Hello again! It's been a while since I posted anything here. Various choir concerts and Easter have occupied recent weekends, but I wanted to write about two recent passings in the music world that meant a lot to me.
First, I'd like to focus on the brilliant George Martin, a producer/arranger/musician I've admired for many years, mostly for his truly groundbreaking work with the Beatles, but also for another couple of albums that are still among my favourites.
In the next post, I'll talk about Keith Emerson, another hard-working musician whose work had a large impact on my musical tastes and explorations.
But, to George Martin first...
"The Fifth Beatle"
In the interview published in Playboy magazine around the time of John Lennon's untimely death, the interviewer asked him to comment on the classification of George Martin as "The Fifth Beatle." To my dismay, Lennon arrogantly dismissed his contribution, saying things to the effect of, "Tell me one song George Martin wrote - please." This was manifestly unfair, and has bothered me ever since.
Not to disparage the memory of St. John of the 'Pool, but there are so many Beatles songs that wouldn't have sounded the same, or barely existed, without what George Martin wrote, or played, or contributed, it's hard to know where to start - but I'll mention a few:
Instrumental Solos and ensembles:
George himself plays the brief Baroque-style piano solo on John's "In My Life." It sounds a little "harpsichordy" because the solo is actually sped up slightly to match the key of the song.
The French horn solo in "For No One" is also a great addition, adding to the melancholy feeling of one of the great break-up songs.
And the piccolo trumpet solo in "Penny Lane," playing against the straight rhythm of the song, is a perfectly eccentric addition to a song about childhood memories of eccentric people.
And don't forget about the delightful clarinet ensembles in "When I'm Sixty-Four," or "Honey Pie." Those songs wouldn't be nearly as charming without them.
String arrangements:
What would Paul's songs like "Yesterday," "Eleanor Rigby," or "She's Leaving Home" sound like without Martin's string ensembles? Think of the held high A note in the last iteration of "Why she had to go, I don't know, She wouldn't say" in "Yesterday," or the rising echoes of the strings to the words, "Where do they all come from?" and "Where do they all belong?" in "Eleanor Rigby." They wouldn't sound the same without them, would they? Think of the hundreds of covers of "Yesterday": are any of them really as affecting as the original?
To give credit where it's due, Paul's singing in all these songs is excellent. Listen to how he bends some of the vowel sounds to give a mournful, weary quality to the words. Another reason they still hold up after (gulp) fifty years.
As for John's songs, with his limited instrumental knowledge, all he could do was suggest the effect he wanted, like an ensemble of some sort starting at a low note and rising to a high one in the two climactic sections of "A Day In the Life." It was Martin who actually wrote the amazing orchestral arrangements, both ending on a high E, that we all know. Also, John only asked for swooping and sliding effects in the accompaniment of "I Am the Walrus." George Martin arranged the string and vocal ensembles to give life to what were only sketchy ideas.
Then, there's "Being For the Benefit of Mr. Kite," a song which would not have the same effect without the "mad circus" sounds created by taking snippets of stock calliope/carnival sounds, literally throwing them in the air, and then splicing them together for some truly unheard-of effects. Again, Lennon suggests; Martin delivers.
George Martin also guided the Beatles in recording techniques, starting at two-track recording, to four-track, to eight-track, along with overdubbing practices that enabled them to create a sound that was so advanced, it couldn't be replicated live.
Throughout, his signature was always a clean, clear, balanced sound, without undue interference. To see what I mean, listen to Abbey Road (especially the ensemble vocals on "Sun King" or "Because"), then to Let It Be, which was produced by Phil Spector. The difference is quite noticeable.
Other Albums
George Martin produced other artists, of course, including comedy ensemble The Goons (pre-Beatles), Cilla Black, and the folk-rock group America, among others. I won't speak to these particular artists, due to unfamiliarity, but there are two albums that I am familiar enough with to comment on - the two jazz-influenced LPs Jeff Beck put out in the mid-1970s, Blow By Blow and Wired.
Both albums benefit from Martin's clean sound, but, in particular, the string arrangements on Blow By Blow merit comment:
The last section of the tune "Scatterbrain" launches into a 9/8-time figure played by Beck and his three-man ensemble first, but then they are joined by a string ensemble, playing the same figure. Then, there is a break, where Beck plays another repeating riff, and then the song slowly fades out, with the strings returning to that 9/8 figure, as Beck solos over them. It was the track that ended the first side of the LP, and it's very effective.
My favourite tune on the album, though, has always been the last one, a version of Bernie Holland's "Diamond Dust." To this day, I remain intrigued - and thrilled - by the main theme, an angular yet lovely melody, apparently in 5/4 time. It is moody, melancholy, uplifting and fascinating all at the same time. The string ensemble is very much present here, but the highlight is at the end, where it takes over completely (save for Richard Bailey's drums), and Martin arranges the melody into - wait for it - a fugue (not a word you associate with rock or jazz) to bring the album to a finish on a lush chord (don't ask me what chord it is - my ear's not good enough to tell. But it is beautiful.).
It's just magical - I never hear that ending without wishing the song would keep going! One of the greatest "late-night" tunes anybody ever did.
Well, those are a few of my thoughts on the late George Martin - for me, a seminal figure in rock music, and someone who lived a long, productive, amazing life.
It is his touch that makes the Beatles' music, as well as those great Jeff Beck albums, live on for music lovers.
Sunday, 3 April 2016
Monday, 25 January 2016
Thoughts on David Bowie Part II
In the last post, I shared my impressions of David Bowie as a musician, with some musings about the albums I was most familiar with, from Space Oddity to Heroes.
In this post, I'd like to talk more about this multi-faceted man, with some thoughts about his acting roles, live performances and the David Bowie Is... exhibit. These are once again personal observations, and thus limited to my own recollections and impressions.
The Movie Roles
The first (and really, only) lead role David Bowie had was in Nicolas Roeg's 1976 cult flick, The Man Who Fell to Earth. The role used Bowie's own natural diffidence to advantage, as he played an alien who takes the form of inventor/entrepreneur Thomas Newton. Newton is trying to finance his return to his water-starved home planet, but is soon seduced by (pardon the pun) earthly pleasures, particularly alcohol, and ends up stranded here.
The best aspect of the movie, for me, is his relationship with Mary-Lou, played by lovely Candy Clark. In once scene, he accompanies her to church, where he struggles to sing "Jerusalem" with the rest of the congregation. I had to smile when I saw that; imagine, David Bowie having trouble carrying a tune!
Since then, Bowie appeared in various roles, many of which I can't comment on too extensively: The Hunger, where he played John Blaylock, one half of a vampire couple (with Catherine Deneuve). I've only seen this film once, and quite a few years ago; Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence, playing a British POW in a WWII Japanese camp. I have never seen this movie, though I hear he is very good*; Just a Gigolo, as as a German WWI veteran who takes up a career as a gigolo to make ends meet; the Goblin King in Jim Henson's Labyrinth, a role in which he showed a menacing edge; Pontius Pilate in Scorsese's The Last Temptation of Christ, which I've only seen once, and I honestly do not remember his performance at all, I'm embarrassed to say; and Basquiat, about the NYC artist, where Bowie played a real person for the first time, Andy Warhol. I haven't seen this one, either.
But there are two roles he played that I do admire (and remember!), one of which I absolutely relish; this was his performance as Colin Morris, aka The Englishman, in John Landis' Into the Night, from 1985. Into the Night is one of my favourite movies of all time; every time I watch it, I'm just delighted. There are many small, quirky performances, including those from other film directors, like Roger Vadim, David Cronenberg, Paul Mazursky, and Landis himself, as well as cameos by Don Siegel, Jim Henson, and others.
There are also musicians in acting roles here, including a turn by Carl Perkins as a big, menacing bodyguard, and of course, Bowie's gleefully psycho gunman, who is convinced that Jeff Goldblum's schlubby Ed Okin is some kind of master criminal! ("You can stop performing now, 'Ed' - if that's your name," he smirks). Later, there is a huge fight scene in a posh hotel suite, between Bowie, Perkins and Goldblum, to the accompaniment of an Abbott & Costello movie on multiple TVs!
The other performance by Bowie that sticks in my mind, though I've only seen it once, is his portrayal of another actual person, Nikolai Tesla, in 2006's The Prestige. He gives the character real depth, with a world-weariness that's quite affecting. Just a small part, but quite memorable, in a movie that I frankly expected to be better, what with Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, Michael Caine, Scarlett Johansson and Piper Perabo in the cast.
*(Update: I have just recently seen Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence on Blu-Ray, and yes, he is very good, as defiant - and guilt-haunted - POW Maj. "Strafer Jack" Celliers. There is even a hint of madness in his portrayal of the character, perhaps a foreshadowing of the thoroughly demented Colin Morris in Into the Night. I had to smile a bit, though, because, as with Thomas Newton, he was again playing a character who is quite tone-deaf!)
