Josef K

lol

Lisnaholic

^ That's a great review of Plankton's album - detailed and perceptive. I also thought the album was excellent - in fact I'm playing it now while I write this.

I'm glad that your dad is out of surgery, and that apparently all is well. I hope he makes a good recovery; sometimes post-op periods involve discomfort and require patience too.

I really liked your technique of describing your day in Toronto through the music you thought of or heard; it really brought it all to life and reflects what I´m sure is true for many of us - that off and on music is running through our heads all day long. Didn't hurt that your selection included some nice, nostalgic (for me, anyway) songs.

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"Am I enjoying this moment? I know of it and perhaps that is enough." - Sybille Bedford, 1953

Pet_Sounds

Lisna! Thanks for dropping in and the well-wishes.

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Everybody's dying just to get the disease

Pet_Sounds

Earlier this week, I took a leap of faith and committed to writing a review of an album by an artist of whom I had no previous experience. The commitment was to Urban's themed week, the artist was David Bowie, and the album was Ziggy Stardust, which I chose simply because of its fame. Why haven't I listened to Bowie before? I really don't know. He's never entered my thoughts. This is the first of three installments, in which I'll be exploring the story of Ziggy Stardust and the idea of a "concept album" in general. But for now -- a simple mini-review.

I had no idea what to expect when I played this for the first time. My only experience with Bowie was through his duet of "The Little Drummer Boy" with Bing Crosby. But I'd read in a special edition of Rolling Stone that Paul McCartney's "Jet" was inspired by him. I love that song, so my hopes were up.

My expectations were far exceeded. From the beginning of "Five Years" to the end of "Rock 'n' Roll Suicide" I was glued to my headphones. As soon as the album was finished, I played it again. Then I bicycled down to my local used record store and purchased a CD. Bowie's vocals are fantastic - smooth, but with an bite. The guitar work is slick and tight. The lyrics have me hanging on every word. The concept, however, is what really intrigues me. However, more about that later…

Ziggy Stardust will be in frequent rotation for some time. It's possibly one of my top ten favourite albums. I'll be exploring David Bowie's discography further. (Got a rec, Urban?) Definitely a 10/10.

Watch for more on the concept and storyline of the album in tomorrow's second installment….

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Everybody's dying just to get the disease

Pet_Sounds

As I mentioned yesterday, Ziggy Stardust is a "concept album" -- an album in which each song adds to a unified whole.

While researching concept albums, I ran across three articles discussing the first modern concept album. One claimed that the title belonged to The Beach Boys' Pet Sounds, because the songs all described Brian Wilson's emotions at the time. Bollocks. Every album describes the songwriter's or songwriters' emotions. The only "concept" in Pet Sounds is in making "Wouldn't It Be Nice" the opening track and "Caroline No" the closer, which, if read into, could describe the loss of innocence and a failed romance, both common themes in Wilson's work. Another claimed that The Beatles were first, with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. The album chronicles a fictitious concert, complete with applause. Quite frankly, the "concept" only applies to the opener and title track, "With a Little Help From My Friends", and the title track's reprise. Once again, it's not a concept album, it's a couple of concept songs. The third article cited The Who's The Who Sell Out, which is supposedly a broadcast from a fictitious pirate radio station. That I'll buy. The band members even recorded commercials and jingles. While the idea was conceived much earlier, perhaps in the 1940s, The Who Sell Out was the first "true" rock concept album.

Back to Bowie. The "concept", or story, of Ziggy Stardust, is rather… unusual. Humanity has five years left to survive. Ziggy Stardust is an alien rock star who is sent to Earth on a mission to spread news and hope through his songs. He discovers that the world can be saved through alien "infinites", who are actually black holes. However, the infinites have no interest in saving the world, partially because they're kind of… formless. In the closer, "Rock 'n' Roll Suicide", they tear Ziggy to pieces and thus take shape in human form.

Got it?

Tomorrow, I'll be messing with the concept slightly -- rewriting the story, so to speak.

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Everybody's dying just to get the disease

Pet_Sounds

I’m going to rewrite The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars. Simply by using the random button on my CD player.

First up is Moonage Daydream.

Ziggy comes down to Earth and begins playing concerts. This is an alien love song, perhaps to catch our attention and tell us that he’s something... unusual.

My CD player whirs again, and the acoustic guitar of Starman can be heard.

More about Ziggy’s concerts – perhaps from an audience member hearing his message of hope.

