Five Years

Five Years.
Five Years (The Old Grey Whistle Test, 1972).
Five Years (live, 1973).
Five Years (Dinah!, 1976).
Five Years (rehearsal, 1976).
Five Years (live, 1978).
Five Years (live, 2003).
Five Years (with Arcade Fire, 2005).

The cycle of the Earth (indeed, of the universe, if the truth had been known) was nearing its end and the human race had at last ceased to take itself seriously. Having inherited millennia of scientific and technological knowledge it used this knowledge to indulge in its richest fantasies…An earlier age would have seen the inhabitants of this world as ‘decadent’ or ‘amoral,’ to say the least. But even if these inhabitants were not conscious of the fact that they lived at the end of time some unconscious knowledge informed their attitudes and made them lose interest in ideals, creeds, philosophies and the conflicts to which such things gave rise.

Michael Moorcock, An Alien Heat, 1972.

Our planet’s stock of minerals and fossil fuels, for instance, is already sadly depleted, and it is only a question of time before it is totally exhausted. Once this occurs, that already tottering technological superstructure—the “technosphere”—that is relentlessly swallowing up our biosphere, will collapse like a house of cards, and the swarming human masses brought into being to sustain it, will in turn find themselves deprived of even this imperfect means of sustenance.

Edward “Teddy” Goldsmith, editorial, inaugural issue of The Ecologist, July 1970.

I don’t see much of a future for the human race. I think we’ll probably disappear in the next fifty years.

Goldsmith to Andy Beckett, 2005. (Goldsmith predeceased the human race last year.)

Of all of Bowie’s dystopic and apocalyptic songs (and we’ve many to go), “Five Years” is the most unsettling. The key’s in the details, what Bowie discloses and, more importantly, what he doesn’t—that is, why the world is going to end. It’s as though the planet has received a terminal prognosis and has to get its affairs in order. And Bowie also wisely keeps his perspective on the street, on the masses who, having gotten the news (the same news that “all the young dudes” are carrying, Bowie later said), despair, collapse, debase themselves.

Yet there’s a joy in the refrains of “five years!!” that ring out the song. It’s a final jubilee, a celebration that the miserable struggles of the human race are finally over. The singalong chorus, which Bowie withholds for over half the song, comes as a relief after the string of despairing verses after despairing bridges. All of it is anchored by Woody Woodmansey’s unchanging drum pattern* (Woodmansey said he tried to put “hopelessness into a drumbeat”) and Mick Ronson’s piano chords.

In “Five Years” Bowie tapped into a current of pessimism and resignation that would define 1970s Britain, in novels, films, music and even newscasts (like a 1976 episode of the BBC’s The Money Programme that predicted a 1980 Britain in which “capitalism is but a fond memory”). It wasn’t a solely British phenomenon, of course. US science fiction of the early ’70s was chock full of societal collapses, whether the Planet of the Apes movies or The Omega Man, or novels like Wilson Tucker’s Year of the Quiet Sun, in which time-travelers discover that 20 years is all it takes for America to fall into utter barbarism. An iconic image of the early 1970s is a man standing alone, holding a gun, in a litter-strewn, gutted and empty downtown street.

The millennial fear (hope?) that Western civilization was on the brink of collapse came from all corners, from disillusioned hippies and embattled Leftist sects, from population-boom Cassandras and anti-urbanists (like Robert Allen, an associate editor for The Ecologist who in July 1975 wrote admiringly of the Khmer Rouge, as they were cleansing the cities and taking Cambodian civilization back to nature—“they deserve our best wishes, our sympathy and our attention”), as well as those on the Right who regarded such a collapse as the inevitable end to an indulgent, weak society. Take a film like Dirty Harry, whose contemporary San Francisco setting—a cesspool of muggers, perverts and killers, and the weak government that enables them—already seems post-apocalyptic.

Plus time was running at a Benzedrine pace. It was quite imaginable that human civilization could end in five years, as it seemed as though an age already had expired during the preceding five. To some in 1972, 1967 looked like a lost childhood while 1957 seemed to have occurred on another planet. The future was coming, mercilessly and quickly, to dispatch the present.

The buspeople, and there were many of them,
were shockedandsurprised and amused and annoyed, but when the
word got around that the world was coming to an end at
lunchtime, they put their pride in their pockets with their bustickets and
madelove one with the other.

Roger McGough, “At Lunchtime–A Story of Love,” 1967.

For “Five Years,” along with the novels and films that had inspired earlier songs like “We Are Hungry Men” or “Oh! You Pretty Things,” Bowie drew from a 1967 Roger McGough poem, “At Lunchtime—A Story of Love.” (Bowie had recited it during his cabaret audition in 1968.) The poem’s set on a bus whose riders, learning the world will end at lunchtime, start having random sex. There’s a funny twist at the end, which I won’t spoil.

In “Five Years” the world also turns upside-down upon hearing the news—policemen kneel to priests, teenage girls try to kill children. Bowie’s narrator makes his way through the wrack covering the streets, trying to chronicle whatever he sees (“my brain hurt like a warehouse”), and only despairs when he remembers seeing a friend (or a former lover) in an ice-cream shop, a moment of insignificance now made unbearably poignant. He joins in the chorus with the rest of the crowd, and sings down the world.

As with other Ziggy Stardust tracks, Bowie uses American slang (“news guy” and “TV” rather than “telly”) in the lyric. Even the clunky phrases (“all the fat skinny people” etc.) work, as they read as the discombobulated thoughts of an overwhelmed kid. Another Ziggy staple is the song’s diatonic chord progression, with G often set against E minor (James Perone pegs it as the “Heart and Soul” chord progression (I-vi-ii-V), the “harmonic core” of the 1950s.)