In Person/Live
I had the pleasure of seeing David Bowie live once, at Maple Leaf Gardens in 1978, not long after the release of Heroes. This was the concert tour that was captured on the double live album, Stage.
Well, I wasn't disappointed, I'll tell you. The first thing they played were the opening notes of "Warszawa," and from that point on, I was happy.
Bowie was playing no persona here, he was just himself, immaculately dressed, of course, and in fine voice. I remember at one point noting how his voice resonated through the whole of that cavernous venue. Yes, of course it was amplified, but it was still powerful.
He was somewhat reserved and shy in person, seeming genuinely touched by the applause and enthusiasm of the crowd. He was aided ably in the band by his longtime guitarist, Carlos Alomar, who bounced happily around the stage, providing an energetic foil to Bowie's quiet presence.
They ran through tracks from Heroes and Low, as well as older songs, going back as far as Ziggy Stardust. No "Space Oddity," though, and I wasn't sorry (and I'm sure he wasn't, by that time) that they didn't play it.
I also remember seeing a TV special in the 1990s on A&E, part of the "Live By Request" series, that featured Bowie and his band, around the time of the Heathen album. Once again, I noticed his quiet charm and diffidence, as he performed requests for a small audience. It was there that I saw him use the stylophone, which he had played on Space Oddity and The Man Who Sold the World, and was to use again on Heathen. It's a hand-held electronic keyboard, with an octave-or-so range, played with a stylus - hence the name. Only he would showcase such an obscure instrument!
"David Bowie Is..."
I was also privileged to see this exhibit, which ran for some weeks at the Art Gallery of Ontario, one of only a few venues outside of England to show it.
This was an absolutely massive exhibit, ambitiously covering as many aspects of Bowie's career as possible; his hundreds of songs, of course; his early years in London; his influence on music videos; being a fashion icon; his film roles; and more. I spent the whole late morning and afternoon in the exhibit, and had to be chased out by an attendant at closing time!
I already respected and admired Bowie's music for many reasons, but this exhibit increased that respect and admiration many times over.
What was overwhelmingly clear was the massive amount of work the man put into his songs. From his early recordings in 1966-67 on, the control he exercised over his music was amazing.
The exhibit included the copy of The Oxford Companion To Music, from which he learned arranging, as well as several pieces of music manuscript showing his handwritten arrangements for early songs like "London Boys" and "Space Oddity." In fact, there was an entire small room devoted to that one song, showing his string arrangements, contemporary newspapers with headlines about the Apollo missions (where he got the inspiration for the song), and the proto-music video for the first version of it.
There was also a handwritten chart for the vocal arrangements for backup singers for one song on Young Americans. No notation, just a kind of graph showing at what points the voices were to sing the "ooh"s or "mmm"s in the song.
Many people have called David Bowie a genius, mostly since his untimely passing; if anything, this aspect of the exhibit was proof of the humourous definition of "genius" as one percent inspiration and 99 percent perspiration!
I was quite thrilled to see a couple of the (surprisingly basic) synthesizers that were used in the recording of those chilling songs on Low and Heroes. This was part of a room dedicated to Bowie's sojourn in Berlin, and included photos, and some of Bowie's own artwork from that period.
There were also displays of the many stage outfits he wore over the years, with footage of the actual concerts where he wore them projected on the walls behind.
As well, there was a whole room devoted to Bowie's many groundbreaking music videos. We take these so much for granted now, that some may not realize how far ahead of their time some of these were. As I mentioned in the last post, I never saw a purpose-made "music video," promoting a single song, before "The Jean Genie." And let's not forget his innovative video for "Ashes to Ashes," or some of those for his more recent albums, that could well include his last ones, for "Blackstar" and "Lazarus."
Also, there was a small room set up to look like a recording booth, with the walls lined with the full-size covers of all Bowie's albums up to that point (The Next Day had only just been released, and of course, Blackstar was yet to come). It was just overwhelming to think of one person having written all that music, much less performed it, arranged it and toured with it.
There were more things in the exhibit, but I won't try to cover them all. Needless to say, it was an incredible thrill to see the world of such a multifaceted artist opened up to me, and I'll surely never forget it.
Finally...
Want to know the main reason I admire David Bowie? By living his life, he showed that it makes no difference what someone looks like, or their sexual orientation, or their personal demons. In the end, we're all people, and we're all equal.
There will never be another David Bowie.
In this post, I'd like to talk more about this multi-faceted man, with some thoughts about his acting roles, live performances and the David Bowie Is... exhibit. These are once again personal observations, and thus limited to my own recollections and impressions.
The Movie Roles
The first (and really, only) lead role David Bowie had was in Nicolas Roeg's 1976 cult flick, The Man Who Fell to Earth. The role used Bowie's own natural diffidence to advantage, as he played an alien who takes the form of inventor/entrepreneur Thomas Newton. Newton is trying to finance his return to his water-starved home planet, but is soon seduced by (pardon the pun) earthly pleasures, particularly alcohol, and ends up stranded here.
The best aspect of the movie, for me, is his relationship with Mary-Lou, played by lovely Candy Clark. In once scene, he accompanies her to church, where he struggles to sing "Jerusalem" with the rest of the congregation. I had to smile when I saw that; imagine, David Bowie having trouble carrying a tune!
Since then, Bowie appeared in various roles, many of which I can't comment on too extensively: The Hunger, where he played John Blaylock, one half of a vampire couple (with Catherine Deneuve). I've only seen this film once, and quite a few years ago; Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence, playing a British POW in a WWII Japanese camp. I have never seen this movie, though I hear he is very good*; Just a Gigolo, as as a German WWI veteran who takes up a career as a gigolo to make ends meet; the Goblin King in Jim Henson's Labyrinth, a role in which he showed a menacing edge; Pontius Pilate in Scorsese's The Last Temptation of Christ, which I've only seen once, and I honestly do not remember his performance at all, I'm embarrassed to say; and Basquiat, about the NYC artist, where Bowie played a real person for the first time, Andy Warhol. I haven't seen this one, either.
But there are two roles he played that I do admire (and remember!), one of which I absolutely relish; this was his performance as Colin Morris, aka The Englishman, in John Landis' Into the Night, from 1985. Into the Night is one of my favourite movies of all time; every time I watch it, I'm just delighted. There are many small, quirky performances, including those from other film directors, like Roger Vadim, David Cronenberg, Paul Mazursky, and Landis himself, as well as cameos by Don Siegel, Jim Henson, and others.
There are also musicians in acting roles here, including a turn by Carl Perkins as a big, menacing bodyguard, and of course, Bowie's gleefully psycho gunman, who is convinced that Jeff Goldblum's schlubby Ed Okin is some kind of master criminal! ("You can stop performing now, 'Ed' - if that's your name," he smirks). Later, there is a huge fight scene in a posh hotel suite, between Bowie, Perkins and Goldblum, to the accompaniment of an Abbott & Costello movie on multiple TVs!
The other performance by Bowie that sticks in my mind, though I've only seen it once, is his portrayal of another actual person, Nikolai Tesla, in 2006's The Prestige. He gives the character real depth, with a world-weariness that's quite affecting. Just a small part, but quite memorable, in a movie that I frankly expected to be better, what with Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, Michael Caine, Scarlett Johansson and Piper Perabo in the cast.
*(Update: I have just recently seen Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence on Blu-Ray, and yes, he is very good, as defiant - and guilt-haunted - POW Maj. "Strafer Jack" Celliers. There is even a hint of madness in his portrayal of the character, perhaps a foreshadowing of the thoroughly demented Colin Morris in Into the Night. I had to smile a bit, though, because, as with Thomas Newton, he was again playing a character who is quite tone-deaf!)
In Person/Live
I had the pleasure of seeing David Bowie live once, at Maple Leaf Gardens in 1978, not long after the release of Heroes. This was the concert tour that was captured on the double live album, Stage.
Well, I wasn't disappointed, I'll tell you. The first thing they played were the opening notes of "Warszawa," and from that point on, I was happy.
Bowie was playing no persona here, he was just himself, immaculately dressed, of course, and in fine voice. I remember at one point noting how his voice resonated through the whole of that cavernous venue. Yes, of course it was amplified, but it was still powerful.
He was somewhat reserved and shy in person, seeming genuinely touched by the applause and enthusiasm of the crowd. He was aided ably in the band by his longtime guitarist, Carlos Alomar, who bounced happily around the stage, providing an energetic foil to Bowie's quiet presence.
They ran through tracks from Heroes and Low, as well as older songs, going back as far as Ziggy Stardust. No "Space Oddity," though, and I wasn't sorry (and I'm sure he wasn't, by that time) that they didn't play it.
I also remember seeing a TV special in the 1990s on A&E, part of the "Live By Request" series, that featured Bowie and his band, around the time of the Heathen album. Once again, I noticed his quiet charm and diffidence, as he performed requests for a small audience. It was there that I saw him use the stylophone, which he had played on Space Oddity and The Man Who Sold the World, and was to use again on Heathen. It's a hand-held electronic keyboard, with an octave-or-so range, played with a stylus - hence the name. Only he would showcase such an obscure instrument!
