David Bowie's Berlin Trilogy

 I have in the past couple of years, belatedly and rewardingly, become a wholehearted and fully-fledged adherent to the notion that David Bowie was perhaps the most important and influential solo artist ever to emerge from Britain. Even now, I think that many people under-estimate just how good he was.

Bowie's period of greatest creativity and consistency arguably spanned the years between, let us say, 1969 and 1984. He maintained a remarkably high standard allied to what, looking back, seems a prodigious work-rate. It seems barely credible that he managed to cram so much into the time available. Writing and recording, not to mention touring and engaging in various side-projects as producer and collaborator. That's before we even get on to his acting career! This productivity and prolific output remain one some of the most notable aspects of the Bowie story.

For what it's worth, my personal view is that his work in the period 1970-73 remains his most vital and his most enduring. The other clearly identifiable series of works which attracts most praise, comment and scrutiny is the so-called 'Berlin Trilogy', released between 1977 and 1979, in the form of the albums 'Low', 'Heroes' and 'Lodger'. 

I approached this blog article with a vague sense that the trilogy had received slightly excessive praise, that the critics had grasped hold of these records out of relief, following Bowie's musical excursions and meanderings of the mid-1970s. Anyway, in order to confirm or refute my tentative analysis, I resolved to review the three LPs and commit my conclusions and observations to blog form.

Of course it is debatable whether the sounds unveiled on 'Low' were genuinely new or revelatory to the music-listening public at large. Groups such as Kraftwerk and Tangerine Dream and, to a lesser extent, Can and NEU!, had acquired some attention on both sides of the Atlantic, so this brand of experimental work came as less as a shock than some might might have us believe. This, however, was an established, mainstream rock "superstar".

It is worth mentioning how much of the material on 'Low' is instrumental - 'Speed Of Life' and 'Sound and Vision' (sort of !) for example. Bowie was clearly sufficiently enamoured with this type of music to take this step. It was also a sign of his confidence and comfort with the new technology which he was utilizing.

'Low' has its hard edges too, and an uncompromising side to it . Songs such as 'Breaking Glass' display no little aggression. It may be that some of the rhythmic vigour was a legacy of the 'Station to Station' album. The directness could also have been prompted by the shadow of punk, which was making a genuine impact in Britain in 1976/77.

By and large the synthesizers and the experimental features do not come across as gimmicky. Bowie and his colleagues managed to make it sound as though this was a perfectly logical new direction, but also a matter of wrapping some familiar Bowie hallmarks in dynamic new clothes.

Like its two successors, 'Low' is not quite as 'experimental', not quite as much of a departure as might be deduced from some of the comments one hears and reads. Traditional song structures and musical basics still just about predominate, although songs such as 'Always Crashing In The Same Car' and 'Be My Wife' would have been regarded as unusual by more vanilla circles in 1977.

There is a uniformity of sorts to the musical palette of 'Low'. Meaty, big drums and sinuous bass lines, overlaid by keyboards and guitars. A few years ago this recipe might have assailed my ears as 'synthetic' or 'soulless', but I know better now.

The second half of the record is where much of the interest resides. 'A New Career in A New Town' is quite radical-sounding, with the influence of Can detectable in its quieter moments. As with most of other other numbers, there is plenty going on to hold the attention.

'Warszawa' is on on another level, both emotionally and sonically, to what surrounds it. A brooding 'semi-instrumental', bearing the stamp of Brian Eno. Making clever use of 'wordless vocals', it is perhaps the centrepiece of the album. Like other parts of the album, it is distinctly 'central European' in its influences.

'Art Decade' is almost a continuation of 'Warszawa'. As for 'Weeping Wall', there once again is that irresistible, intangible pull, atmospheric in a way that even the other quasi-instrumentals cannot quite manage.

The closer, 'Subterraneans', which was apparently inspired by East Berlin, is appropriately unsettling and stark, and features a great and evocative saxophone solo. 

