A Press Bibliography, 1960-1970

March 23, 2015

David Bowie, 1965 image

There was no room in the book for this (bibliography was already rather enormous) but I thought it necessary to credit these pieces somewhere.

So here’s the front line of Bowie reporting. So many impressions, quotes, descriptions, etc. that make up much of any Bowie biography or critical study are owed to the work of ill-paid music journalists, who went to the shows and backstage, who talked to Bowie, his managers and his labels. Collectively these articles offer an invaluable resource: the eyes, ears and thoughts of Bowie’s contemporaries, untainted by revision. And it’s important to note that many of these writers were women—Penny Valentine, Lisa Robinson, Sheila More, Mary Harron, Ellen Willis, Kate Simpson, Lillian Roxon and more.

Below is a list of articles I found in my research (1971-1976 are on another page). I read the majority of them, but some I know only via references in other books and compilations. Kevin Cann’s essential Any Day Now is an enormous reference for documenting and sometimes reprinting 1960-1974 articles. Bowie Wonderworld has a decent number reprinted, as do (starting in 1972) Ziggy Stardust Companion and (starting in 1974) Golden Years.

If you know of any other contemporary Bowie articles not found in these lists, let me know and I’ll add them.

1960

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“David (13) Leads Sport Revolution,” Bromley & Kentish Times, 11 November 1960.

1962

“Nearly 4,000 at School Fete,” Bromley & Kentish Times, 22 June 1962.

1963

“Konrads to Cut a Disc,” Bromley & Kentish Times, 23 August 1963.
“A.C.B.,” “West Wickham Strikes Blow for the ‘Pops,” unknown paper, ca. 25 October 1963.

1964
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“Bloom Goes Into Pop,” Evening News, 4 June 1964.
“Liza Jane (review),” Bromley Times, 5 June 1964.
“Liza Jane (review), New Musical Express, 5 June 1964.
Thomas, Leslie, Evening News (column on DB and the King Bees), 5 June 1964.
Nightingale, Anne, “Liza Jane” (review), Evening Argus, 17 June 1964.
“D. Jones and Co,” Record Mirror, 20 June 1964.
Chatham Standard (article on Bowie joining Manish Boys), 18 August 1964.
Beat 64 (diary item on Bowie), September 1964.
“Hair Abounds!,” Beat 64, October 1964.
Beat 64, (article on Bowie and Manish Boys), November 1964.
Thomas, Leslie, “For Those Beyond the Fringe,” Evening News, 2 November 1964.
Chatham Standard (interview with Manish Boys’ Paul Rodriguez), 15 December 1964.

1965

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“Row Over Davie’s Hair,” Daily Mirror, 3 March 1965.
“All Set! As Davy Jones Has a Trim and a Set,” Evening News and Star, 8 March 1965.
“Gadzooks! It’s All Happening,” Radio Times, 8 March 1965.
“Home Grown (“I Pity the Fool” review),” Chatham Standard, March 1965.
Kent Messenger (article on breakup of Manish Boys), 21 May 1965.
“Bit Much,” Bowie letter to Melody Maker, 10 July 1965.
“Davie…,” photo caption (p: Roy Carson), Record Mirror, 14 August 1965.
“Davie Changes His Hairstyle and His Group,” Kentish Times, 20 August 1965.
“Thanet Group Should Reach Top 30,” Kent Messenger, ca. 20 August 1965.
“’You’ve Got a Habit of Leaving’ (review),” Record Mirror, 11 September 1965.
Fabulous (fashion photo shoot & caption), 2 October 1965.
Boyfriend, (fashion photo shoot), October 1965.