"David Bowie Is..."
I was also privileged to see this exhibit, which ran for some weeks at the Art Gallery of Ontario, one of only a few venues outside of England to show it.
This was an absolutely massive exhibit, ambitiously covering as many aspects of Bowie's career as possible; his hundreds of songs, of course; his early years in London; his influence on music videos; being a fashion icon; his film roles; and more. I spent the whole late morning and afternoon in the exhibit, and had to be chased out by an attendant at closing time!
I already respected and admired Bowie's music for many reasons, but this exhibit increased that respect and admiration many times over.
What was overwhelmingly clear was the massive amount of work the man put into his songs. From his early recordings in 1966-67 on, the control he exercised over his music was amazing.
The exhibit included the copy of The Oxford Companion To Music, from which he learned arranging, as well as several pieces of music manuscript showing his handwritten arrangements for early songs like "London Boys" and "Space Oddity." In fact, there was an entire small room devoted to that one song, showing his string arrangements, contemporary newspapers with headlines about the Apollo missions (where he got the inspiration for the song), and the proto-music video for the first version of it.
There was also a handwritten chart for the vocal arrangements for backup singers for one song on Young Americans. No notation, just a kind of graph showing at what points the voices were to sing the "ooh"s or "mmm"s in the song.
Many people have called David Bowie a genius, mostly since his untimely passing; if anything, this aspect of the exhibit was proof of the humourous definition of "genius" as one percent inspiration and 99 percent perspiration!
I was quite thrilled to see a couple of the (surprisingly basic) synthesizers that were used in the recording of those chilling songs on Low and Heroes. This was part of a room dedicated to Bowie's sojourn in Berlin, and included photos, and some of Bowie's own artwork from that period.
There were also displays of the many stage outfits he wore over the years, with footage of the actual concerts where he wore them projected on the walls behind.
As well, there was a whole room devoted to Bowie's many groundbreaking music videos. We take these so much for granted now, that some may not realize how far ahead of their time some of these were. As I mentioned in the last post, I never saw a purpose-made "music video," promoting a single song, before "The Jean Genie." And let's not forget his innovative video for "Ashes to Ashes," or some of those for his more recent albums, that could well include his last ones, for "Blackstar" and "Lazarus."
Also, there was a small room set up to look like a recording booth, with the walls lined with the full-size covers of all Bowie's albums up to that point (The Next Day had only just been released, and of course, Blackstar was yet to come). It was just overwhelming to think of one person having written all that music, much less performed it, arranged it and toured with it.
There were more things in the exhibit, but I won't try to cover them all. Needless to say, it was an incredible thrill to see the world of such a multifaceted artist opened up to me, and I'll surely never forget it.
Finally...
Want to know the main reason I admire David Bowie? By living his life, he showed that it makes no difference what someone looks like, or their sexual orientation, or their personal demons. In the end, we're all people, and we're all equal.
There will never be another David Bowie.
Monday, 18 January 2016
Thoughts on David Bowie - Part I
On January 8 this year, I posted a tweet on the occasion of David Bowie's 69th birthday, and on the release of his new album - "from a longtime fan."
On January 11, I had to collect my thoughts and send out another tweet, because David Bowie had died.
The massive torrent of tweets and messages was incredible, and showed how many people's lives David Bowie touched. I was a little overwhelmed, because I felt like I had a personal experience of the man that was unique. It was like, "What's everyone else so upset about? I'm the one who really appreciated him." Turns out there were millions of others who felt that way, too.
So, here are some personal thoughts about David Bowie, and the impact he had on my life. I'll focus mainly on his music, mostly on the early albums that I'm most familiar with.
There are other areas that he touched - some that mean more to others than to me - and I will mention a few of them in the next post.
The Albums:
Space Oddity
For my 15th birthday, my older brother presented me with a copy of Space Oddity. On the front cover was a large closeup of a thin, good-looking guy with spiky red hair, and on the back was the same wiry guy, sitting in an effeminate, knock-kneed pose, in a silvery outfit ("Is that a man?" asked our dad. "Yes," we replied, "It's David Bowie." "I thought it was a girl," he said.).
Well, my brother and I listened to that album many times during the rest of the winter, and at first, I admit I was a little baffled by the music. But it got hold of me eventually, and I played the album over and over.
The reason for my bafflement was that I had never heard songs like this before. I was used to the standard "verse-chorus" structure that even the Beatles had almost never strayed from.
I could talk about every track on this album, but two songs in particular really smashed my perceptions of how a song should go:
"Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed" starts off as an acoustic guitar-accompanied ballad to a snooty rich girl, but (d)evolves into a jaunty tune with full accompaniment, and a Bo Diddley rhythm, not to mention some of the most surrealistic lyrics you can imagine: "And the Braque on the wall/Slides down your front/And eats through your belly./It's very catching," being just a small sample.
Then there's "Cygnet Committee," a song I still find intriguing after all this time. It begins with a quiet instrumental intro, with bass, electric guitar, and electric harpsichord (played by pre-Yes Rick Wakeman.) It slowly builds to a higher and higher pitch, with lyrics that appear to be about a band of revolutionaries, to a kind of apocalyptic climax (even borrowing Dylan's phrase "desolation row" at one point), and an ending about hope ("I want to believe that a light's shining through somehow"), with Bowie keening at the end, "I want to live...live...live" over and over.
I remember saying to my brother about the song, "It doesn't really go anywhere," This was not a criticism, but an observation - perhaps even an epiphany. This was new territory for me; a nine-minute song that had no structure (save for a brief return to the opening verse), but was so powerful and affecting that it still moves me forty years later.
It was years later that I discovered that the album had been made over, circa 1972, as Space Oddity from the original 1968 album, Man of Words/Man of Music, due to the huge popularity of the "Space Oddity" single in '72.
A similar thing was to happen with Bowie's next album, for various reasons. And that leads us to...
The Man Who Sold the World
This was an album with no less than three different covers. The initial 1970 one, and the one that most are probably familiar with now, features Bowie, replete with shoulder-length hair, reclining sideways on a divan, in a unisex dress.
This was a bit too much for the powers that were, and the cover that was released for the reissue in 1972 (and the one that first made its way into our household) featured a black-and white photo of a heavily made-up Bowie with guitar, pouting at the camera while doing a high kick. The back cover was another high contrast black-and-white photo of a silhouetted Bowie singing and playing his omnipresent twelve-string acoustic.
The third cover consisted of several rather crude-looking cartoons, vaguely related to some of the songs on the album. The 1999 CD release has a couple of these in the insert. But it was the black-and-white cover that I knew best, and it seemed to exemplify well enough the eccentricities of the Bowie persona I was becoming familiar with.
As for the music, this was the first album to feature the three-man band that would be with Bowie for the next three releases: Mick Ronson on guitar, Trevor Bolder on bass, and Mick Woodmansey on drums. The songs were mostly straight-ahead rock, though not without the odd touches (including instruments like recorders and stylophone) that would continue to set Bowie's music apart from the rest.
The track that will stay with me, though, is the quiet "After All." I had always liked it, but it also had an effect on another member of our family - our younger brother. He was to die very suddenly at age 25, and his grief-stricken friends remembered how much he liked the song, so it ended up being played at his funeral.
The title track of the album is also notable for having been covered in the 1990s by Nirvana. I can't say I cared for their version; it was just a straight reading of the song, and lacked the unsettling and mysterious qualities that I liked in the original, like the background guiro (another unusual instrumental touch), and the distorted vocals.
Hunky Dory
Then came Hunky Dory, perhaps the most upbeat and happy album of Bowie's early career. He had gotten married, and had a son, variously named "Zowie" or "Joey." (He is now known as Duncan Jones, and is the respected writer/director of such movies as Moon and Source Code.) The cover again features Bowie with long hair, in a hand-tinted "glamour shot," - I've heard it referred to as "the Garbo cover."
Many of the songs are about contentment and home life, like "Eight Line Poem" and "Kooks," a song for his son about getting prepared for an unusual life.
On my most recent listen through the album, I happened to listen particularly closely to "Eight Line Poem," and was struck by the sweet, soulful guitar solo that Mick Ronson contributed to it, as well as to his flowing string arrangements throughout the album, and was saddened that he, too, had left us at much too young an age.
This album also once again featured Rick Wakeman on piano, and he adds a lot of flourishes to some of the songs, especially "Life On Mars?" and "Fill Your Heart."
There are stranger songs as well, of course, like "Quicksand"; also, odes to Bob Dylan and Andy Warhol; and one rocker, "Queen Bitch," featuring Ronson's unique "metallic" guitar sound, which would come more to the forefront on the next release.