Track #2, Soul Love, begins playing.

We seem to have uncovered a side plot. A romance seems to be unfolding. Perhaps Ziggy has fallen in love with an Earthling?

And Hang Onto Yourself starts up.

The romance unfolds further. Sounds like Ziggy might have made it with his girl.

Five Years’ “Take Five”-esque drum intro begins.

And now the catch. We only have five years left to exist.

And the distinctive riff of Ziggy Stardust floats into my headphones.

The “Spiders From Mars” seem to bitching about Ziggy’s ego. He’s a great guitar player – but when he starts to think he’s a Messiah, that’s when they draw the line.

Here’s Star.

This is Ziggy’s comeback to the previous track. “I can make a transformation as a rock and roll star.” I can save the world from its imminent destruction!

Bowie’s frail vocals of It Ain’t Easy continue the shuffle.

More of Ziggy’s message of hope to the world. “We can all pull on through.”

The piano of Lady Stardust begins.

Seems to be a commentary on bisexuality. Is this Ziggy’s message of hope for the world?

That famous Suffragette City riff kicks in.

Ziggy’s getting tired of saving the world. Nobody believes in his message.

And the closer coincidentally aligns; here’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide.

Ziggy, depressed, takes his own life.






The concept holds up, albeit shakily, when shuffled. Probably helped that the last two tracks were the same. Anyway, thank-you to Urban for initiating the whole "Bowie Week in Journal Land". It's prompted the start of a couple new journals, which I'll be following. And it's made me a David Bowie fan.

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Everybody's dying just to get the disease

Pet_Sounds

Some time close to Christmas several years ago, my mom told me about an amazing collaboration between Bing Crosby, whom I knew as the crooner who narrated The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and "a British rock star named David Bowie" on one of my favourite Christmas songs, "The Little Drummer Boy". So she showed me the famous video.



At the time, I distinctly remember thinking two things: one, that "David Bowie" was just about the coolest name I'd ever heard, and two, "Wow, he looks like something from another planet." I'd been watching some early Star Trek at the time, and I had aliens on the brain. I had no idea who John Lennon and Harry Nilsson were, except that I kinda thought Lennon was connected with the Beatles.

A couple years later, I found out that Bing Crosby died shortly after the video was filmed. I remember thinking that recording a piece of music which lasted for generations and made an impression on countless listeners was a pretty cool way to go.


School was cancelled because of snow. I was using the time off to catch up on my English homework by studying The Merchant of Venice. I was researching the original tales that inspired Shakespeare's play when my dad came upstairs. I could tell something was unusual from his body language. He said--and I remember his words exactly, "I'm sorry to disturb your work, but I just found out David Bowie died, and I thought you'd want to know." He passed me his phone, on which was displayed a brief Rolling Stone article.

My first reaction didn't really happen. I was stunned. He was so… alive. This wasn't supposed to happen. I think I said "wow" and maybe, "Thanks for letting me know." After about five minutes, the news sank in, and I went off to my room to cry.

Bowie had made an impression on me long before I seriously listened to any of his music. I remember seeing his early album covers, specifically Aladdin Sane, in record stores and thinking, "What a weirdo." A magazine I picked up in an orthodontist's waiting room had a feature article on Chris Hadfield's version of "Space Oddity". But other my first exposure came through this forum, specifically a themed journal week Urban organized in late November 2014. As an absolute beginner, I opted to review The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars, "which I chose simply because of its fame."

I'm sorry to say I didn't. I listened to Ziggy Stardust a couple more times and otherwise completely neglected Bowie until the radio brought him to my attention. In the course of a week in late January 2015, I heard a live version of "Ziggy Stardust", "Space Oddity", and "Changes" all playing on either my local rock station or CBC Radio 2. It was "Changes" that captured my imagination and rekindled my interest. I identified with its lyrics, particularly the second verse:

I watch the ripples change their size, but never leave the stream of warm impermanence. And so the days float through my eyes, but still the days seem the same. And these children that you spit on, as they try to change their worlds, are immune to your consultations. They're quite aware of what they're going through.

So on February 7th, I visited the used record store downtown and bought Best of Bowie, a two-CD set with 38 songs, for only nine dollars. I remember looking at all the amazing song titles and eagerly anticipating hearing them for the first time: "The Man Who Sold the World"… "Life on Mars?"… "Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps"…

"David Bowie and Charlie Parker? You've got classy taste for a 14-year-old."