1966

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“Can’t Help Thinking About Me (review),” Record Retailer, 6 January 1966.
“Can’t Help Thinking About Me (review), NME, 14 January 1966.
“Pop Star Changes His Image,” Kentish Times, 14 January 1966.
“Hey Presto—There’s a New Name From Davie Jones’ Locker,” Music Echo, 22 January 1966.
Kentish Times (article on Bowie and Ralph Norton), 28 January 1966.
King, Jonathan, “Bowie’s Record Does Not Deserve to Die,” Music Echo, 13 February 1966.
“A Message to London from Dave,” Melody Maker, 26 February 1966.
“Pop Group’s Hopes Dashed,” (Phil Lancaster interview on Lower Third’s breakup), Walthamstow Independent, 11 March 1966.
Springfield, Dusty, “’Do Anything You Say’ (review),” Melody Maker, 2 April 1966.
Fabulous (Bowie mention), 16 April 1966.
“Crowning Moment” (article on Bowie at the Bromley May Queens), 6 May 1966.
“Big L Disc Night,” Kent Messenger, 26 August 1966.
“’Rubber Band’ (review),” Disc & Music Echo, 2 December 1966.
“Are These the ’67 Chartbusters?” Disc & Music Echo, 31 December 1966.

1967

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“’The Laughing Gnome’ (review),” NME, 15 April 1967.
David Bowie (LP review),” Record Retailer, 3 June 1967.
“Hear David Bowie—He’s Something New,” Disc & Music Echo, 10 June 1967.
David Bowie (LP review),” NME, 24 June 1967.
Jackie, 8 July 1967.
“Love You Till Tuesday (review),” Record Retailer, 15 July 1967.
Jones, Peter, “Love You Till Tuesday (review),” Record Mirror, July 1967.
Valentine, Penny, “Love You Till Tuesday (review),” Disc, July 1967.
Welch, Chris, “Blind Date With Syd Barrett (inc. ‘Love You Till Tuesday’ review),” Melody Maker, 22 July 1967.
Jackie (item on DB), 22 July 1967.
Osbourne, Christine, “On Our Wavelength,” Fabulous 208, 29 July 1967.
“Love You Till Tuesday (review),” Cashbox, 2 September 1967.
Deane, Barbara Marilyn, “Today I Feel So Happy,” Chelsea News (Bowie interview), 15 September 1967.

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“Bowie Bows to Age,” Fabulous 208, 30 September 1967.
Hyland, Mike, “In the Groove,” Schenectady Gazette, 21 October 1967.
“The Lean and Dreamy David,” Fabulous 208, 25 November 1967.
“On the Air and On the Boards,” Bromley Advertiser, 21 December 1967.
Bromley Times (article on DB current activities), 22 December 1967.
Chapman, Don, “Miming Promise (review of ‘Pierrot in Turquoise’),” Oxford Mail, 29 December 1967.
Young, B.A., Financial Times (review of ‘Pierrot in Turquoise’), 29 December 1967.

1968

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“Pierrot in Turquoise (review),” The Stage, 1 January 1968.
“Eye Spy!,” Jackie, 3 February 1968.
Roberts, Peter, “Burlesque in Rhyme,” The Times, 8 March 1968.
Farjeon, Annabel, Evening Standard (‘Pierrot in Turquoise’ review), 8 March 1968.
“Bromley 21-Year-old Songwriter Goes On Stage,” Bromley Times, 8 March 1968.
“Pierrot in Turquoise (review)”, Stage and Television Today, 14 March 1968.
“Rex Set: Festival Hall, June 3,” International Times (review of T. Rex/DB show), 14-27 June 1968.
More, Sheila, “The Restless Generation: 2,” The Times, 11 December 1968.

