Video Of The Week: David Bowie

Look, I admit I'm not the biggest David Bowie fan out there. He has two albums I can listen to through-and-through without skipping any songs: Outside (1995) and Earthling (1997).

From his other songs, say if I go by the two-disc Best Of Bowie release from 2002, there are songs I like: Space Oddity, The Man Who Sold The World, Suffragette City, All The Young Dudes, Rebel Rebel, Young Americans, and Heroes.

As a teen, I also liked Changes, Ziggy Stardust, and Under Pressure, but they were overplayed (by others, but myself as well), so I tend to skip them nowadays.

But I could never listen to The Jean Genie, Fame, Let's Dance and Jump They Say. Not seriously, anyway. I did like his band Tin Machine, however.

Anyhow, all that's to say his passing didn't move me as much as pretty much all of my Facebook friends, though I recognize the man has a strong legacy, and was influential particularly among those who struggled with issues of self. And that's huge.

For me, however, the passing of Lemmy Kilmister of Hawkwind and Motörhead was a much bigger blow. Both died of cancer shortly after their birthdays, Lemmy four days after his 70th, Bowie two days after his 69th... if he died at all.

Sure, his Blackstar record came out on his birthday, and would have made a terrific parting gift; then again, a lead single and video called Lazarus leads a man to thoughts like "well, if Chuck D can doubt of Tupac Shakur's death after his first postmortem album was called Makaveli"...

Time will tell.

In the meantime, here's the video, directed by Johan Renck, who usually specializes in "pure pop" with a resume that reads collaborations with Madonna (Hung Up and Nothing Really Matters), Kylie Minogue (Love At First Sight), All Saints (Black Coffee), Robbie Williams (Tripping and Lady Madonna), Beyoncé (Me Myself and I) and Lana Del Rey (Blue Velvet), among others:



It's a bit dark, more in line with the director's work on TV series such as Breaking Bad and The Walking Dead...

Video of The Week: Arcade Fire (With David Bowie)

Well, it's 9/9/9PM...

In this day and age, you'd think Arcade Fire might have had a hard time keeping a lid on its activities, but no. First they stopped dozens of weekend online leaks of their new single Reflektor, then had David Bowie refrain from confirming that he is, in fact, the man providing background vocals (he is, he confirmed it past 9 on his Facebook page) and released all their singles at 9, precisely the same time they were set to hit the stage at Salsathèque.

And now we learn they've been more than active on multiple fronts: their album is still hush-hush, but in addition to this week's feature directed by esteemed photographer (U2's The Joshua Tree album cover, videographer (many by U2 and Depeche Mode, Nirvana's terrific Heart-Shaped Box) and filmmaker (the Joy Division biopic Control) Anton Corbijn, which I'll post right here:



There is also an online/phone app/documentary/art installation directed by Vincent Morisset and developped by Google (thus, it works best using Chrome and Android) which, when watching while having both the phone and a webcam on, produces weird effects inside the video (more information at https://www.justareflektor.com/). It was shot in Haiti.

About David Bowie

Seen here auditioning for Axl Rose's part in the Welcome To The Jungle video

David Bowie turns 66 today, and the Great White Duke has graced us with his first single in 10 years while he was at it.

Many of my friends gush over Bowie as if he were the greatest musician who ever lived when, really, I just don't get it.

When his first record went unnoticed, he looked to cop Marc Bolan and T-Rex's style, following the glam-rock path Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, and Gary Glitter (then known as Paul Monday) had laid out, and emerged with his Space Oddity/Ziggy Stardust period, which he is still mostly known for. That was from 1969 to 1972.

In comparison, Iggy Pop had spearheaded/inspired the punk movement a few years prior with The Stooges (1966) and his most-known solo hit has become Lust For Life (1977); Lou Reed had re-written the books on pop, rock, jazz, and psychedelic music with The Velvet Underground, and while his biggest solo hit is Walk On The Wild Side (1972), two of his masterpieces came later, Berlin in 1973, and Metal Machine Music in 1975; Bolan had the decency to die a year before I was born.

In 1969 alone (the year Space Oddity - an awesome song, by the way, but not all songs on the record match it by any stretch of the imagination - was released, a literal ton of amazing music that was at least as good as Bowie's was released. And by ''literal ton'', I mean stick all these records on a scale and weigh them, because that's a lot vinyl: the Rolling Stones' Let It Bleed, Led Zeppelin's first two, Dusty Springfield's In Memphis, The Beatles' soundtrack to Yellow Submarine, Miles Davis' Filles De Kilimanjaro (and to a lesser extent In A Silent Way), CCR's Bayou Country and Green River (as well as Willy And The Poor Boys), Moby Grape's 69 and Truly Fine Citizen, The Temptations' classic Cloud Nine (featuring I Heard It Through The Grapevine) (and to a lesser extent Puzzle People and their duets record with The Supremes), Jefferson Airplane's Bless Its Pointed Little Head (with Somebody To Love) and Volunteers.

MC5's Kick Out The Jams, Genesis' From Genesis To Revelation, Cream's last hurrah Goodbye, The Velvet Underground's eponymous record, Bob Dylan's Nashville Skyline, Al Green's Green Is Blues, Frank Sinatra's My Way and A Man Alone, Leonard Cohen's Songs From A Room, Sly & The Family Stone's Stand!, Neil Young & Crazy Horse's Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, The Who's rock opera Tommy (which undoubtedly inspired the Ziggy thing).

