David Bowie - The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars

This is the first in what will be a trilogy of retrospective reviews of Bowie’s glam-era albums.

The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars clearly struck a chord when it was released- it hit number 5 in the UK charts upon release and is fondly remembered by most people of a certain age (specifically- your parents). It’s Bowie’s desperate, make-or-break follow up to the thank-God-it-sold-a-few-records Hunky Dory- boosted by the success of perfect pop single “Starman”. It is a concept album that doesn’t have much more of a concept than spaceships, free love and make-up.

The ‘glam’ label that this album (along with those of T Rex and contemporaries) helped to create instantly brings to mind images of glitzy excess- gold sequins, make-up and bombastic arrangements- and while these elements are certainly abundant, what surprises upon a first listen is the sparseness of the sound. The theatrical opener “Five Years” begins with some oddly thin-sounding drums and a few piano chords. While the arrangement becomes gloriously symphonic, and there is definitely plenty of bass- it somehow sounds as if someone’s cut the balls out of the song’s lower-end. This is really the case for most of the album and, in a way; it actually works in giving the production a very distinctive sound.

It’s in these operatic, anthemic and knowingly superficial statements that the album makes its greatest impact- all summarized in the closer “Rock n’ Roll Suicide” where, over bombastic brass and strings, Bowie screams with the cracked voice of a coked-up, ageing drag queen, “Just give me your hand/ ‘cos you’re wonderful!” Set against the somber regret of lounge-tinged “Lady Stardust”, the emotional impact is undeniable.

At this stage, dear Ziggy hadn’t quite learned how to rock hard in his own way (this would all change come Aladdin Sane)- so all the rockers here are in the vein of either The Who (“Star”) or Bowie’s appropriated Lou Reed persona, first witnessed in Hunky Dory’s “Queen Bitch” (“Hang on to Yourself”, “Suffragette City”).

Undeniably a mixed bag, this Starman isn’t too steady on his feet- all the conviction comes from desperation. And, really, that’s the way it should be; because no one else could say “Put your ray gun to my head” and get away with it.

Tip: Get the Rykodisc CD with bonus tracks. Sweet Head and Velvet Goldmine are absolute essentials, and an acoustic Ziggy demo is gorgeous.

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