1969

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Evening News (article/photo on Love You Till Tuesday), 14 February 1969.
Croydon Advertiser (poss. DB article? unconfirmed), 21 February 1969.
Finnigan, Mary, “Announcement of Beckenham Arts Lab,” International Times, 23 May-5 June 1969.
Valentine, Penny, “David Bowie—Amazing Sound! (“Space Oddity” review),” Disc & Music Echo, 12 July 1969.
Welch, Chris, “Space Oddity (review),” Melody Maker, 12 July 1969.
Finnigan, Mary, “An Interview With David Bowie,” International Times, 15-21 August 1969.
Classen, Jojanneke, “Bowie’s Great Love is His Arts Lab,” Het Parool, 30 August 1969.
Welch, Chris, “Beckenham Arts Lab,” Melody Maker, ca. September 1969.
Welch, Chris, “A Mixture of Dali, 2001 and the Bee Gees,” Melody Maker, 11 October 1969.
Record Mirror (Bowie interview), 11 October 1969.
“Chart Control to David Bowie,” Disc & Music Echo, 11 October 1969.
Norman, Tony, “David Bowie Hopes to Take Over a Road!,” Top Pops, 25 October 1969.
Valentine, Penny, “David Bowie Says Most Things the Long Way Round!” (& “David Bowie: track by track”), Disc & Music Echo, 25 October 1969.
“This Is David Bowie (Space Oddity review)”, Music Now!, November 1969.
“Bowie TV Special, Solo Concert,” NME, ca. November 1969.
Coxhill, Gordon, “Don’t Dig Too Deep, Pleads Oddity David Bowie,” NME, 15 November 1969.

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“Popsterren Over Popplaten [Pop Stars on Pop Records]” (Bowie reviews new singles), “David Bowie: Hit After 5 Years,” Muziek Expres, November 1969.
“Outsaspace, Outasight,” Fabulous 208, 27 November 1969.
Palmer, Tony, “Up to Date Minstrel,” The Observer, 7 December 1969.
Simpson, Kate, “David Bowie: His Thoughts and Ideas Revealed,” Music Now!, 20 December 1969.
“New Sound” (photo caption, DB and Stylophone), Billboard, 27 December 1969.
Fabulous 208, 27 December 1969 (Bowie and Angela Barnett on cover).

1970

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Robbie, Sandie, “A Real Pop Oddity,” Mirabelle (DB as cover model), 31 January 1970.
Valentine, Penny, “A New Star Shoots Upwards and One Still Shines,” Disc, 14 February 1970.
Nightingale, Anne, Daily Sketch (column mentioning Bowie), 14 February 1970.
“He Likes Our Fish ‘N Chips!” Hull Times, ca. mid-February 1970.
“Bowie Group,” NME, 5 March 1970.
Johnson, Derek, “The Prettiest Star (review), NME, 7 March 1970.
Jones, Peter, “The Prettiest Star (review),” Record Mirror, 7 March 1970.
Valentine, Penny, “The Prettiest Star (review),” Disc & Music Echo, 7 March 1970.
Music Business Weekly, (Prettiest Star review), 7 March 1970.
Daily Mirror, (Prettiest Star review), 7 March 1970.
“David Bowie: A Real Cool Guy,” Mirabelle, 7 March 1970.
Petrie, Gavin, “Bowie’s Bow,” Disc and Music Echo, 12 March 1970.
“The Bridegroom Wore Satin…” (DB wedding), Bromley Times, 27 March 1970.
Telford, Raymond, “Hype and David Bowie’s Future,” Melody Maker, 28 March 1970.
Hughes, Tim and Trevor Richardson, “Bowie For a Song,” Jeremy, March 1970.
Tremlett, George, “Face to Face With David Bowie—My Lost Year,” Jackie, 10 May 1970.
Valentine, Penny, “David Bowie: Music and Life,” Sounds, ? 1970.

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The Mime Songs

October 21, 2009

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Threepenny Pierrot.
Columbine.
The Mirror.
The Mask.

For a time, during the tail end of the ’60s, David Bowie became a professional mime who occasionally sang on stage. His label wanted to be rid of him, every record that he had released had flopped, he didn’t have a band, and often his only regular work came from mime shows, whether in stage productions or even (disastrously) opening for rock bands like Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Mime, like it or loathe it, is essential to Bowie’s art—it’s as important an influence as Bowie’s love of R&B and jazz, or science fiction, or Buddhism, or Lou Reed. It lies behind everything that he did after 1968: Ziggy Stardust, Halloween Jack, The Thin White Duke, even the wan extraterrestrial figure of his “Berlin” trilogy are basically all mimetic interpretations of rock musicians. Coming full circle, Bowie dressed as Pierrot in his 1980 video for “Ashes to Ashes,” winding down his most creative period.