Captain Beefheart's Trout Mask Replica, Deep Purple's eponymous album, The Doors' underrated The Soft Parade, Stevie Wonder's My Cherie Amour, Blind Faith's self-titled record.

Santana's first, King Crimson's In the Court Of The Crimson King, the debut from The Jackson 5, the first record from Crosby, Stills & Nash, as well as decent records by Aretha Franklin, Johnny Cash, Frank Zappa and the Mothers Of Invention (two!), Marvin Gaye, Joe Cocker (two: With A Little Help From My Friends and Joe Cocker!), George Harrison, John Lennon (two!), T-Rex, Neil Diamond, Diana Ross & The Supremes (two, plus the Temptations collaboration), Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, Elton John.

Otis Redding, The Grateful Dead, Johnny Winter, Jeff Beck, Yes, Pink Floyd (two), The Byrds (three!), Jethro Tull, The Stooges, Janis Joplin, Laura Nyro, The Hollies, The Dubliners, Merle Haggard, Jimmy Cliff, and others by the likes of Fleetwood Mac (two), Three Dog Night (two), The Beach Boys, The Monkeys (two), The Isley Brothers, The Moody Blues (two), Alice Cooper, Tom Jones, Cher, Procol Harum, Canned Heat, Tim Buckley (two), Steve Miller Band (two), The Guess Who, Spirit, Free, Rod Stewart, Humble Pie, Mott The Hoople, Steppenwolf (two).

John Mayall, Chuck Berry, Ornette Coleman, Roy Harper, Howlin' Wolf and Grand Funk Railroad, and historical stand-alone singles such as James Brown's Say It Loud (I'm Black And I'm Proud!). 

Oh, and a record called Abbey Road by The Beatles that forever changed how people take pictures of one another when crossing a street.

That's 20, maybe 25 more iconic acts than Bowie, in one year's release. Should I do the same for each year he released anything? Each decade?

I mean, shit, Patti Smith, R.E.M., U2, The Cure, Guns N' Roses, Public Enemy, Michael Jackson, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Nine Inch Nails, Eric Clapton and many more have changed music and influenced it a lot more than Bowie has.

Metallica, Snoop Dogg, Garth Brooks and the like have all had far greater crossover success.

Oh, so Bowie has adapted his style to the changing times, borrowing here and there to remain ''current''? Great. That puts him in the same category as Madonna and Britney Spears, as a pop princess who hires talent rather than inspire it. But Madonna at least ran a label at some point. And Britney ran... well, she ran amok and shaved her fucking head off. I'm not even sure Bowie ever ran an intersection, unless it was to dance with Mick Jagger in it.

Bottom line: how can someone who has never released any of the year's 10 best records or songs always come up as an icon when people talk about pop/rock music?

Full disclosure: There are two records of his I can listen to start-to-finish, perhaps even back-to-back, and they are Outside and Earthling.

Suffragette City

Fuck. I can''t get this song out of my head. It's been at me since I woke up. I hate David Bowie.

As a matter of fact, not only do I hate Bowie in general (and out of principle), but this song is among his worst in my opinion. He released it a gazillion times, first on the Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars record (1972), then  twice as b-sides (April 1972, as the b-side of the Starman single, and February 1975 as the b-side of Young Americans), then as an actual single by itself in 1976 which, of course, didn't chart. Because it sucks. But that didn't stop him from adding it on no less than 7 compilation albums and 6 live albums.

The worst part, for me, is that the lyrics mean absolutely nothing and go nowhere:

Hey man, oh leave me alone you know
Hey man, oh Henry, get off the phone, I gotta
Hey man, I gotta straighten my face
This mellow thighed chick just put my spine out of place

Hey man, my schooldays insane
Hey man, my work's down the drain
Hey man, well she's a total blam-blam
She said she had to squeeze it but she... then she...

Oh don't lean on me man, cause you can't afford the ticket
I'm back from Suffragette City
Oh don't lean on me man
Cause you ain't got time to check it
You know my Suffragette City
Is outta sight...she's all right

First off, when you need to put someone's name in a song, usually, it's because you lack the inspiration to make it more universal and need to use a few syllables. It cheeses up any song, and names from the 1950s just cheapen the deal even more. Also, rhyming ''alone'' with ''phone''? Genius. That's probably why it has been done a gazillion times, including a million by Bowie himself.

Now, he speaks of a woman, a ''mellow-thighed chick''; actually, he stops talking about her altogether 'cause she conjures up images of his school days, which were apparently ''insane'', but as soon as his work goes ''down the drain'', he remembers ''she's a total blam-blam''... whatever the fuck that means. But it's not like you're going to find out, because although ''she said she had to squeeze'' (again, whatever the fuck that means, especially since her thighs are ''mellow''), he ends that verse with an open ''then she...'' and never finishes.

Dude, Mr. Bowie, Sir: if you're going to put time and effort into writing a song to share a story about a girl, please have the decency to tell us something, anything. You can't just say you want to be heard and then say nothing. It's a waste of your time, but - more importantly - a waste of ours.

And that's saying nothing of the 50s-rock-and-roll, Little Richard-stealing piano riff throughout the fucking song. If I want to hear a Queen sing Long Tall Sally, I'll put the original on, thank you very much.