"Starman" - David Bowie
This article is part one of a two-part series on the rise and fall of David Bowie and the unwavering dedication to his creative muse.
Part 1: The Rise
“Not only is it the last show of the tour, but it’s the last show that we’ll ever do.”
On July 3, 1973, David Bowie killed the omnisexual space alien who made him a star. It had taken Bowie years to become this cool — having released four largely unsuccessful albums as various, less interesting personas. He’d tried on the blues saxophonist, the nerdy baroque music enthusiast, the psychedelic folk singer, and the Led Zeppelin-esque hard rocker. Finally, David Bowie had ascended the mountaintop — or rather the mountain Top of the Pops — when he morphed into a sex-crazed space man named Ziggy Stardust.
It wasn’t an immediate hit.The first time Bowie unveiled the character, beer bottles were thrown at his head. Five months before the release of his fifth album, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, the band scheduled a 13-date mini-tour to test out otherworldly costumes and stage antics in front of crowds. To help generate buzz for their first shows, Bowie announced to the press that he would be producing Lou Reed’s new solo album, Transformer, and also, by the way, “I’m gay, always have been,” he revealed in an interview with Melody Maker magazine. Writer, Michael Watts had already pointed out earlier in the article: “He supposes he’s what people call bisexual.”
With curiosity piqued, the audience packed into the first large venue show. Freddie Mercury was among the celebrities in the crowd. The performance was pure camp — theatrical lighting and costume changes climaxed with Bowie on his knees, simulating oral sex on Mick Ronson’s guitar strings while he played.
“Are we going a bit too far?” asked drummer Woody Woodmansey to NME. “We did these shows and got booed off. We were getting bottles and all sorts flying at the stage, and being given the finger. We pulled in bodyguards ‘cos it looked like we were getting rinsed every night. We never finished the tour. It was very dangerous.”
Audiences were not at all ready for the androgynous bacchanalia they witnessed. Everyone in Bowie’s camp was worried: Was this another failed album? Would these antics ruin his career? Bowie was unfazed. From the album’s conception, he was unflappable in his vision. “His sense of purpose during recording sessions was decisive and absolute,” remembered Ziggy producer Ken Scott. “He knew exactly what he wanted for each individual track.”
When the album dropped on June 6, 1972, it was on course to be, at best, a moderate success. At worst, it would flop like the others. The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars sold only 8,000 copies in its first week. Bowie’s handlers remained worried. A month later, though, the moment they’d all hoped for finally arrived.
Bowie and his band booked a performance on the weekly BBC music television show, Top of the Pops. In the 3 minutes and 30 seconds it took to perform the lead single, “Starman,” a real-life star was formed in our universe. As if foreshadowing this performance, the lyrics of the song describe the extraterrestrial, Ziggy Stardust, bringing a message for Earthlings to “let all the children boogie.”
Switch on the TV, we may pick him up on Channel Two
Look out your window, I can see his light
If we can sparkle, he may land tonight
Don't tell your poppa or he'll get us locked up in fright
There's a Starman waiting in the sky
He'd like to come and meet us
But he thinks he'd blow our minds
And blow minds it did. The spaceship doors were flung open when teenagers glimpsed the sexy alien with the fiery red mullet, white nail polish, and platform boots. This strange figure broadcast over television waves sent them into hormonal orbit. According to Rhino, “It was 'the day that invented the '80s’ as so many musicians who went on to be household names saw the performance and it changed their lives. Those watching that night included U2’s Bono, The Cure’s Robert Smith, Boy George, Adam Ant, Mick Jones of the Clash, Morrissey and Johnny Marr of the Smiths, Siouxsie Sioux, John Taylor and Nick Rhodes of Duran Duran, Dave Gahan of Depeche Mode and many more.”
It was liftoff. NME put Bowie on the cover with the headline, “Britain’s High Priest of Camp.” The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars stayed on the charts for 106 weeks. Bowie’s previous four albums also started charting, with Hunky Dory shooting up to no. 3.
Ziggy had reached the zenith.
Then he walked away.
“Of all the shows on this tour, this particular show will remain with us the longest,” he announced mid-concert. “Because not only is it the last show of the tour, but it’s the last show that we’ll ever do. Thank you.”
The announcement came as a shock to most of Bowie’s bandmates and caused pandemonium among the new fanbase. There are unconfirmed urban-legend-level stories that audience members, so distraught by the news of Bowie’s retirement, responded by having a mass orgy in the theater after the show.
It had been a mere 18 months since his Ziggy Stardust character was conceived, and now it was over. The announcement is considered such a pivotal moment in rock history that the concert film depicting this exact moment (minus the orgies) was released shortly afterward into theaters, and now again this week, exactly 50 years later.
So few artists would’ve risked throwing away a sure thing. He’d become a household name. The tour was selling out. Kids were dressing up like Ziggy Stardust and forming their own bands. The temptation to keep wearing the golden handcuffs that come with this kind of success would’ve been too powerful for most performers, but David Bowie never wavered in his artistic decisions. It’s widely reported that the Ziggy creation had exhausted him physically and emotionally, but more importantly, he couldn’t bear the idea of a career defined by a single project. He was bursting with ideas and willing to stake everything for the right to create something new.
