Tag Archives: 1960s

2010 ➤ A feast of Bowie-ana served in waffeur-thin slices

David Bowie, review,Curious magazine, Any Day Now,Brian Ward,Arnold Corns,Man Who Sold The World,Mr Fish,Freddi Burretti, Ziggy Stardust,Yours or Mine,Malcolm Thomson

Candid cover for Curious magazine from 1971: Bowie spotted the dress designer Fred Burrett (aka Rudi Valentino) at the Kensington disco Yours or Mine wearing white spandex hot pants. He became a close friend Bowie determined would be “the next Mick Jagger” in a specially created band called The Arnold Corns. In the event, as Freddi Burretti he made Ziggy Stardust’s outfits from the first quilted jumpsuit onward… Bowie here drags up in the Mr Fish “man-dress” that appears on the sleeve for The Man Who Sold The World — one of many mementoes in Any Day Now, Kevin Cann’s new book about Bowie. Photographed © by Brian Ward

❚ DAVID BOWIE HAS BEEN THE SINGLE MOST INFLUENTIAL FORCE IN POPULAR MUSIC SINCE [Fill in the benchmark of your choice, eg:] Mozart/ Schubert/ Marie Lloyd/ Gershwin/ Little Richard/ Sondheim/ Spinal Tap. In which case, this Christmas there can be no better present for anybody with the slightest interest in the godlike creator of Ziggy Stardust than Kevin Cann’s new photobook Any Day Now, The London Years 1947-1974 (Adelita, £25).

It is impossible adequately to acknowledge the trainspotterish, yet deeply rewarding scope of this sheer labour of love that has amassed 850 pictures — friends, lovers, costumes, contracts, doodles, laundry bills, performances, candid snaps — on 336 pages. Why, it even has a backstage photo I’ve never seen of the day I met Bowie at the London Palladium when he sang Space Oddity for charity (and met the cult ukulele player Tiny Tim, going on to record one of his B-sides, Fill Your Heart, on Hunky Dory).

This book is a feast of Bowie-ana served up like La Grande Bouffe, in ever more tempting waffeur-thin slices. Cann is a veteran chronicler of the pop star’s work and here neither attempts a long-form biography, nor detracts from Nicholas Pegg’s much more musically appreciative survey, The Complete David Bowie, last updated in 2006. Any Day Now is more a chronology that feels as if it has an entry for every day in the star’s first three decades, running to 140,000 words (original interviews, press reports, eye-witness accounts), all diced and dispersed through the calendar. Contributions include a foreword by Kenneth Pitt, Bowie’s gifted manager 1967-1970.

Any Day Now, Kevin Cann, Adelita

Early cover designs for Any Day Now, publicised during the past year. At centre, the Palladium performance of Space Oddity

A typical spread [see below] might contain six images and as many short items, some of which are set in a font so small as to demand a magnifying glass for reading. An efficient index helps you to pick your topic and start panning for gold.

So for example, the “seminal” filmed version of Space Oddity, Bowie’s biggest hit, that has been exhumed then forgotten four times in the past 40 years, is finally accounted for in all its charmingly improvised glory. Since 2005, we have been able nonchalantly to click on YouTube to view this paradigm of all pop videos dating from before the word was invented. Yet originally it was a mere segment in a half-hour TV film about Bowie titled Love You Till Tuesday (LYTT) and directed by Malcolm Thomson.

While America was testing its first unmanned Apollo Lunar Module in 1968, the Space Oddity segment was of course inspired by that year’s visionary 70mm movie release, Stanley Kubrick’s 2001 A Space Odyssey. Cann’s chronology documents Thomson filming what Bowie evidently intended as a tongue-in-cheek spoof from its conception in Oct ’68 to wrap in Feb ’69. Bowie wrote the song itself, a forelorn meditation on love and fame, as his own love-life was falling apart and after viewing the Kubrick film “while stoned” (allegedly) that January, six months before the first Moon landing.