I smiled and corrected the cashier's observation by stating that Charlie Parker was for my brother and I hadn't heard much Bowie. That was about to change.

I listened to the entire first disc that day. "Life on Mars?" thrilled me. "Panic in Detroit" made me want to dance. And then something bizarre happened. The music changed. "Young Americans" was all right, I guessed. But I was severely disappointed in "Fame" and "Golden Years". When was Bowie going to get back to the awesome rock energy of the earlier songs? After forcing myself to sit through "TVC15" and "Sound and Vision", I had high hopes. "'Heroes'" was up next! It was apparently his greatest song--surely it would be cool? Nope. I remember thinking, "Maybe Bowie isn't as good as I thought." I listened to the first 30 seconds of "D.J.", then switched to Simon and Garfunkel.

Over the next few weeks, something weird happened. I slowly began to love those disappointing tracks. Unable to relax, I turned to the hypnotic rhythm of "Sound and Vision". Struggling on an essay due within hours, I turned to "'Heroes'" for inspiration and received my highest mark ever. David Bowie had opened my ears to a new world of music. I began to admire the man behind the art. I styled my hair to look like his did in the '80s. I adopted the famous Heroes pose for photographs. The British rock star with a cool name had indeed become one of my heroes.

I introduced Bowie's music to several friends, most notably the super-talented 14-year-old artist who drew the picture I now use as an avatar for my 15th birthday. She had no idea who Paul McCartney was (although I'm happy to say I've changed that) at the time. But, even as someone who's not into music, she became almost as much a fan as I was.

David Bowie was my most played artist in 2015, but the release of Blackstar took my enthusiasm to another level. Not only had he already created some of the most stunning music known to man, he was still at it, over 40 years later! Where would he go from here?

I know it sounds ridiculous, hyperbolic, and cliched, but David Bowie quite honestly changed my life. There's no other way to put it. I'm glad I was lucky enough to discover his music while he was still alive and experience him as an active musician, something future generations will only dream of.

January 8th, 1947 - January 10th, 2016. Rest in peace.

(By the way, I re-recorded this on January 11th. I apologize for the crappy audio and my shaky voice--I didn't have a decent mic set up and was close to tears a couple times.)

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Everybody's dying just to get the disease

GuD

Get Low and Hunky Dory. If you like those you might like Diamond Dogs and Heroes, too.

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I spit bullets in my feet
Every time I speak
So I write instead
And still people want me dead
~msc

Pet_Sounds

Both you and Urban recommended Hunky Dory, so that will be my next purchase.

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Everybody's dying just to get the disease

Pet_Sounds

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence….

During my absence, I had a dream. One which involved my parents. It left me devastated.

This Christmas will be the first I've spent with a broken family. As soon as the calendar turned to December, depression kicked in. I've stated that this journal is structureless, but for the rest of the month, I'm going to be looking at some of the songs that are helping me cope.

Note to Plankton and Frownland: I've listened to your albums, and will have reviews up at some point, probably in the New Year. Now, however, I'll be using this as an outlet for my emotions, and I don't have the time to give your works the attention they deserve.

I joined Music Banter on February 17th, 2014. Looking back in my diary, I can see it was about then that I confronted my family's disentigration as an inevitability. MB was an outlet for exactly six weeks. Then I decided it was too distracting from real life, and changed my password to some gobbledygook that would be impossible to remember. The next few months were rough. After life had settled down, I reappeared here in August, and the rest, as the saying goes, is history.

One of the places I have always been able to find comfort in is music. And what better place to begin than my favourite group of all time? Especially when that group has a remarkable breakup story of their own. Yes, it's the Beatles. And what better song than this, from their fragmented penultimate album?



The original had a much grander mood. Phil Spector added horns, string, a choir, a harp…. But some songs are best sung personally. This is one of them.

I don't show emotion very much. People have told me I have a pokerface. And my pain threshold is seemingly higher than others. I had my nose broken by a baseball when I was twelve, and the coaches were shocked by my lack of tears. Anybody else on the team would have been bawling. I don't cry easily, but I listened to Let It Be… Naked in its entirety this morning, and when that song came up, it devastated me.

Many times I've been alone, and many times I've cried
Anyway, you've always known the many ways I've tried
But still they lead me back
To the long, winding road
You left me standing here
A long, long time ago
Don't keep me waiting here
Lead me to your door….

So we beat on, boats against the current, drawn back ceaselessly into the past.

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Everybody's dying just to get the disease