Bowie had followed the path of a typical British would-be rock star—leaving school early, playing in beat groups, getting a manager, cutting singles, making a moderately psychedelic LP. His mime years broke this frame; it marked him with a different aesthetic than the typical rocker. It’s in part why Bowie is hard to fit into the standard “’70s rock star” slot, though radio stations and retrospectives try, and why some critics have considered him a poseur, a campy thief, a heartless vampire figure. Was Bowie really only a mime who “played” a rock musician? Or was he someone who considered mime to be an aesthetic equivalent to rock & roll, thus denying one of the music’s core myths—that its purity and simplicity made it superior to more elaborate, ‘higher” forms of art? When a mime can do rock as well as a “real” rock & roll singer, what does it say about the latter?

[Bowie] in class would drink up my words and do exactly as I asked of him. And a few years later, when he invited me to stage Ziggy Stardust for him at the Rainbow, he was still a joy to direct. I would keep encouraging him to simplify his performance, which he did, and we never had any artistic disagreements. He was an ideal student.

Lindsay Kemp, quoted in The Bowie Companion.

It was everything I thought Bohemia probably was. I joined the circus.

David Bowie, 1997, on working with Kemp.

Bowie met the mime Lindsay Kemp in mid-1967 and by the fall was taking dance lessons from him. Kemp later claimed, deliberately creating a legend, that he had saved Bowie from becoming a Buddhist monk, as Bowie had visited a Buddhist monastery in Scotland and allegedly was considering taking vows. Kemp asked Bowie to perform and write songs for a new production he was mounting, Pierrot in Turquoise. (Bowie suggested “turquoise” as it was the Buddhist symbol of eternity.) The play featured Pierrot, the sad, ever-trusting cuckold, his love Columbine and her lover Harlequin, variations on classic Commedia dell’arte types. The production became a traveling soap opera: Bowie was having simultaneous affairs with Kemp and the costume designer Natasha Korniloff, and once Kemp found out, he lived up to the role of the betrayed Pierrot and slashed his wrists before a show. When he reopened the wounds while performing that night, blood stained his Pierrot costume and the audience roared at the audacious realism.

For Pierrot in Turquoise, Bowie wrote “Threepenny Pierrot,” “Columbine” and “The Mirror” and revived, yet again, “When I Live My Dream.” While the jaunty “Threepenny Pierrot” (soon to be rewritten as “London Bye Ta-Ta“) could have fit on Bowie’s debut LP, “Columbine” and “The Mirror” show a new, emerging compositional style for Bowie—somber folk-esque songs, in which an elaborate lyric is countered by a basic, repetitive acoustic guitar figure. The type would dominate the Space Oddity LP. Bowie quarried from “Columbine” in particular—its guitar line is reused in “Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed” and a variation turns up at the end of “Width of a Circle.”

Bowie continued to work as a mime and dancer throughout 1968 and 1969, dancing in a Kemp-choreographed version of Pushkin’s The Pistol Shot and performing his own Tibetan-inspired production Yet-San and The Eagle. When Bowie’s manager Ken Pitt, seeking to revive his client’s career, arranged for Bowie to record a promo film, Bowie included in the mix a mime piece (with narration) he had written entitled “The Mask.” During its five minute span, Bowie calmly and ominously depicts his future stardom and the subsequent near-madness it caused him. He acted out his future, then endured it.

“Threepenny Pierrot,” “Columbine” and “The Mirror” were debuted at the premiere of Pierrot in Turquoise in Oxford on 28 December 1967; their only recordings are from a 1970 production of the show, The Looking Glass Murders, that aired on the BBC. “The Mask” was recorded for Bowie’s promo film Love You Till Tuesday on 5 February 1969.

Top: David Bowie at the Middle Earth Club, 19 May 1968.