The closing track is "The Bewlay Brothers," a contemplative track featuring, again, some very odd lyrics, almost as if he had used William S. Burroughs' "cut-up" technique: "And our talk was old, and dust would flow/Thru our veins, and Lo! it was midnight/Back o' the kitchen door/ Like the grim faces on the Cathedral floor." The song is considered to be about Bowie's brother, Terry, who was in and out of mental institutions for many years, and who would also die young. The song was apparently meaningful enough to Bowie that he was later to publish his songs under the rubric of "Bewlay Brothers Music."
Ziggy Stardust
The next album my brother was to bring home was probably Bowie's most popular and accessible, right up to the 1980s, and Let's Dance. This was The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars. It's a concept album about (again!) the end of the world, and the arrival of an alien musician, who ends up being killed by his own fans (one of Bowie's personal fears - that, or a plane crash). Again, mostly straight-ahead rockers, with simple instrumentation - Ronson's "metallic"-sounding electric guitar, and some saxophone work from Bowie.
The "second side" of the album, starting from "Lady Stardust," and ending with "Rock'n'Roll Suicide," is a true, coherent suite of songs, like the "second side" of the Beatles' Abbey Road, and stands along with it as a great achievement in emotional and musical range. Probably the best-known song here is "Suffragette City," which is a great up-tempo rocker, but lyrically, shows someone in great desperation. Perhaps it reflected Bowie's own state of mind, which climaxed with him announcing, at the end of the tour for this album, that he wasn't going to play live anymore.
Aladdin Sane
The creative juices kept flowing, however, and Bowie was to produce an album next that looked back on that tour, particularly the U.S. segment, and gave us Aladdin Sane. Everyone knows the cover of this one, featuring Bowie with closed eyes and the now-famous (cliched, almost?) "lightning-bolt" makeup.
It's full of impressionistic lyrics about (again) Andy Warhol, or cities like Detroit and Hollywood. "Panic In Detroit" stands out, due to its chugging (again) Bo Diddley rhythm, wailing backup singers, and lyrics about riots, abandoned cars and suicide.
There are also cover songs, of Bowie's own "The Prettiest Star," and a frenetic version of the Stones' "Let's Spend the Night Together."
An interesting addition to the arrangements was the presence of free-form pianist Mike Garson, who adds a striking contrast to the tight rhythms of the title track, and a beautiful, flowing, dreamlike accompaniment to the final track, "Lady Grinning Soul."
The most well-known track, though is "The Jean Genie," apparently a song about Iggy Pop. I recall seeing David Bowie being interviewed on TV, as he arrived in Canada on tour. I remember well his modesty and graciousness for those few minutes, and it's stuck with me ever since. Then, they played something I'd never seen before - the music video for "The Jean Genie."
Pin Ups
The last album Bowie was to do with "The Spiders From Mars" was Pin Ups, which my buddies derisively referred to as his "contractual obligation album." This was true in a sense, as Bowie was fulfilling his final obligations to the mismanaged MainMan organization which had represented him for some years. But it doesn't mean the album didn't rock like hell; it was blazing covers of some songs that Bowie had heard in London clubs in his teens. The likes of The Who, The Pretty Things, The Kinks, and others were represented.
The standout for me was a cover of "See Emily Play," the early Pink Floyd tune. It got me curious to hear more of their early stuff, and I've been a huge Syd Barrett fan ever since. I even borrowed Bowie's term "Syd's Pink Floyd" to distinguish between pre- and post-Barrett when talking about the Floyd.
Diamond Dogs
The next album he was to do was Diamond Dogs, which had a kind of "post-apocalyptic" theme, and borrowed some concepts from Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four, including a song with that actual title. The musicians are kind of "Bowie and backup," including longtime collaborator Herbie Flowers on bass, who had been on Space Oddity, as well as the Bowie-produced/Ronson-arranged 1972 Lou Reed classic, Transformer.
There is lots of good rock music on this album also, including the driving "1984," and the most well-known track, "Rebel Rebel," which features one of the great rock guitar riffs, and to my mind, is Bowie's answer to the Stones' "Satisfaction." Seriously, listen to them side by side sometime!
David Live
Bowie was to tour again after Diamond Dogs, and this is when he created his next persona, "The Thin White Duke," who wore zoot suits and fedoras, and where Bowie completely changed his musical style. This was "blue-eyed soul," which obliged him to change the sound of his voice, from the glam tenor of Ziggy Stardust to a rich, resonant baritone. I will admit that the album that came out of that tour, David Live, was a bit of a head-scratcher for me. It featured complete reworkings of his classic songs to suit the new "soul" sound, and I wasn't sure it all worked. I also thought his voice was very rough-sounding - as it turned out, this was the worst period in his life for drug problems, and that may have contributed to it.
Young Americans
The album that came out next was the formal introduction of this new persona, and was called Young Americans. This was all-soul, all the time, and featured his next hit, an early disco number, "Fame," co-written with album collaborator, John Lennon, also in the midst of drug (and marital) problems. This was the first album to feature guitarist Carlos Alomar, a bundle of energy who would be with Bowie for many years. It also included David Sanborn on saxophone, who would go on to many more collaborations and solo work, not to mention a young Luther Vandross.
The album also has a cover of Lennon's "Across the Universe," which, though much different from the Beatles version, holds its own as a more stripped-down, emotional reading.
When I hear some of these tracks now, I think I appreciate them more than I did at the time. My friends would say, "Why does he change his sound so often?" and I would reply, "Why not? He's looking for something new," but to be honest, I was feeling less enthusiastic as a fan myself.
It was around this time that Bowie took on his first major movie role, that of stranded alien (surprise!) Thomas Newton, in The Man Who Fell to Earth. I will talk about Bowie's acting career in another post, but scenes from this movie would appear on the covers of his next two albums...
Station to Station
Station to Station came out just as I was finishing high school, and there was a big hit from it on the radio, "Golden Years." My friends again dismissed it as a disco song, but I kind of liked the smooth, polished sound of it, and didn't consider it "disco" at all. I bought the album, and was impressed with the title track, with the "train" sounds at the beginning, and the changing tempi and time signatures (as well as some very offbeat lyrics). Having developed a liking for progressive rock, this was something I could get into! Some of the other tracks, like "Word on a Wing" or "Stay" were less enthralling, at the time.
The album grew on me through my post-secondary years, though, and I came to like it. Particularly outstanding is the final track, a passionate rendition of Dmitri Tiomkin's "Wild Is the Wind," that showcased Bowie's newfound soulful voice like never before.
In retrospect. Bowie was getting more sophisticated - but I wasn't. At that time, I was wondering whether I would feel enthusiastic enough to buy his next album. Well, life is full of surprises...
Low
I heard things about Bowie's next album that were intriguing: "He's taking a new direction." "He's got a new sound."
At a party I went to, things were winding down, and I crawled into a bed upstairs for the night. There was a radio in the room, and they announced a track off Bowie's new album. I didn't get the title - it sounded like some foreign language - but through my drowsiness, there came the most incredible piece of music I'd ever heard.
The next day, I raved to my friends about the song I'd heard, and as soon as I could, I went and bought the album. Another still from Man Who Fell on the cover, I noted, having seen the movie sometime before.
After the buzzsaw opening to the first track, "Speed of Life," I thought the songs weren't that different from before. There were synthesizers aplenty, which was a plus (I was, and still am, a huge fan of the sound of analogue synthesizers), but they were mostly uptempo, poppy tunes.
Then, I turned the LP over, and there was the song I'd heard: "Warszawa." From the opening drones of that piece, chills ran up and down my spine, and barely let up until the last track on the album. It was raw, haunting, despairing, chilling music, and subconsciously, I may have realized that it brought me back to those first "unstructured" songs on Space Oddity that had caught my attention years before.
The "lyrics" in two songs on the second side ("Warszawa" and "Subterraneans") were also a source of puzzlement. I sure couldn't make them out. As it turns out, they were merely meaningless syllables that Bowie sang as melodies. They are very effective, in any case, in adding another layer to the mysterious and enigmatic music.
I also noticed that the main collaborator on the album was someone I had been admiring for a while, Brian Eno. I had some of his albums at that time, Here Come the Warm Jets, Discreet Music and Another Green World, and had been fascinated with the things he did with music. Not only did he write incredibly clever and weird lyrics, he also did things with instrumentation and arrangements that were new and unique. So it was no surprise to me that he had helped Bowie achieve something new and brilliant.
This is my favourite David Bowie album, and one of my favourite albums ever. It still gives me chills.
Heroes
The next album to come out was also recorded during Bowie's "recovery" in Berlin. The striking cover was apparently (like that of Iggy Pop's The Idiot) loosely based on a painting he had seen in a Berlin art gallery.
Musically, at first, it seemed quite similar to Low, with faster, more mainstream tracks on the first side, and introspective, synth-laden instrumentals on the second. It again featured able assists from Brian Eno, and some of the (Side 2) tracks had a similar feel to those on Low. But this album ended with an uptempo piece, co-written with Eno and Carlos Alomar, "The Secret Life of Arabia." It was like Bowie was becoming more positive and hopeful, after the bleakness of the previous release. Mind you, there is still plenty of dark stuff here, like "Joe the Lion" and "Blackout."