To be fully appreciated and understood, 'Low' has to be listened to in its entirety and 'in sequence'. Only this way can one grasp and comprehend where Bowie was in 1977, and where his thoughts were leading him. The result is a measure of his imagination, his curiosity and his restless energy. My esteem for this work has been elevated a notch.

'Heroes' commences with 'Beauty and The Beast', which in part appears to take up where Side One of 'Low' left off.  Robert Fripp's guitar contributions add something to the mix, literally.

The title track of 'Heroes' is, of course, justly celebrated and revered, and it does embody those traits which made David Bowie so important and rewarding. The song is even sometimes cited as a "hinge" uniting two eras of rock music, or at least signifying a change.

I would say that this record feels considerably less "Berlin" in character and substance than 'Low', There could be more than one reason for this perception. The overall mood is more cheerful and less foreboding, perhaps reflecting what was going on in Bowie's mind and life. Also, what instrumental fare there is on 'Heroes' is different to that which formed the backdrop to 'Low' - although 'Sense Of Doubt' tries its best!

Other instrumental passages on 'Heroes' are more purely ambient in nature; 'Moss Garden' is the main example of this. 'Neukoln' on the other hand is more avant-garde than menacing; great saxophone part, too.

Whether all this makes it a more pleasant and congenial LP to listen to is still I guess a matter of personal taste or inclination. To me, it lacks a little of the gravitas and measured mastery which were so palpable with 'Low'.

So, it is a more buoyant and 'ebullient' record than the one which came before it, but this does not equate to 'better' or 'superior'. It lacks the philosophical depth and emotional power of 'Low', notwithstanding the presence of the 'Heroes' song itself.

It would not be surprising if the initial energy which was summoned up on 'Low' could not be sustained, leading to a slightly different type of record. Who knows, Bowie may have wanted it that way....

To be frank, I have never really associated 'Lodger' with the other two, and it often seemed that the reason for its existence was that it was an album which followed those other two, and journalists and others could therefore speak in terms of a 'trilogy'. If anything, my mind links 'Station to Station' with the series more than 'Lodger',

Also in my recollections, 'Lodger' has been linked to the musical trends of 1979 and beyond, rather than connection with some thematic or stylistic continuity from before. This may be because 1979 was the year when I first became truly interested in music on anything more than a superficial level. I was too young to remember the hype and chatter about 'Heroes' or 'Low', and the profound outpourings of critics and observers would have gone completely over my head, anyway. It was interesting to see how 'Lodger', more freed from the aforementioned preconceptions, would stand up.

The 'world music' content and orientation have been cited (Middle Eastern, African), but they hardly jump out at me. If Bowie was indeed exploring such genres, it would be typical of his ceaseless search for inspiration and knowledge. It would also be characteristic if those styles were absorbed into his musical framework in a subtle manner. 'Yassassin' does have quite an impact, the first truly impressive track on the album.

After a sluggish beginning the pace and the intensity pick up; 'Red Sails' maintains some momentum, with echoes of the German group NEU!. 

'D.J' reminds me of Talking Heads, and it presages some of the material which would be found on the 'Scary Monsters....' record. The song has some conviction to it, and this goes a long way.

Some of the songs ('Look Back In Anger') are illustrative of the artist's uncanny knack of anticipating trends (or alternatively of harnessing forces already present underground). Quite a lot of 1980s music can be heard in 'Lodger', as with the two previous albums, but presented here in more digestible and compact form.

Sound-wise 'Boys Keep Swinging' starts almost like 'son-of Heroes'.  I remember this song being played heavily on British radio in that year of 1979. It bears some Bowie trademarks, the relatively simple 'rock n roll' melodic and rhythmic foundation, the enigmatic lyrics and the backing vocal arrangements and 'horns'. It was the obvious choice as a single. Traces of 'Diamond Dogs' and 'Blue Jean' can also be heard within it, methinks.

The album does rather tail off after 'Boys Keep Swinging'. The track sequencing perhaps left a little to be desired?