Little Toy Soldier

October 7, 2009

actionman

Little Toy Soldier.

“Little Toy Soldier” features a little girl Sadie, a toy soldier and lots of whipping. Amazingly, it was never released.

It’s an obvious rip on the Velvet Underground’s “Venus In Furs,” to the point where Bowie pilfers whole lines from the earlier song. There’s a grubby adolescent sensibility to it: the lyric seems like it’s by a boy who stole a copy of Justine out of the library. It also marks the fittingly perverse, gruesome end to Bowie’s novelty song series.

Gus Dudgeon, Bowie’s dedicated noisemaker by this point, festoons the verses with cackles, whipcracks and creaking springs. That’s just the warm up. Halfway through, after the soldier (a bit too wound up, it seems) kills Sadie in a fit of passion, the track descends into a maelstrom: Indian war whoops, explosions, shattering glass, coughing, motorway noise, and, just as in “Please Mr. Gravedigger,” a loudly blown nose.

Of interest (besides the S&M and noises) for being a document of the battle for Bowie’s soul—Bowie delivers the verses in his Anthony Newley-inspired voice, the choruses in his Lou Reed imitation.

Recorded on 5 April 1967 with the Riot Squad, a London band that Bowie took over for a few months in ’67, playing about 20 shows and cutting a few demos with them. They were Rod Davies (g), Croke Prebble (b), Bob Evans (sax, flute), George Butcher (keys) and Derek Roll (d); “Toy Soldier” is found on bootlegs (where it’s sometimes called “Sadie”) like Pierrot in Turquoise.

Top: Action Man in the field.


When I Live My Dream

October 2, 2009

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When I Live My Dream.

Bowie’s first LP was essentially finished in mid-December 1966 but Deram sat on it for more than six months. In February 1967, Bowie cut two new tracks that became last-minute additions, leavening the album’s weirdness with more standard pop.

Much like “Sell Me a Coat,” “When I Live My Dream” has a lovely melody burdened with awkward lyrics (“the trees will play the rhythm of my dream” ?) and smothered (in later versions) by an overdone arrangement. Whenever Bowie deliberately tried to write for a mainstream audience in this period, as he appeared to be doing here, he fell into weak artifice. He could easily connect with the sad, the lost and the eccentric, but found it difficult to, basically, write for squares.

That said, Bowie and his manager Ken Pitt apparently thought “Dream” could be their break-through song and so kept flogging it despite the lack of label enthusiasm. A fairly spare initial version was soon followed by a remake with a sodden Ivor Raymonde arrangement, the latter version proposed as a single (Deram nixed it). Bowie pushed “Dream” for the rest of the decade—including it in the mime show Pierrot in Turquoise, recording a German version and making it the closing number of his “Love You Till Tuesday” promotional film. He finally gave up in July 1969, when Bowie performed “Dream” in a big-band arrangement at the International Song Festival competition in Valetta, Malta, and lost to a Spanish child prodigy named Cristina.

The song suffered from bad timing, in part—it reeked of stale sentiment and sounded corny when it was released in the summer of ’67. And the lyric, with its tired knights-and-castles imagery, its weak rhymes (“horse” paired with “voice”) and the occasional groan-inducing line like “tell them I’m a dreaming kind of guy,” is a real muddle. The singer’s been dumped and contents himself with imagining his lost lover in his dreams, but he also keeps putting off his illusions, as though he needs her legal consent to get things started. It builds up to the final histrionic verse where he assures her that he’ll only stalk her in his dreamworld.

Best suited as a cue for nostalgia, despite it having had no resonance in its own time. Leos Carax used it in 1984’s Boy Meets Girl, and Seu Jorge‘s version, recorded in 2004 for the Life Aquatic soundtrack, is likely the song’s finest interpretation. Singing most of it in Portuguese helped.

The first version was recorded on 25 February 1967, the remake on 3 June 1967 (both are on Deram Anthology).

Top: Jean-Pierre Léaud and Anne Wiazemsky in Godard’s La Chinoise, 1967.