The album also featured another personal (ahem) hero, guitarist Robert Fripp, a collaborator with Eno at least since Here Come the Warm Jets. His work on the title track is noteworthy for its keening, sustained notes, set atop Bowie's tight rhythms - in a way, invoking Mike Garson's work on Aladdin Sane.
And the Rest?
I will stop here.
I did get several of Bowie's later albums, including the third in the so-called "Berlin trilogy," Lodger, as well as Scary Monsters, Let's Dance, and others. Through the 1980s, though, my musical explorations turned more to classical music, and working in a record store enabled me to inexpensively purchase box sets of operas and symphonies that I felt more inclined to listen to at that time.
Then, CDs appeared, and I slowly started to replace my old, scratchy. pop- and click-laden LPs.
In 2000, there was a fire in my apartment, and many of my LPs (and some CDs) were damaged enough that I didn't keep them. Since then, I've been more selective about what music I buy, and since the advent of DVDs, I have collected more movies than music. What with cable TV and the internet, there are more options for entertainment now than I can get my head around, and collecting music is only something I do occasionally, when something really catches my ear. The last time I bought rock CDs in any number was during the grunge era!
I have heard some tracks from Bowie's last album, Blackstar, with the title track being particularly haunting, and will probably pick it up, once the frenzy for his albums dies down. (I was working in a record store at the time of Glenn Gould's passing, and you'd think, from the crowds that filled the place, that they weren't going to press any more of his albums, ever!)
I do have more to say about David Bowie, though, and in the next post, I'd like to talk (more briefly, I hope) about his film roles, seeing him live, and the David Bowie Is... exhibit. Stay tuned.
On January 11, I had to collect my thoughts and send out another tweet, because David Bowie had died.
The massive torrent of tweets and messages was incredible, and showed how many people's lives David Bowie touched. I was a little overwhelmed, because I felt like I had a personal experience of the man that was unique. It was like, "What's everyone else so upset about? I'm the one who really appreciated him." Turns out there were millions of others who felt that way, too.
So, here are some personal thoughts about David Bowie, and the impact he had on my life. I'll focus mainly on his music, mostly on the early albums that I'm most familiar with.
There are other areas that he touched - some that mean more to others than to me - and I will mention a few of them in the next post.
The Albums:
Space Oddity
For my 15th birthday, my older brother presented me with a copy of Space Oddity. On the front cover was a large closeup of a thin, good-looking guy with spiky red hair, and on the back was the same wiry guy, sitting in an effeminate, knock-kneed pose, in a silvery outfit ("Is that a man?" asked our dad. "Yes," we replied, "It's David Bowie." "I thought it was a girl," he said.).
Well, my brother and I listened to that album many times during the rest of the winter, and at first, I admit I was a little baffled by the music. But it got hold of me eventually, and I played the album over and over.
The reason for my bafflement was that I had never heard songs like this before. I was used to the standard "verse-chorus" structure that even the Beatles had almost never strayed from.
I could talk about every track on this album, but two songs in particular really smashed my perceptions of how a song should go:
"Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed" starts off as an acoustic guitar-accompanied ballad to a snooty rich girl, but (d)evolves into a jaunty tune with full accompaniment, and a Bo Diddley rhythm, not to mention some of the most surrealistic lyrics you can imagine: "And the Braque on the wall/Slides down your front/And eats through your belly./It's very catching," being just a small sample.
Then there's "Cygnet Committee," a song I still find intriguing after all this time. It begins with a quiet instrumental intro, with bass, electric guitar, and electric harpsichord (played by pre-Yes Rick Wakeman.) It slowly builds to a higher and higher pitch, with lyrics that appear to be about a band of revolutionaries, to a kind of apocalyptic climax (even borrowing Dylan's phrase "desolation row" at one point), and an ending about hope ("I want to believe that a light's shining through somehow"), with Bowie keening at the end, "I want to live...live...live" over and over.
I remember saying to my brother about the song, "It doesn't really go anywhere," This was not a criticism, but an observation - perhaps even an epiphany. This was new territory for me; a nine-minute song that had no structure (save for a brief return to the opening verse), but was so powerful and affecting that it still moves me forty years later.
It was years later that I discovered that the album had been made over, circa 1972, as Space Oddity from the original 1968 album, Man of Words/Man of Music, due to the huge popularity of the "Space Oddity" single in '72.
A similar thing was to happen with Bowie's next album, for various reasons. And that leads us to...
The Man Who Sold the World
This was an album with no less than three different covers. The initial 1970 one, and the one that most are probably familiar with now, features Bowie, replete with shoulder-length hair, reclining sideways on a divan, in a unisex dress.
This was a bit too much for the powers that were, and the cover that was released for the reissue in 1972 (and the one that first made its way into our household) featured a black-and white photo of a heavily made-up Bowie with guitar, pouting at the camera while doing a high kick. The back cover was another high contrast black-and-white photo of a silhouetted Bowie singing and playing his omnipresent twelve-string acoustic.
The third cover consisted of several rather crude-looking cartoons, vaguely related to some of the songs on the album. The 1999 CD release has a couple of these in the insert. But it was the black-and-white cover that I knew best, and it seemed to exemplify well enough the eccentricities of the Bowie persona I was becoming familiar with.
As for the music, this was the first album to feature the three-man band that would be with Bowie for the next three releases: Mick Ronson on guitar, Trevor Bolder on bass, and Mick Woodmansey on drums. The songs were mostly straight-ahead rock, though not without the odd touches (including instruments like recorders and stylophone) that would continue to set Bowie's music apart from the rest.
The track that will stay with me, though, is the quiet "After All." I had always liked it, but it also had an effect on another member of our family - our younger brother. He was to die very suddenly at age 25, and his grief-stricken friends remembered how much he liked the song, so it ended up being played at his funeral.
The title track of the album is also notable for having been covered in the 1990s by Nirvana. I can't say I cared for their version; it was just a straight reading of the song, and lacked the unsettling and mysterious qualities that I liked in the original, like the background guiro (another unusual instrumental touch), and the distorted vocals.
Hunky Dory
Then came Hunky Dory, perhaps the most upbeat and happy album of Bowie's early career. He had gotten married, and had a son, variously named "Zowie" or "Joey." (He is now known as Duncan Jones, and is the respected writer/director of such movies as Moon and Source Code.) The cover again features Bowie with long hair, in a hand-tinted "glamour shot," - I've heard it referred to as "the Garbo cover."
Many of the songs are about contentment and home life, like "Eight Line Poem" and "Kooks," a song for his son about getting prepared for an unusual life.
On my most recent listen through the album, I happened to listen particularly closely to "Eight Line Poem," and was struck by the sweet, soulful guitar solo that Mick Ronson contributed to it, as well as to his flowing string arrangements throughout the album, and was saddened that he, too, had left us at much too young an age.
This album also once again featured Rick Wakeman on piano, and he adds a lot of flourishes to some of the songs, especially "Life On Mars?" and "Fill Your Heart."
There are stranger songs as well, of course, like "Quicksand"; also, odes to Bob Dylan and Andy Warhol; and one rocker, "Queen Bitch," featuring Ronson's unique "metallic" guitar sound, which would come more to the forefront on the next release.
The closing track is "The Bewlay Brothers," a contemplative track featuring, again, some very odd lyrics, almost as if he had used William S. Burroughs' "cut-up" technique: "And our talk was old, and dust would flow/Thru our veins, and Lo! it was midnight/Back o' the kitchen door/ Like the grim faces on the Cathedral floor." The song is considered to be about Bowie's brother, Terry, who was in and out of mental institutions for many years, and who would also die young. The song was apparently meaningful enough to Bowie that he was later to publish his songs under the rubric of "Bewlay Brothers Music."
Ziggy Stardust
The next album my brother was to bring home was probably Bowie's most popular and accessible, right up to the 1980s, and Let's Dance. This was The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars. It's a concept album about (again!) the end of the world, and the arrival of an alien musician, who ends up being killed by his own fans (one of Bowie's personal fears - that, or a plane crash). Again, mostly straight-ahead rockers, with simple instrumentation - Ronson's "metallic"-sounding electric guitar, and some saxophone work from Bowie.
The "second side" of the album, starting from "Lady Stardust," and ending with "Rock'n'Roll Suicide," is a true, coherent suite of songs, like the "second side" of the Beatles' Abbey Road, and stands along with it as a great achievement in emotional and musical range. Probably the best-known song here is "Suffragette City," which is a great up-tempo rocker, but lyrically, shows someone in great desperation. Perhaps it reflected Bowie's own state of mind, which climaxed with him announcing, at the end of the tour for this album, that he wasn't going to play live anymore.