So, how do I sum up the Berlin Trilogy? The three works each possess their own identity. 'Low' remains the most substantial and impactful, the most radical and the one which adheres most recognisably to the Berlin 'concept' (if indeed there was a concept), in artistic terms at least. 

'Heroes' is also excellent, but appraisal may have been skewed ever so slightly by the hold which the signature tune has on our collective consciousness.

'Lodger' is good in parts, but it lacks the edge and the breadth of ideas which propel the other two records towards some kind of greatness.

Above all, these three albums show Bowie's fearlessness, his openness to new ideas, the vigour of his quest and his refusal to settle for easy options or to tread water artistically. Overrated, underrated, it is almost irrelevant. These are important collections, and they should be experienced by every serious student of rock music. Their legacy continues to be heard and felt in our music and culture in 2022. 

Transformer - Lou Reed

For reasons which are difficult to fathom accurately, I had until relatively recently steered clear from examining in detail the solo career of Lou Reed. Maybe I thought that the subject matter of the songs would not be to my taste. 

Anyway, having opened my eyes (and ears) to other so-called alternative quarters of the musical universe, Transformer and other Reed solo LPs entered my consciousness. I am resoundingly glad that I felt ready to make that leap.

On first impressions, Transformer felt more meaty and guitar-heavy than The Velvet Underground. However, as has become customary for music people to emphasize, Lou Reed is primarily a tunesmith. These songs have an infectious and invigorating quality about them. Some of the energy and accessibility of the album may be attributed to the involvement in the project of David Bowie and Mick Ronson, as producers and musicians, The tunes are compact and tastefully captured. It may well be true that the material lacks the provocative and "subversive" flavour of the Velvets' greatest output. However, the tracks here are generally likeable and catchy - 'Vicious', 'Andy's Chest' and 'Hangin' Round', for instance.  They have also hidden depths and fascinations.

'Perfect Day' was hitherto a song which I rather loathed, considering it vacuous and overblown, but it now inspires my admiration and affection. I "get" the sentiments now, probably because I am older (or wiser?). 'Walk On The Wild Side' has undergone a similar transformation (pardon the pun) in my estimations, but for different reasons. I had tended to regard it as a novelty song, almost. The other famous number on the record, 'Satellite Of Love', has an elusively absorbing quality, in keeping with much of what surrounds it.

If Transformer ever appears in danger of growing too cosy or bland, then Mick Ronson's incisive and adroit guitar contributions serve to lift it. I also detected, vaguely, the influence of Bowie's Hunky Dory period here and there. All these elements assist in ensuring that the record retains its validity as an artistic endeavour worthy of exploration and respect.

A word too for 'Goodnight Ladies', a whimsical offering which has a strong 1920s Berlin ambience, and which adds welcome variety and humour.  A great and vibrant way to close. 

As for Reed's reputation as one of the godfathers of punk, it may be more visible and discernible on other records, but certainly the short and simple arrangements and riffs must have struck a chord with some aspiring musicians. 

So, not as challenging as other works involving Lou Reed, but a tight and coherent set of entertaining and sometimes intriguing pieces, competently produced and performed. It has been widely influential, and it still sounds urgent and energetic. The type of album which demands attention, and which draws the listener back repeatedly, despite its minor shortcomings.

Aladdin Sane - David Bowie

 When considering the David Bowie discography, I would say that his 1973 album Aladdin Sane occupies a curious place, and fulfils a rather nebulous role. It sometimes might seem that the record is a token gesture, an afterthought in the wake of the spectacular '...Ziggy Stardust....' project which came before it. Indeed, such evaluations had until comparatively recently instilled in me a tendency to ignore the work. The better-known numbers were familiar to me, of course, as were snippets of the less prominent tracks.

It was whilst on a lengthy car journey (as a passenger) a few years ago that the sheer effervescence and excellence of Aladdin Sane was truly brought home to me. The CD was playing on the car stereo, and although the road noise and other extraneous distractions conspired to make the listening experience less than ideal, I was left enthused, and eager to explore the work more at my leisure.

