Classic Rock Crate Digger is a column I write for the Rhapsody Blog.
For a long time, the Classic Rock Crate Digger totally loathed David Bowie, particularly his golden period, 1970 to ’77. On so many of his so-called classic albums (Ziggy, Diamond Dogs, Heroes, et al.), he sounds like a glam-rock/New Wave charlatan constantly nicking tricks from far superior artists, including a few personal heroes: Scott Walker, Brian Eno and the perennially overlooked Peter Hammill. If that wasn’t enough, too many of his fans seem to possess a blind devotion that is more than a little annoying. I swear, at least 75% of the fanatics that I’ve met regard the guy as some kind of post-modern ge
nius, the be-all and end-all of everything that’s avant garde. Meanwhile, so few of these same people have ever even heard, say, Hammill’s Chameleon in the Shadow of Night or Walker’s Scott 4.
Then something happened. I watched the incredible documentary Scott Walker: 30 Century Man, and it changed my mind. Sort of.
Bowie, in addition to serving as executive producer, is one of the primary interviewees, and the guy really shines. First off, he doesn’t take himself seriously at all (no post-modern baloney dripping from his trap). What we’ve learned from Velvet Goldmine notwithstanding, he’s a rock ‘n’ roll fan boy, just like you and me and the little snot down the street snorting crushed Ritalin and cranking the White Stripes. That’s cool. More importantly, Bowie acknowledges the debt he owes the artists who have inspired him through the years. He wants his fans to track down all the cool underground stuff he digs.
Now, I still find his music dull as river rock, and I’ll explain why: in order to sell his art-rock vision to the mainstream, he had to cleanse his influences of their most volatile, and interesting, idiosyncrasies — not pop enough for the masses, apparently. Yet those are the things I’m most into — the weird stuff. Oh well. The important thing is that I no longer hate David Bowie. In fact, having a cocktail with him and talking jams sounds like it would be a total blast. Maybe Geraldo can come, too.
A lot of the artists Bowie has championed over the years (Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, T. Rex) are very nearly as famous as he is, nowadays. Nevertheless, I thought it would be cool to give a brief rundown of some of the musicians and records that inspired the, uh, Thin White Duke (always hated that phrase).
Scott Walker
Scott, Scott 2, Scott 3 and Scott 4
At the dawn of his career Bowie made some oddball symphonic pop (check out The Deram Anthology 1966-1968), but it was Scott Walker who defined the avant-pop crooner in the late 1960s. His first four studio albums are stone-cold brilliant and audacious. Bowie obviously worshiped all four.
The Stooges
Fun House
The Stooges are now in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, so they’re no longer outsiders. But if you want to understand why young Bowie ditched whimsical acoustica for heavy jammers, then simply crank this beast 100 times in a row (if you haven’t already). It will sound like violent slop at first, but eventually the snarling, rhythmic genius of the guitar, bass and drums will reveal itself. Bowie dug it so much he decided to become Iggy’s babysitter for a few years.
Peter Hammill
Chameleon in the Shadow of Night
Though Bowie has acknowledged Peter Hammill’s influence, it hasn’t translated into widespread recognition for the founder of Van Der Graaf Generator. Hammill’s music is just too difficult and sci-fi driven, I think. Apparently, Chameleon in the Shadow of Night is the record that inspired Bowie to make his own difficult and sci-fi influenced album, 1974’s Diamond Dogs. It definitely sounds like it. If there’s just one record on this list the Classic Rock Crate Digger really wants you to dig into, it’s this tangled and dense masterwork.
The Velvet Underground
Loaded
Lou Reed = the David Bowie of the 1960s, right?
Klaus Nomi
Bowie wasn’t necessarily influenced by Klaus Nomi’s music. He simply thought the sci-fi opera weirdo, who was the toast of New York’s New Wave/disco underground in the late 1970s, would make an awesome backup singer for his appearance on Saturday Night Live. It’s a move that further reinforced the view that throughout the ’70s Bowie incessantly watched the underground for trends. He was always looking for some obscure fruit to pick and feed to mainstream pop audiences.
T. Rex
A Beard of Stars / T. Rex
Both Marc Bolan and David Bowie started off as mod dandies who then went into psych-folk and then on to riff-heavy glam. The only difference is that Bolan was always the first to shape-shift. Bowie then followed his lead.
Roxy Music
Country Life
Some time after Bowie grew tired of that silly red wig he turned chic. During his Young Americans phase (1975) he was all about Italian couture and funky blue-eyed soul-infused art pop. That was him playing the Bryan Ferry/Roxy Music card.
Alice Cooper
Easy Action
In 2006 I had the honor of interviewing Dennis Dunaway, bassist and composer for the original Alice Cooper band. He told me an interesting story. Dunaway once ran into a member of David Bowie’s camp, who revealed to him that Alice Cooper’s look from the late 1960s (gargantuan platforms and skin-tight space suits) was a big influence on Ziggy’s band, the Spiders From Mars. I’ll go a step further and say Alice, as exemplified on 1970’s Easy Action, invented the Ziggy concept, that of the androgynous rocker in makeup calling out society through satirical freak-rock, performance art and media-savvy shenanigans. Interesting note: Easy Action contains a song titled “Return of the Spiders,” and the Coop’s first garage-rock group was actually called the Spiders. Coincidences?
The Walker Brothers
Nite Flights
Actually, I have no idea if Bowie lifted any ideas from Nite Flights; I just think it’s one of the best proto-New Wave records ever made. Lots of pop critics cite Low and Heroes (also mid-’70s Roxy Music) as ground zero for the new romantics (Ultravox, O.M.D., Soft Cell, Human League, etc). But the movement’s coolest precursors are the first four tunes on this gem. Listen to “The Electrician” RIGHT NOW.
Brian Eno
Another Green World
Speaking of Low and Heroes, listen to Eno’s Another Green World, and you’ll understand why Bowie asked him to produce those two records.
Pink Floyd
First Three Singles
Nearly every Brit who has ever played the psychedelic-joker role stole his/her shtick from Syd Barrett, Bowie included. But here’s the thing: The Piper at the Gates of Dawn and Barrett’s original two solo efforts, The Madcap Laughs and Barrett, are the albums usually hauled out when proving the man’s genius. While all three are great, it’s the songs comprising Floyd’s first three singles that, to me, truly nail his singular talents. Those are “Arnold Layne,” “Candy and a Currant Bun,” “See Emily Play,” “The Scarecrow,” “Apples and Oranges,” and the Richard Write composition “Paintbox.”
Jobriath
Jobriath / Creatures of the Street
Sadly, Rhapsody doesn’t offer Jobriath’s two magnificent albums: his self-titled debut from 1973 and Creatures of the Street, released in ’74. Hopefully, these will be made available to us someday, because the openly gay glam rocker from Philadelphia was like Ziggy’s long-lost twin. Jobriath was doing everything Bowie was doing, only nobody knew he even existed. Sad.
Honorable Mention: The Cockettes!