Aladdin Sane
The creative juices kept flowing, however, and Bowie was to produce an album next that looked back on that tour, particularly the U.S. segment, and gave us Aladdin Sane. Everyone knows the cover of this one, featuring Bowie with closed eyes and the now-famous (cliched, almost?) "lightning-bolt" makeup.
It's full of impressionistic lyrics about (again) Andy Warhol, or cities like Detroit and Hollywood. "Panic In Detroit" stands out, due to its chugging (again) Bo Diddley rhythm, wailing backup singers, and lyrics about riots, abandoned cars and suicide.
There are also cover songs, of Bowie's own "The Prettiest Star," and a frenetic version of the Stones' "Let's Spend the Night Together."
An interesting addition to the arrangements was the presence of free-form pianist Mike Garson, who adds a striking contrast to the tight rhythms of the title track, and a beautiful, flowing, dreamlike accompaniment to the final track, "Lady Grinning Soul."
The most well-known track, though is "The Jean Genie," apparently a song about Iggy Pop. I recall seeing David Bowie being interviewed on TV, as he arrived in Canada on tour. I remember well his modesty and graciousness for those few minutes, and it's stuck with me ever since. Then, they played something I'd never seen before - the music video for "The Jean Genie."
Pin Ups
The last album Bowie was to do with "The Spiders From Mars" was Pin Ups, which my buddies derisively referred to as his "contractual obligation album." This was true in a sense, as Bowie was fulfilling his final obligations to the mismanaged MainMan organization which had represented him for some years. But it doesn't mean the album didn't rock like hell; it was blazing covers of some songs that Bowie had heard in London clubs in his teens. The likes of The Who, The Pretty Things, The Kinks, and others were represented.
The standout for me was a cover of "See Emily Play," the early Pink Floyd tune. It got me curious to hear more of their early stuff, and I've been a huge Syd Barrett fan ever since. I even borrowed Bowie's term "Syd's Pink Floyd" to distinguish between pre- and post-Barrett when talking about the Floyd.
Diamond Dogs
The next album he was to do was Diamond Dogs, which had a kind of "post-apocalyptic" theme, and borrowed some concepts from Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four, including a song with that actual title. The musicians are kind of "Bowie and backup," including longtime collaborator Herbie Flowers on bass, who had been on Space Oddity, as well as the Bowie-produced/Ronson-arranged 1972 Lou Reed classic, Transformer.
There is lots of good rock music on this album also, including the driving "1984," and the most well-known track, "Rebel Rebel," which features one of the great rock guitar riffs, and to my mind, is Bowie's answer to the Stones' "Satisfaction." Seriously, listen to them side by side sometime!
David Live
Bowie was to tour again after Diamond Dogs, and this is when he created his next persona, "The Thin White Duke," who wore zoot suits and fedoras, and where Bowie completely changed his musical style. This was "blue-eyed soul," which obliged him to change the sound of his voice, from the glam tenor of Ziggy Stardust to a rich, resonant baritone. I will admit that the album that came out of that tour, David Live, was a bit of a head-scratcher for me. It featured complete reworkings of his classic songs to suit the new "soul" sound, and I wasn't sure it all worked. I also thought his voice was very rough-sounding - as it turned out, this was the worst period in his life for drug problems, and that may have contributed to it.
Young Americans
The album that came out next was the formal introduction of this new persona, and was called Young Americans. This was all-soul, all the time, and featured his next hit, an early disco number, "Fame," co-written with album collaborator, John Lennon, also in the midst of drug (and marital) problems. This was the first album to feature guitarist Carlos Alomar, a bundle of energy who would be with Bowie for many years. It also included David Sanborn on saxophone, who would go on to many more collaborations and solo work, not to mention a young Luther Vandross.
The album also has a cover of Lennon's "Across the Universe," which, though much different from the Beatles version, holds its own as a more stripped-down, emotional reading.
When I hear some of these tracks now, I think I appreciate them more than I did at the time. My friends would say, "Why does he change his sound so often?" and I would reply, "Why not? He's looking for something new," but to be honest, I was feeling less enthusiastic as a fan myself.
It was around this time that Bowie took on his first major movie role, that of stranded alien (surprise!) Thomas Newton, in The Man Who Fell to Earth. I will talk about Bowie's acting career in another post, but scenes from this movie would appear on the covers of his next two albums...
Station to Station
Station to Station came out just as I was finishing high school, and there was a big hit from it on the radio, "Golden Years." My friends again dismissed it as a disco song, but I kind of liked the smooth, polished sound of it, and didn't consider it "disco" at all. I bought the album, and was impressed with the title track, with the "train" sounds at the beginning, and the changing tempi and time signatures (as well as some very offbeat lyrics). Having developed a liking for progressive rock, this was something I could get into! Some of the other tracks, like "Word on a Wing" or "Stay" were less enthralling, at the time.
The album grew on me through my post-secondary years, though, and I came to like it. Particularly outstanding is the final track, a passionate rendition of Dmitri Tiomkin's "Wild Is the Wind," that showcased Bowie's newfound soulful voice like never before.
In retrospect. Bowie was getting more sophisticated - but I wasn't. At that time, I was wondering whether I would feel enthusiastic enough to buy his next album. Well, life is full of surprises...
Low
I heard things about Bowie's next album that were intriguing: "He's taking a new direction." "He's got a new sound."
At a party I went to, things were winding down, and I crawled into a bed upstairs for the night. There was a radio in the room, and they announced a track off Bowie's new album. I didn't get the title - it sounded like some foreign language - but through my drowsiness, there came the most incredible piece of music I'd ever heard.
The next day, I raved to my friends about the song I'd heard, and as soon as I could, I went and bought the album. Another still from Man Who Fell on the cover, I noted, having seen the movie sometime before.
After the buzzsaw opening to the first track, "Speed of Life," I thought the songs weren't that different from before. There were synthesizers aplenty, which was a plus (I was, and still am, a huge fan of the sound of analogue synthesizers), but they were mostly uptempo, poppy tunes.
Then, I turned the LP over, and there was the song I'd heard: "Warszawa." From the opening drones of that piece, chills ran up and down my spine, and barely let up until the last track on the album. It was raw, haunting, despairing, chilling music, and subconsciously, I may have realized that it brought me back to those first "unstructured" songs on Space Oddity that had caught my attention years before.
The "lyrics" in two songs on the second side ("Warszawa" and "Subterraneans") were also a source of puzzlement. I sure couldn't make them out. As it turns out, they were merely meaningless syllables that Bowie sang as melodies. They are very effective, in any case, in adding another layer to the mysterious and enigmatic music.
I also noticed that the main collaborator on the album was someone I had been admiring for a while, Brian Eno. I had some of his albums at that time, Here Come the Warm Jets, Discreet Music and Another Green World, and had been fascinated with the things he did with music. Not only did he write incredibly clever and weird lyrics, he also did things with instrumentation and arrangements that were new and unique. So it was no surprise to me that he had helped Bowie achieve something new and brilliant.
This is my favourite David Bowie album, and one of my favourite albums ever. It still gives me chills.
Heroes
The next album to come out was also recorded during Bowie's "recovery" in Berlin. The striking cover was apparently (like that of Iggy Pop's The Idiot) loosely based on a painting he had seen in a Berlin art gallery.
Musically, at first, it seemed quite similar to Low, with faster, more mainstream tracks on the first side, and introspective, synth-laden instrumentals on the second. It again featured able assists from Brian Eno, and some of the (Side 2) tracks had a similar feel to those on Low. But this album ended with an uptempo piece, co-written with Eno and Carlos Alomar, "The Secret Life of Arabia." It was like Bowie was becoming more positive and hopeful, after the bleakness of the previous release. Mind you, there is still plenty of dark stuff here, like "Joe the Lion" and "Blackout."
The album also featured another personal (ahem) hero, guitarist Robert Fripp, a collaborator with Eno at least since Here Come the Warm Jets. His work on the title track is noteworthy for its keening, sustained notes, set atop Bowie's tight rhythms - in a way, invoking Mike Garson's work on Aladdin Sane.
And the Rest?
I will stop here.
I did get several of Bowie's later albums, including the third in the so-called "Berlin trilogy," Lodger, as well as Scary Monsters, Let's Dance, and others. Through the 1980s, though, my musical explorations turned more to classical music, and working in a record store enabled me to inexpensively purchase box sets of operas and symphonies that I felt more inclined to listen to at that time.
Then, CDs appeared, and I slowly started to replace my old, scratchy. pop- and click-laden LPs.
In 2000, there was a fire in my apartment, and many of my LPs (and some CDs) were damaged enough that I didn't keep them. Since then, I've been more selective about what music I buy, and since the advent of DVDs, I have collected more movies than music. What with cable TV and the internet, there are more options for entertainment now than I can get my head around, and collecting music is only something I do occasionally, when something really catches my ear. The last time I bought rock CDs in any number was during the grunge era!