The 'Ziggy Stardust' album is regularly held up, along with a couple of other releases from around the same time, as one of the primary monuments of British glam rock. This assessment is difficult to contradict, but I would also contend that Aladdin Sane exudes a consummately 'glam rock' sensibility in large measures.  This stems in part from what I would term the 'sleazy decadence' of much of the sound, and the extravagant, almost exaggerated production values of some of the tracks are in line with other landmark 'glam' records of the early 70s. Add the 'avant-garde' trappings, which many have drawn attention to, and you have an invigorating spectacle, which does not feel contrived or self-conscious. The music has many dark and mysterious corners and departures to examine, imbuing it with a peculiar personality and force.

To me, the influence of contemporary American rock music can be keenly felt on the album; I am thinking of songs like 'Watch That Man' and 'Panic In Detroit'. which exhibit harder edges and are less buttoned-down and contained. On closer inspection, these tendencies predominate on a goodly portion of the record, and the presence of 'The Jean Genie' only underlines and reinforces this point, but somehow they linger less in my memory and my psyche than do other elements or affectations, and therein lies my perception of the record.

Some of the material, including the title track, has an unsettling atmosphere, perhaps reflective of the tense and uncertain social and economic climate of the times. What unites the compositions though is their air of confidence and self-assurance on the part of the artist, as if he rather revels in, and thrives on, instability and foreboding.

Although this record sees Bowie engaging in some experimentation, and hinting at the direction his music would take in the mid-Seventies, one or two of the songs would not sound out of place on previous LPs, notably 'Drive-In Saturday'. 

'Cracked Actor' is, I would estimate, a case of the two 'schools', the rock and the art-rock, coalescing, but the pugnacious narrowly wins out in the end. 'Time' on the other hand sees the Bowie of 1971/72 assuming new goggles, taking the 'template' into fresh territory, growing, expanding.

'The Prettiest Star' is another track which embraces the flavour of all of Bowie's classic 71-73 studio albums, highlighting traits which we might associate with them all. When joined together, they help to assign Aladdin Sane its identity and its aura. The essential sound of '73, perhaps?

A word must also be reserved here to draw attention to Mick Ronson's crunchy and pleasing guitar work throughout, a motif and a recurring delight. It has been said before, but those guitar parts add a new dimension, standing out even amongst the genius of Bowie.

Arriving last on the original album, but for me constituting the centrepiece of the album, is 'Lady Grinning Soul'. Its slinky 'out of time' spirit and its menacing inventiveness are a reminder of what, in qualitative terms, the collection is really all about. 

So there you have it. One of Bowie's greatest achievements, but also one of his most 'deceptive' and awkward to pin down. Essential listening for a full, if complicated, understanding of what Bowie meant in '73, where the world and culture were in '73, and for some tantalising hints of where Bowie might have been heading in the years ahead.

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

There are some records which render the listener open-mouthed and humble at their consummate effervescence, mastery and inventiveness. An example of this is David Bowie's 1972 glam-rock opus The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders from Mars. If you ever find someone enquiring what 'all the fuss' is about Bowie, just play this for them. It should swiftly assuage their doubts.

A little while ago I blogged my thoughts on the great man's previous LP, Hunky Dory  , That magnificent album succeeds partly on its mystique and its restrained brilliance.  The 'Ziggy Stardust' record is a more demonstrative and outgoing creature, dazzling and bewitching, whereas Hunky Dory charms and beguiles. This was all part of the astounding burst of creativity which Bowie essayed in the early 1970s, stemming from his innate talent and a boundless curiosity about cultural trends and modes of expression.

Over the years people have made veiled accusations that Bowie 'appropriated' ideas which were already thriving 'underground' and brought them into the mainstream. Whilst there may be some substance to these remarks, Bowie was far from alone in harnessing such forces, and cultivating the clarity of vision and the savvy to do so successfully is a talent in itself. If it was so easy, why weren't other people doing it to similar effect?  My philosophy is simply to savour the product of Bowie's inquisitiveness, which decisively outweighs any qualms which people may voice.

