second side ("This is the cerebral side") has arguably the most experimental material of the four. It is easy to miss the humor of "Intro" on first listen as Rundgren speaks about audible problems that arise during the processing of an album, challenging the listener to "find the sounds on the record." The following "Breathless" makes use of of these noises to create an instrumental jingle backed ironically with a breath track. "The Night the Carousel Burned Down" teeters on the possibility of being a real story ("My first movie score. Unfortunately, there is no movie to go with it."). "Saving Grace" and "Marlene" are more traditional than the rest of the side while the latter was probably most notable as the B-side to "I Saw the Light." "Song of the Viking" is a strange but welcome inclusion that is a faithful shanty possibly with some degree of metaphor. "I Went to the Mirror" closing out the first LP is the most drug-like song here, but also an interesting observation on fixating on smaller details ("In fact the last song is so cerebral it's almost embarrassing.").

"Black Maria" is one of the heavier and more involved songs in the set, with an almost-Led Zeppelin blues-rock sound to it (Side three: "The kid gets heavy."). "One More Day (No Word)" is a gem, styled like a romancero with an excellent arrangement ("... about people with all the time in the world. What a drag"). "Couldn't I Just Tell You" has been rightfully hailed as a power-pop classic, and Rundgren knew it ("The hits just keep on coming."). "Torch Song" is everything it purports to be. "Little Red Lights" is perhaps the least immediately appealing song cut for the album, but it is interesting in its method of construction meant to resemble a car changing gears.

Side four is "A Pop Operetta," "a series of songs with sing along choruses" designed to be spontaneous (if that makes sense). However, "Overture – My Roots: Money (That's What I Want)/Messin' with the Kid)" is actually a pair of 1966 live recordings by pre-Nazz Rundgren groups Money ("Performed by a group of the same name") and Woody's Truck Stop respectively. "Dust in the Wind" is future Utopia member Moogy Klingman's song and a solid one that stands tall with Rundgren's. "Piss Aaron" works despite its strange subject matter: high school students pissing in the halls and puking over egg sandwiches. "Hello It's Me," the most enduring song from Rundgren's catalog, dates back to Nazz when it was recorded as a stripped-down psychedelic tune. Here it's delivered with fuller instrumentation and female backing vocals, giving it new life.

On "Some Folks Is Even Whiter than Me" "the kid waxes jive and breaks into a message song a la New Tempts" and somehow comes out smelling like a rose: Rundgren's studied and earnest delivery offsets his overstepping his boundaries as always. "You Left Me Sore" is made better by the note from the booklet: "The company's new president [...] has convinced the kid to write a public service kind of message song to hip people to the dangers of V.D." A possible candidate for best song in the whole collection is "Slut," featuring Eddie Olmos on backing vocals; though demeaning at first blush, it is a first-rate horned-out rocker that channels the Rolling Stones without borrowing from them.

Something/Anything? is, at the very least, an assemblage of songs that's worth owning on quality alone. It is a rare double album with no bad cuts—some better or more striking than others, but dynamics are a good thing. But it's also a studio triumph, more impressing in its production than many modern records, and a fascinating piece of music history for its quirks. Todd Rundgren made plenty of music at this level or higher before and after, but this is his seminal work.

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1 Liner notes of The Ballad of Todd Rundgren, 1999 CD reissue^↩
2 http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/features/todd-rundgren-nothing-but-the-truth-6165625.html^↩