I have heard some tracks from Bowie's last album, Blackstar, with the title track being particularly haunting, and will probably pick it up, once the frenzy for his albums dies down. (I was working in a record store at the time of Glenn Gould's passing, and you'd think, from the crowds that filled the place, that they weren't going to press any more of his albums, ever!)
I do have more to say about David Bowie, though, and in the next post, I'd like to talk (more briefly, I hope) about his film roles, seeing him live, and the David Bowie Is... exhibit. Stay tuned.
Sunday, 10 January 2016
Words We Don't Use Anymore Part II
Happy New Year! Thank you for coming back to my blog. I will try to post thoughts/events/pics as often as I see fit again this year, and hope you enjoy them.
I thought I'd start off another year the way I started the blog last March, with a word that I find charming or quaint, but that is not widely used. This time, the word is:
Nigh, literally "near," or "almost." With origins in Old English, this word is only used poetically nowadays, as the word "near" means virtually the same thing. but has come to have more versatility.
As an example of its poetic or lyrical sense, we still use the word whenever we sing the Christmas carol Away In a Manger: "...and stay by my cradle (or, side un) til morning is nigh," depending on which version you use.
As a kid, like many others, I used to sing this song in Sunday School, but would think, "Pssh! Silly writers! They mean "til morning is night - they've just left off the last letter!" Ah, the certainty of youth! Of course, "til morning is night" doesn't make any sense, since you're asking Jesus to stay with you through the night, not through the day. "Stay by my (whatever) til morning is near," is what it means; it just took many years (and lots of reading) for me to figure that out.
Well, nowadays, you might see the word as the answer in a crossword puzzle (which is what inspired me to write this post), but in popular usage, it's well-nigh obsolete (bazinga!).
I thought I'd start off another year the way I started the blog last March, with a word that I find charming or quaint, but that is not widely used. This time, the word is:
Nigh, literally "near," or "almost." With origins in Old English, this word is only used poetically nowadays, as the word "near" means virtually the same thing. but has come to have more versatility.
As an example of its poetic or lyrical sense, we still use the word whenever we sing the Christmas carol Away In a Manger: "...and stay by my cradle (or, side un) til morning is nigh," depending on which version you use.
As a kid, like many others, I used to sing this song in Sunday School, but would think, "Pssh! Silly writers! They mean "til morning is night - they've just left off the last letter!" Ah, the certainty of youth! Of course, "til morning is night" doesn't make any sense, since you're asking Jesus to stay with you through the night, not through the day. "Stay by my (whatever) til morning is near," is what it means; it just took many years (and lots of reading) for me to figure that out.
Well, nowadays, you might see the word as the answer in a crossword puzzle (which is what inspired me to write this post), but in popular usage, it's well-nigh obsolete (bazinga!).
Wednesday, 23 December 2015
My Fortnight With Shingles
During the first two weeks of December, I experienced a case of shingles.
When you hear about shingles, they're usually someplace on a person's torso, but the gods blessed me with a breakout on the left side of my face. Unlike what you hear, in my case, it wasn't painful - at least I was spared that - but it wasn't fun, and it sure wasn't pretty. I will treat you to some pictures of the progression later in this post; something to look forward to!
The Onset
Naturally, at first, I had no idea what was happening. The first symptoms began to show towards the last weeks of November; I felt aches and pains in the bones in the left side of my head, mostly around my jaw. My teeth in that area were quite sensitive, but I dismissed it as "cold weather" sensitivity. Later, I was to discover (thanks, internet!) that these were signs of neuralgia (literally "nerve pain"), a common symptom of the onset of the illness.
As you know if you've read this blog, I am a member of the Toronto Welsh Male Voice Choir, and on November 28, we held the first of three scheduled Christmas concerts. The concert went well, and I was planning to attend the customary choir afterglow at a local pub. On stepping outside after the show, though, I began to feel extremely tired. I was with another choir member, and we decided to get something to eat, then head home. I had also been noticing redness in the skin on the left side of my face, and asked if he noticed it. We both wondered what it could be - eczema, maybe? No, I had had a bad case of that as a child, and mostly remember the terrible itchiness that accompanied it, which, thankfully, wasn't happening here.
All the way home, I felt more and more fatigued, and was quite exhausted by the time I got in.
The next day, I noticed that the left side of my face was starting to swell up, and decided I'd better get to a doctor.
The First Week
Monday, I went to a local walk-in clinic, where the doctor looked at my face, and diagnosed me as having shingles. She assured me that it wasn't unusual for it not to be painful, so at least there was that. She prescribed two medications, Valacyclovir for the shingles, and Cephalexin, an antibiotic.
I was also sent to an ophthalmologist, since my left eye was quite red, and while I waited, I took the first dose of the medications (these were not cheap, by the way - the cost of both medications was nearly $200). The ophthalmologist found no issues with my vision, and off I went home
After I got home, it occurred to me that I should take a picture to document this experience (if anyone should doubt it), and did a bathroom selfie.
Just for contrast, here's a pic I had taken just a few days earlier and posted to Twitter to show my Movember 'stache, which I would shave off early, because my face was getting more and more swollen:
And, here I am on Monday afternoon:
Looking at this pic now, I can't believe I actually went out in public looking like that! Eurgh!
The doctor I saw at the walk-in clinic warned me that the symptoms could get worse before they got better, and boy, was that an understatement!
Shingles is essentially the chicken pox virus, lying dormant inside those who get chicken pox as a child, then showing up again as you get older. So, as with any virus, there are attendant symptoms such as fever, chills, weakness and fatigue. For most of Tuesday and Wednesday, I slept, either in my chair or in bed. I didn't have much of an appetite, either; I would take a few bites of something, and feel nauseous, then immediately flop down again, exhausted.
Also during this time, the area under my left eye got so badly swollen that it was easier just to close it and use my right eye if I wanted to see something.
As you see in the picture above, my upper left lip was also swollen up, and it got so bad that I couldn't open my mouth the whole way. Plus, the whole left jaw area eventually swelled up to near-tennis ball size. You can imagine how difficult this made eating and drinking, and as the week progressed, that area of my face became dry and encrusted, making things even harder.
All the quotidian things we take for granted had to be rethought. Shampooing in the shower wasn't possible, and I didn't dare shave my left upper lip for the whole two weeks; once the scabs receded, I had to keep the whiskers trimmed with scissors. Flossing? Forget it. Brushing? Just barely.
I didn't lose hope that the symptoms would go away soon, though. The choir had two more Xmas concerts to do, and I was determined to make the next one, the weekend of December 5. Unfortunately, the symptoms persisted, and - well, I was fooling myself, really; they weren't going anywhere, and neither was I.
As a precaution, on Monday, I had done some extra grocery shopping, and had enough to eat for that week, but by Saturday, I was running short. I was over the flu-like symptoms, and my appetite was returning, but now the outbreak on my face was starting to turn into reddish-black scabs, and I looked worse than ever! Fortunately, a very good friend, who lives nearby, was able to bring some groceries, and a box of surgical masks which I had requested, to my place on Saturday. I was over the contagious phase of the illness, so no issues with visitors, but as I mentioned, I looked like hell, and the masks would allow me to get outdoors without, at least, feeling too self-conscious. I made hot chocolate for my friend and I, and we had a nice chat.
I've been on my own for many years, and like to feel that I prefer it that way, but when you're completely alone like this, you realize how much you do miss other people. I sure was glad to have some company!
Well, by Sunday, I realized that I would need at least another week for things to clear up, and called work to say that I would need that much more time off.
The Second Week
On Monday, I went back to the walk-in clinic, just to see how things were progressing, from a professional's point of view. I felt better every day, though progress was slow, and was able to get out in public with a surgical mask on. The receptionist at the clinic (who must see sick people all the time) was quite shocked by my appearance, which made me glad I didn't try to go back to work, or to get out more than I did.
The doctor told me to finish off the antibiotic pills I had been prescribed the week before, and prescribed Bactroban, an antibiotic cream that I could apply to the scabs and surrounding areas, to ward off possible infections.
Here is what I looked like for that whole week:
 |
| You can understand why I wanted those surgical masks, right? |
I still had limited energy, and needed rest and recuperation more than anything. But my appetite was improving, and I could get the groceries I needed on my own now.
Early in the week, my regular GP's office called and suggested I make an appointment. The earliest they could take me was Friday (which was why I chose a walk-in clinic in the first place). By this time, a lot of the scabs had come off, though there were still plenty, and there was starting to be an itch on the clear areas. The doc prescribed a lotion to combat the itch, and suggested I put Vaseline on the scabs to soften them up and help them come off. This turned out to be the best suggestion of all, as that's just what was needed to clear things up over the next few days.
Sadly, I had to beg off the next (and final) Xmas concert that the choir was doing, that Saturday the 12th. I still didn't feel "presentable" enough, and was still easily tired.
I got a call from one of the guys that week, with a very generous offer of monetary assistance from some choir members for the time I had to take off work. I assured him that I have some savings that I could use to cover the lost wages, but was deeply moved by this gesture.