Song-for-song, the record represents a powerful outburst and flowering of ideas. It is more mainstream, arguably, than Hunky Dory, but exudes enormous vitality and command. The music has a crystalline and vibrant urgency which makes it stand out.

For all its reputation as a repository of 'futuristic' and 'visionary' work, much of the album's content is firmly rooted in decidedly 'traditional' rock and pop music styles. So by some interpretations it may be viewed as musically 'conservative', but there is little doubt about it being adventurous and daring in a 'philosophical' sense. This juxtaposition of the musical foundations with the 'poetic' orientations helps to imbue 'Ziggy Stardust' with its edge and its bite.

The 'retro' flavour of some of the music means that it has something in common with other glam-rock offerings from the early 1970s. There, however, the tenuous similarities end. Its sweep and its scope make it altogether more ambitious and progressive than the majority of the 'competition'.

'Five Years', the opening number, very much conforms to notions about musical 'traditionalism' as a motif pervading the album. In another respect this song goes against conventions, in that it is an 'untypical' choice to commence proceedings, not being up-tempo or vigorous. To some extent 'Five Years' introduces a template; 'old-time' with clear traces of modernism. This 'syncretic' character is part of what propels the whole project.

From the outset another pattern becomes clear. For all the talk of 'post-modernism', most of these recordings are underpinned by a solid, organic core, often consisting of acoustic guitars and piano, as a layer anchoring the sound in reality. Depth is thus added to the sonic strata, and the separation between instruments is another appealing feature. 

Bowie sounds remarkably self-assured and in control of what he is doing, and this sensitivity extends to ensuring that the music is 'cinematic' without lapsing into bombast, not always an easy balance to achieve. The listener is soon immersed in the unremitting excellence, and there is an abundance of ideas and surprises to maintain the interest.

A word too for those who helped with the production and the arrangements. 'Soul Love' is an example of a fairly ordinary track which is elevated by some inventiveness in these areas. A reminder, maybe, that music is often a 'holistic' discipline.

For me 'Moonage Daydream' is the 1970s Bowie creation par excellence. Again, Bowie exudes a certain mastery, and the dramatic soundscapes help transport the listener to a different plane - there is lots going on!. We also get a glimpse here of Mick Ronson's importance to the sound.

'Starman' is perhaps the most well-known song here. Like many of the compositions, it illustrates Bowie's often-overlooked gift for melody and 'musicality'. The sonic palette is again embellished to great effect, with guitars and what sounds like a Mellotron. It may also be that this song is a showcase for the star's idiosyncratic method of lyric-writing, with words which conjure up vivid images in the mind.

It has to be said that 'It Ain't Easy' is an unexceptional piece, and it sounds to my ears as though they tried a little too hard to infuse it with some zest and excitement. 

My feeling is that with 'Lady Stardust' we begin to reach the heart of the album, on more than one level. It possesses a rich and sinuous melody, which in places is redolent of Elton John. The piano is also pleasing. In addition, Bowie's vision and faith in the material comes shining through once more.

'Star' sounds like a part of a greater whole than just a self-contained song. It has a 'live' and 'theatrical' feel, like it might belong in a rock opera. As it happens, it fits very well into this concept-album-of-sorts.

I would say that the next number, 'Hang On To Yourself', has some of the same qualities as the one which precedes it, if in more minimalist packaging. It possibly harks back to the Velvet Underground, whilst also looking forward tentatively to musical happenings of the later Seventies.

The title track has a strong melodic framework, and once more that air of authority which echoes throughout the entire LP. The impression one gets with so many of these tracks is of a preponderance of ideas and creativity from all concerned. 'Ziggy Stardust' the song also contains some memorable lyrical imagery.

'Suffragette City' embodies the same sort of frantic energy as ' Hang On To Yourself', with added Ronson flourishes.