Bowie cut his vocal track in two takes—the first for the verses and bridges, the second for the chorus—because Ken Scott had to reset the sound levels for the throat-tearing chorus. Ronson mainly keeps to piano, while his scoring (a cello-heavy string section) for the track is a typically fine arrangement.

Recorded 8-15 November 1971. A version was cut for the BBC in January 1972,  while the Old Grey Whistle Test TV performance is from 8 February. Featured on Bowie’s 1972-3, 1976 and 1978 tours, along with a stunning performance on the Dinah Shore Show on 3 January 1976. Revived for Bowie’s 2003 tour, while the Arcade Fire duet is from “Fashion Rocks” (if ever an audience deserved an apocalyptic death-curse of a song, it was that one) on 8 September 2005.

Top: Miner’s strike rally in Trafalgar Square, 6 February 1972 (University of Warwick Library).

* Sheet music says 3/4, other sources (the producer Pip Williams) say it’s in 6/8.

Much credit is owed to Andy Beckett’s essential ’70s history When The Lights Went Out, which will be an ongoing reference for this blog.

13 Responses to Five Years

  1. Gnomemansland says:

    Always felt that Five Years owed something to Eliot’s Waste Land in particular the section….

    Unreal City,
    Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
    A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
    I had not thought death had undone so many.
    Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
    And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
    Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
    To where St Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
    With a dead sound on the final stock of nine.
    There I saw one I knew, and stopped him crying: ‘Stetson!
    You, who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
    That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
    Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
    Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
    Oh keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men,
    Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again!
    You! hypocrite lecteur!-mon semblable,-mon frere!”

  2. spoonfed says:

    This remix/reinterpretation of little snippets from Ziggy is worth a spin…

  3. Stolen Guitar says:

    Five years, that’s all we’ve got…until the Pistols come along and give everyone a kick up the arse! Perhaps there is something to be said for Bowie’s much lauded prescience!

    That Whistle Test performance…put it into the relevant context and have a look at the other bands and artists who appeared on the show at that time. Bowie really did look as though he’d just landed from somewhere else; a place where flared denim was unknown and facial hair was prohibited by law (Trevor’s monumental sideburns excepted!). I wanted to go to this place so badly in 1972! This is what pop stars should look like.

  4. Maj says:

    I guess Five Years is my favourite song on Ziggy. There’s just something about it…maybe because it gets a bit overlooked (outside the Bowie fandom bubble), maybe because it creates some powerful images. Maybe because some of the lyrics are the best Bowie’s ever written (not particularly elegantly but definitely in a very effective way). “It was cold and it rained, so I felt like an actor” is a great line. You could write a whole novel around that line alone.
    “I never thought I’d need so many people” – ditto.
    And the drum pattern…once you hear it, you’ll never forget it.

    The song is simply a masterpiece.

  5. Mark M. says:

    this song is mostly I vi ii IV rather than the more common progression mentioned in the article. It only goes to the V chord once. The IV is more tentative and ambiguous sounding and provides the opening for the descending piano line throughout the song as it comes back around to the I chord.

  6. afterall says:

    A little after the fact – but just been listening to this

    • col1234 says:

      ah, you found it! yes, i’ve referenced this in the revision.

      • afterall says:

        One of those curious scenarios – was in a record shop and saw an LP by Mark Almond – with a K – which was intriguing and led me by way of web searches to Gilbert Street – a proto Five Years if ever there was one. All the best for the new year….

  7. billter says:

    Newton looked down at him. “Do you think there’ll be a war?”

    [Bryce] held the cigarette speculatively, then flipped it into the lake. It floated. “Aren’t there three wars going on now? Or four?”

    “Three. I mean a war with big weapons. There are nine nations with hydrogen weapons; at least twelve with bacteriological ones. Do you think they’ll be used?”

    Bryce took a larger sip of gin. “Probably. Sure. I don’t know why it hasn’t happened yet. I don’t know why we haven’t drunk ourselves to death yet. Or loved ourselves to death.” The Vehicle was across the lake from them, but could not be seen for the trees. Bryce waved his glass in its direction and said, “Is that going to be a weapon? If it is, who needs it?”

    “It’s not a weapon. Not really.” Newton must be drunk. “I won’t tell you what it is.” And then, “After how long?”

    “After how long what?” He felt high, too. Fine. It was a lovely afternoon to be high. It had been a long time.

    “Until the big war begins? The one that will ruin everything.”

    “Why not ruin everything?” He tossed off his drink, reached over to the basket for the bottle. “Everything may need ruining.” As he took the bottle he looked up at Newton, but could not see his face because the sun was behind him. “Are you from Mars?”

    “No. Would you say ten years? I was taught it would be ten years at least.”

    “Who teaches things like that?” He poured himself a glassful. “I’d say five years.”

    –Walter Tevis, “The Man Who Fell to Earth”

  8. leonoutside says:

    Milquetoast- great word! A new one on me!

  9. […] all things with regard to this blog, to Chris O’Leary, who pointed this out in his pitch-perfect “Five Years” post on Pushing Ahead Of The Dame.) Like another fellow who we’ll discuss in a moment, McGough […]

  10. ric says:

    ice cream – Little Bombardier, Karma Man, Five Years – are there any more mentions in the canon? Three seems already quite a lot, (and that’s not counting (I) Scream Like a Baby).

  11. […] makes the plausible observation that “Soul Love” may well have been spun out of “Five Years“:      Soul love: the priest that tastes the word and      Told of love: and how my God […]

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