Now, 50 years later, we know that David Bowie’s dedication to his creative muse paid off. We fell in love with every version of him that came after Ziggy — Aladdin Sane, The Thin White Duke, whatever we’re calling ‘80’s Bowie. We voraciously consumed them all because we too want the freedom to experiment in a world that needs to categorize and label us. His influence on sexual expression also can’t be understated. After coming out as bisexual, the novelty of shock value quickly turned to exasperation when the interview questions about his sexuality outpaced the appreciation of his art. In a “this” or “that” world, bisexuals (and pansexuals and nonbinary folx) are often caught in a crossfire of binary categorization. It would be a topic he’d have to revisit often.
“You’ve been asked the question whether you were bisexual,”
“Too many times.”
“And you’ve never quite answered it.”
“Oh I have. I said I was bisexual. That’s enough.”
“Does that mean though, that you really are?”
“I’ve answered the question.”
David Bowie’s influence will be traced through music, fashion, and art for the rest of this space-time continuum. In a society determined to change us, irrespective of our fame, maybe Bowie’s most enduring legacy is his demonstration of unshakeable faith in one’s own artistic practice. In his own words:
“I think you have to. Otherwise, you get into a danger of getting into the rut and to perpetuate something that has gone before. A lot of people that I know are bugged with the idea that they have got to have an audience, or they have got to be liked. I think the more that you fall into that trap, it makes your own life harder to come to terms with, because an audience appreciation is only going to be periodic at the best of times. You will fall in and out of favor continually. I do not think it should be something one should be looking for. You should turn around at the end of the day and say I really like that piece of work, or that piece of work sucked. Not, was that popular?”
Read part two of this David Bowie series where we cover the intense amount of creative output in the last five years of his life. Article can be found here.
Leave a comment with your thoughts below. What are the most obvious Bowie influences we see today? Are you always able to stay true to your own creative muse?
It’s so easy when know the rules. It’s so easy, all you have to do is…answer the following question:
David Bowie is often said to have had two different colored eyes. Which two colors were they?
(scroll to the bottom for the answer.)
And you’re a material girl.
Welcome to our merch store! Every week, we’ll offer some cool swag based on the artist from each issue.
(Quiz answer: It’s a trick question. While people often claim that Bowie had two different colored eyes, that is incorrect. Both of his eyes are blue; the ocular oddity that you do notice is a permanently dilated pupil—which happened when Bowie was 15 years old and got into a fight with his friend, George Underwood, over a girl. (His fingernail sliced into Bowie’s eye.)
Did you catch our last issue?
Great piece, Jami, lovingly written! In the early '70s (when I was in high school in Texas), I was reading all the rock press, domestic and the 3 UK tabs: NME, Sounds, Melody Maker, a week later (as they were shipped, of course), and I remember reading about the "Spiders" flap/retirement thing (mostly in the UK press). I bought the domestic RCA "Ziggy" album the first week of release (June '72, I had just finished my junior year in hi school) for $2.99...it was on sale. It would go for $3.99 after the first sale week (a $4.98 RCA list price)!
Can't recall if I had any of Bowie's albums before "Ziggy." Likely not, although I quickly went back to fill in my personal catalog after "Ziggy" got my attention! I was already long into Bolan (I had his "Warlock of Love" book around 1970), and virtually anything else that was avant or envelope-pushing!
Bowie was, obviously, such a talent-laden artist who, thankfully (while, granted, gone too soon), had a lot of time to lay out his artistic vision, album after album, video after video, and tour after tour.
One of my favorite "nuclear talent fall-outs" is how he influenced others, far more than just music (which was massive, if not immediately obvious for artists who may not have "sounded like they were"): Artists like Madonna and Gaga have borrowed, whole-cloth, from the Bowie media-manipulation handbook! Tell 'em only what you want, always keep 'em guessing (looking at you, David!), and feel free to confuse and confound them! Madonna, especially, has been quoted as saying as such, while I'm only guessing Gaga is also so Bowie-influenced!
A memorable rock-history moment was Madge's first appearance on "American Bandstand," early-'80s ("Borderline" single maybe?). Paraphrase: Dick: "So, what are your ambitions? What do you hope to accomplish?" Mad Donna (as I've loved calling her!): "To rule the world!" Talk about prescient! Not to mention, larger-than-Goliath cajones! And, she knew just what she was saying (and meant), and she was nowhere close to joking.
Again, great rememberies, Jami, and I may not get a chance to offer my "official" half-century hat-tip to "Ziggy," so this just may end up doin' it! Thanks!
Great backstory here. Growing up I was always amazed that the Bowie “character” was so readily embraced - visually, sexually. I had no idea that he (and the band) were dodging beer bottles. There’s a kind of acceptance for people who slog through the deep mud of being themselves. I only really tuned him in after the hard work was done. And what an album. Five Years is at the top of personal Bowie Pantheon. It’s the one Bowie song I’ve never been able to play loudly enough. Thanks for this post.