The closer of the original album, 'Rock 'n' Roll Suicide', is a rather unlikely conclusion, meaning that the record is bookended by two intriguing choices. Again, a 'retro' atmosphere prevails here, and there is much to hold the interest as it unfolds. 

All in all, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars is a delight, and a thrilling and invigorating ride. The music is exuberant yet tasteful, accessible yet profound, edgy yet engaging. A landmark release.

Hunky Dory - David Bowie

 During the period of lockdown which we were subject to in recent months, I occupied much of my time listening to music, and I acquainted myself with several albums which I had not previously explored in detail. One of these was David Bowie's 1971 release Hunky Dory.

I had long been an admirer of Bowie's work, but Hunky Dory had escaped my full attention. This was partly because the album had been cited as a favourite and a major influence by a few people, critics and broadcasters, whose judgement and taste I did not really trust or respect. However, examining the record in detail has been something of a revelation.

Whilst the "Ziggy Stardust" album leaves the listener open-mouthed and awed with its glitz and directness, Hunky Dory's appeal is rather different, with its mystique, and a seamless and fluent self-confidence which is truly remarkable and humbling.

Hunky Dory is striking for its maturity, as well as its lyrical sophistication. The subject matter and general ambience imbue the album with a vaguely enigmatic, "arthouse" sensibility, but equally and ironically these traits probably render it relatively inaccessible to some people. The production is clear and uncluttered, and the depth of melodic invention hold the attention and the interest.

Several of the songs on the record (Changes, Oh! You Pretty Things, and Life On Mars) are among the most recognisable and famous of Bowie numbers, but it is the remaining tracks which truly determine the record's tone and atmosphere. "Eight Line Poem" is a prime example; the piano sounds great, as it does throughout the album.

Some of the motifs and characteristics which were permitted full rein later are in evidence here, but they are employed more sparingly and less ostentatiously.

"Life On Mars" is hugely affecting, although its grandeur, and the arguably bombastic arrangement, might serve to obscure its genuine strengths and virtues.

There is much stylistic diversity on Hunky Dory, but it is clothed and masked slightly by garb which is peculiar both to Bowie and to this album - "Fill Your Heart" springs to mind. The poetic complexity is both adroit and convincing.

One of the highlights of the record for me is "Quicksand", a strident and dramatic composition which comes across as choate and sincere. It is given an effective arrangement, with some tasteful strings.

"Andy Warhol" and "Song For Bob Dylan" are both typical of the traits which suffuse the album. Again, Bowie ventures beyond the "obvious" and exhibits the grasp and the vision which separated him from his contemporaries.

"Queen Bitch" is both a nod to Bowie's influences of the time, and also a taste of what was to come shortly thereafter. Its relative directness and "decadence" add variety to the Hunky Dory diet. The closer, "The Bewlay Brothers" is stunning, and a highly appropriate way to round off the album.

Overall, the record exudes a zest and a cohesive ebullience which Bowie seldom matched elsewhere in his oeuvre. The arrangements, by and large, are appealing in their organic naturalness. The artist does not sound as though he is trying too hard to impress or dazzle people. The strength and originality of the material, and the ideas, are sufficient to carry the work.

If I was to choose a favourite David Bowie album, it would not be this one. It is less direct and outlandish than "Ziggy Stardust" or even Aladdin Sane, but it is brimming with creativity and inventiveness. It still sounds extraordinarily urgent and mature. A work of beauty, wonder and expressiveness.

The Wall - Pink Floyd

It recently occurred to me that I had hitherto resisted the impulse to listen to Pink Floyd's album "The Wall", in its chronological entirety. Perhaps the prospect even scared me slightly. When, however this gap in my experience was rectified, I was confronted with a few thoughts and revelations.

"The Wall" is a concept album, or rock opera, which follows the protagonist "Pink" in his journey from childhood, to isolation and alienation from society, and out again, the character being based partly on Syd Barrett, partly on Roger Waters himself. My recent and "morbid" interest in this work may stem in part from my own personal experiences in recent years, and my attempts to rationalize these life changes.