Also, I had rented an instrument from a music store to play for these concerts, and was unable to return it while I was ill. When I did get it back to them and explained my situation, they said they had already taken the next month's rent out of my credit card, but would refund the difference, in cash!
As I write this, I am still touched by the kindness and sympathy shown to me by friends and family, and strangers, during this difficult time.
Then, it was back to the ophthalmologist again, for follow-up. She found no problems with my vision, which made me feel more confident and happy than I had for a long time.
It's Not Over...
By the second weekend (12-13 December), all the scabs had come off my face, save for a small one near my eye, and I was able to go back to work on Tuesday. I put in full days the rest of the week, and was even able to enjoy the company Christmas party that Friday. Even between Tuesday and Friday, co-workers were remarking how much better I looked.
My appetite and energy increase every day, and I feel able to do all the things I used to, though I don't push myself. Happily, there are no vision or muscular problems as a result of this illness.
There is still a tiny bit of swelling and reddish skin on the left side of my face as of today, December 23. Part of my upper lip and some of my teeth on the left side are still numb, like a dentist's freezing. The downside is that the itching is more of a problem - actually, it's weird; the sensations range from itching to numbness to aches to tingling. It's sort of like when your leg falls asleep, and as the circulation comes back, you have these different sensations - only it's happening way more slowly than that.
I have trouble getting to sleep at nights, when there are no distractions, and my focus shifts to the itching in that area. I try to think of other things, and eventually do get to sleep, but it can be fitful. My eye is pretty much fully open, but still a little red, and alternates between being itchy and being sore. Thankfully, I still have lots of that lotion to relieve the itch, and am now reconciled to the fact that this is going to take its own time to fully heal.
Finally...
This was one of the loneliest periods of my life. I really appreciated the sympathy and encouragement from friends and family, but I felt so very isolated. I even felt despair at moments - which, thankfully, soon faded - that I hope I never feel again. I can't imagine how it must be for those with a chronic illness, or shut-ins, who truly can't get out, and may not see an end to their troubles.
Perhaps I, and anyone who reads this, can show a little more empathy towards people who are genuinely less fortunate, especially in this season.
And on that note, Merry Christmas - Feliz Navidad - Joyeux Noel - Buon Natale - Froehlich Weihnachten - to everyone. Thank you for reading this blog; I look forward to posting more in the new year.
Sunday, 15 November 2015
Psychology On the Street
November 14, 2015
On this chilly Saturday, seven volunteers (including myself) gathered at the Urbanspace Gallery at 401 Richmond St. W. to participate in a "psychogeographic" walk of some of the neighbouring streets.
This was the latest in a series of walks that had already taken place in New York City, Berlin and Mumbai, to measure ordinary peoples' emotions and reactions to the urban environment. You can see their website at psychologyonthestreet.com.
The study was being conducted by Dr. Collin Ellard and some students from Waterloo University. We were greeted by one of the students at the Gallery, and given electronic devices to wear. One was worn like a headband, and measured brain activity, like an EEG. It even measured our eye-blinks! The other was worn like a wristwatch, and measured things like pulse and body temperature.
These were to gauge autonomic responses.
We were also given an Android device, much like a smartphone, on which we were asked to record our conscious reactions to the places we looked at, by answering questions (on a 1-to-5 scale) like "How old is this area?", "How safe is this area?", "How much traffic is in this area?" etc.
Each place was chosen according to a few factors, like density, age, noise level, traffic, and so on.
Our first stop was at the intersection of Queen W. and Portland St., where we took in this view:
As with each stop, we were given one minute to study this area, then asked to answer the questions, as I mentioned above.
The next stop was this alley looking south to King St. W.:
Then, on to this view of condos along Stewart St., near Wellington:
Next was Clarence Square, at Spadina and Wellington, looking a little drab this time of year:
Our next stop was a parking garage near a couple of construction sites, on Peter St. south of Richmond, where I didn't get a picture...
...then it was back to Richmond & Spadina, where we were instructed to take a look west at the intersection:
We had done our tasks as instructed at each stop; by the time we got here, it was starting to get quite cold, and we were glad to be able to get back indoors.
Once back inside the Urbanspace Gallery, we were "debriefed" by our guide, and encouraged to give comments or ask questions. It had been a good learning experience for all of us.
It is to be hoped that the results of these studies will be shared with urban planners and developers, so that future urban spaces can be created in ever-growing, ever-changing cities - that take into account the positive (and negative) ways their citizens react to the place they live in.
For my part, I realized at one point that I don't really know this city that well, after all, and felt quite humbled. We passed by independent coffee shops, pubs, restaurants and stores that I'd never seen, or even heard of.
It made me realize how often, when I spend time walking around downtown, that I stick to major streets like King, Dundas, Queen, Bloor or Richmond, and not lesser-known streets that may well yield small rewards, like an undiscovered shop, or a breathtaking view of the skyline.
I still have much to learn about my city.
On this chilly Saturday, seven volunteers (including myself) gathered at the Urbanspace Gallery at 401 Richmond St. W. to participate in a "psychogeographic" walk of some of the neighbouring streets.
This was the latest in a series of walks that had already taken place in New York City, Berlin and Mumbai, to measure ordinary peoples' emotions and reactions to the urban environment. You can see their website at psychologyonthestreet.com.
The study was being conducted by Dr. Collin Ellard and some students from Waterloo University. We were greeted by one of the students at the Gallery, and given electronic devices to wear. One was worn like a headband, and measured brain activity, like an EEG. It even measured our eye-blinks! The other was worn like a wristwatch, and measured things like pulse and body temperature.
These were to gauge autonomic responses.
We were also given an Android device, much like a smartphone, on which we were asked to record our conscious reactions to the places we looked at, by answering questions (on a 1-to-5 scale) like "How old is this area?", "How safe is this area?", "How much traffic is in this area?" etc.
Each place was chosen according to a few factors, like density, age, noise level, traffic, and so on.
Our first stop was at the intersection of Queen W. and Portland St., where we took in this view:
As with each stop, we were given one minute to study this area, then asked to answer the questions, as I mentioned above.
The next stop was this alley looking south to King St. W.:
Then, on to this view of condos along Stewart St., near Wellington:
Next was Clarence Square, at Spadina and Wellington, looking a little drab this time of year:
Our next stop was a parking garage near a couple of construction sites, on Peter St. south of Richmond, where I didn't get a picture...
...then it was back to Richmond & Spadina, where we were instructed to take a look west at the intersection:
We had done our tasks as instructed at each stop; by the time we got here, it was starting to get quite cold, and we were glad to be able to get back indoors.
Once back inside the Urbanspace Gallery, we were "debriefed" by our guide, and encouraged to give comments or ask questions. It had been a good learning experience for all of us.
It is to be hoped that the results of these studies will be shared with urban planners and developers, so that future urban spaces can be created in ever-growing, ever-changing cities - that take into account the positive (and negative) ways their citizens react to the place they live in.
For my part, I realized at one point that I don't really know this city that well, after all, and felt quite humbled. We passed by independent coffee shops, pubs, restaurants and stores that I'd never seen, or even heard of.
It made me realize how often, when I spend time walking around downtown, that I stick to major streets like King, Dundas, Queen, Bloor or Richmond, and not lesser-known streets that may well yield small rewards, like an undiscovered shop, or a breathtaking view of the skyline.
I still have much to learn about my city.
Sunday, 1 November 2015
Some Fall Colours In Toronto
Fall has arrived (did you set your clock back last night?), and with it comes an explosion of colour as our deciduous trees shed their leaves for the coming winter.
In downtown Toronto, there aren't too many places where you can get the most spectacular colours; for that, you need to go to the Rouge Valley, or right out of town altogether. As time goes by so quickly these days, it seems like there are only a few days of colourful leaves in the city, then whoomph! they're all on the ground.
Nevertheless, there are some amazing shows to be had south of Bloor St., if you slow down and look closely. There don't have to be blazing oranges or reds in order to catch your eye.
Let me show you what I mean:
First, looking south from the Prince Edward Viaduct over Rosedale Valley Road, there are some nice varieties of colour, from green to a deep orange:
 |
| Pix taken with smartphone, but colours came out quite nicely! |
And farther along in the same valley, more colours. I was particularly taken with the leaves at right just nicely turning from green to yellow, and the reddish-pink of the ones in the centre:
Right near Castle Frank subway station is this brilliantly yellow maple tree...
And, even though I was essentially shooting blind through the "Luminous Veil" over the Don Valley, I still got a good shot of some great orange/rust/red colours along Bayview Ave., south of Bloor:
Finally, in Withrow Park, a couple of more maples going from yellow to orange:
You can see how quickly the leaves are falling here, so, yes, there is just a small window of time available to see these things, and to get a few snaps.
Like I said, Algonquin Park it ain't, but if you "go placidly amid the noise and haste," and just simply stop and take a look around, you will often see beautiful things right in front of you.
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