One of the things which struck me right away was how comparatively little out-and-out  "prog-rock" features on the record. By necessity the "rock opera" format demands shorter songs and some vignettes to tie the whole thing together, and the relative conciseness of the pieces evokes a mainstream rock feel.  If anything, the strongest direct, or indirect, musical influence which I can detect here is from British art/glam rock from earlier in the Seventies, primarily David Bowie and even Be Bop Deluxe and Queen. Some of Roger Waters' vocals even sound rather Bowie-esque. Songs like "In The Flesh" and "The Thin Ice" carry these traits.

Having listened regularly to the famous tunes ("Another Brick In The Wall Pt.2, Comfortably Numb, Hey You, etc), interest centres more on the pieces which flesh out the album and the story.  There are some recurring motifs, like in any opera of any kind, but the self-contained material is strong, confident and diverse - songs such as "Mother" and "Goodbye Blue Sky".  Also, the better-known compositions acquire a greater pertinence in the overall context of "The Wall"; "Hey You" is a good example of this; its meaning grows more acute, and more chilling.

When closely analysed, the music and the lyrics are not quite so overblown or pretentious as I have sometimes liked to tell myself. Some people might contend that the closing stages, the denouement as it were, is a little over-the-top or extreme, and whilst I would not disagree, it is difficult to deny its impact. The sound affects and speech excerpts which punctuate the record are scarcely original, but they do succeed in augmenting the intended atmosphere.

It is intriguing to note that Floyd, a target for the vitriol and derision of the punk revolution, were in this project exploring, albeit on a more grandiose scale,  subjects which punk also sought to address, such as alienation and the deleterious effects of aspects of human society and human nature.  "The Wall" is to me another vital document of British popular culture of the second half of the 1970s, a period when economic stagnation and psychological and spiritual disenchantment went hand in hand.

I am sure that a lot of people find that aspects of "The Wall" at least strike a chord with regard to their own lives, and supply ample food for thought. I myself can identify with the alienation/isolation angle at least. The "bricks" analogy is rather well done, so the concept itself is quite coherent. The "Pink" character is himself a rock star, but it does not take much for the listener to perceive metaphors in the unreality and artificiality of rock stardom which are more universally applicable.

Few will arrive there by the same route, but I think that most of us who have endured such isolation and angst yearn to have some kind of "epiphany", which takes us back to where we were before. If life can indeed be cyclical, the peaks and troughs are awfully long and deep.

"The Wall", for all its bleakness and occasionally excessive earnestness, is an absorbing musical and social statement.

David Bowie

The other day, I was stuck on public transport, with only my MP3 player for entertainment. Throughout the journey, I listened to a David Bowie compilation, which gave a varied and fairly representative overview of his career from 1969 until the late 1980s.

When the diversity of Bowie's output during the aforementioned period is discussed, opinion can be divided. Mainstream opinion tends to laud his willingness to experiment, and his apparent ability to pioneer musical trends (glam rock, disco/funk, electronica, rock/dance fusions etc). Some more cynical observers deride him as an opportunistic musical chameleon, merely capitalising on genres which were already thriving "underground".

Whilst there may be some truth in the latter contention, on balance I see it as a strength. Yes, some of Bowie's early work was derivative of ground already covered by the Velvet Underground and others. However, he managed to bestow these fashions with mainstream acceptance, by giving them the "Bowie treatment". Even well into the 1980s, he retained some "cred" with the critics and musos, as well as enjoying commercial success. To his credit, it also seems that Bowie was quite candid about his influences.

For what it is worth, my favourite Bowie era is the mid-1970s, in the aftermath of the Ziggy Stardust hysteria, and prior to his period of greatest experimentation. The works around this time were stripped of some of the earlier artifice, and concentrated more on straight-ahead rock n roll. The "Diamond Dogs" album seemed to act as some sort of pivot for Bowie's career.

Although his music appeared to lose focus and zest as the 1980s wore on, he was still making well-crafted material, plus the occasional gem ,"Absolute Beginners" being a case in point.