Ultimately in a studio in Greenwich, Bowie dons a barely-plausible zip-up silver space suit, blue visored helmet and Major Tom breast-plate while Samantha Bond and Suzanne Mercer as Barbarella-esque astro angels (more ’68 iconography), flaunting ludicrous blonde wigs and diaphanous gowns, simulate weightlessness among inflatable plastic furniture. It’s a modest little dig at Swinging 60s ephemera to set beside Barbarella, Blow-up and the incomparable Modesty Blaise.

Despite the single spending 14 weeks in the charts in 1969 and reaching No 5, Cann reports, TV networks showed “no interest” in the film, LYTT, containing this musical jewel, so it did not have its first public airing until 1972, on the BBC’s Old Grey Whistle Test. It then vanished until 1975 and the re-issue of Space Oddity when the clip was supplied as a promo to broadcasters, which doubtless helped the song’s progress to No 1 in the charts. Even then, the film clip did not receive a release until an album of same name, LYTT, came along in 1984. We then had an even longer wait until a DVD release in 2005 delivered the remastered version we enjoy today.

Not many people know this, 1 – In the same month, Feb 1969, Bowie auditioned for the hippy stage musical Hair! Twice! [Any Day Now, page 146]

Not many people know this, 2 – The book’s timeline ends in 1974 because Bowie left the UK on March 29 that year, aged 27, and has never resumed residency here since. Sob! Onboard the SS France bound for New York, the harmonica legend and Gershwin protege Larry Adler gives a recital. When the crew hear that Bowie is not going to do likewise while aboard and express their disappointment, Bowie gives them an impromptu performance in the canteen: 10 songs including Space Oddity. A few crew members took instruments and they played with him. What a jam session that must have been!

Any Day Now, Bowie, Kevin Cann,Kon-rads,Bowie

Spread from Any Day Now, the new book about Bowie’s formative years: here seen in his David Jones era when he formed his first band the Kon-rads at the age of 15

Melissa Alaverdy,Lindsay Kemp,Bowie , Any Day Now, Kevin Cann, Adelita

Another spread from Any Day Now, designed by Melissa Alaverdy: Bowie learning white-faced mime under Lindsay Kemp

Melissa Alaverdy , Any Day Now, Kevin Cann, Adelita,Bowie,Beatles

Another spread from Any Day Now, designed by Melissa Alaverdy: Bowie is seen here with Yellow Submarine-era Beatles

➢ Why there will never be another David Bowie — Caspar Llewellyn-Smith says Lady Gaga has got it wrong if she thinks the Thin White Duke’s brilliance comes down merely to striking a decent pose (from The Observer, Oct 10, 2010)

➢ Review in the Guardian: Two Bowie biographies shed new light on the career of pop’s greatest chameleon, but the man himself remains elusive


➤ How Keith Richards’s life of debauchery became an inexplicable sign of alien invasion at The Times

Keith Richards, autobiography, sex-and-drugs-and-rock-and-roll

Boy into man: Keith Richards in 1969 and after 40 years of living the life (EPA). Note in particular the hat and read on...

❚ BY THE MID-60S THE ROLLING STONES had become global superstars, though demonised for the raw sexuality of their songs and performance style. Guitarist Keith Richards is the man whose debauchery epitomises the ethos of sex-and-drugs-and-rock-and-roll, and on October 26 his “long-awaited” autobiog called Life is published by Weidenfeld & Nicolson. As if the UK’s tenth richest musician needed the cash — he is worth £175m in The Sunday Times Rich List — reports say he received an advance of £4.8m ($7.3m!!!) after a bidding war for the text, written with James Fox.

It amounts to a tawdry sequence of profane, drug-fuelled, low-life anecdotes from which nobody emerges with much integrity, like a bunch of amoral delinquents. Quite what excited The Times of London to devote three days-worth of space to this book is beyond comprehension. Under the headline Muddy Waters, Saturday’s main editorial in the paper actually damned the Richards yarn as “filthy” and “depraved”, while seeking to justify serialising massive chunks on the ground that “the music of the Rolling Stones has endured”, thanks to the band’s “sheer work ethic” !!! (Since they didn’t rise up to ridicule this lavish serialisation, we can only assume the entire staff of The Times has been zombified under Plan 9 from Outer Space.)

Almost the whole front page of The tabloid Times trailed the Richards extracts with the stark headline “Sex, drugs and me”. Highest common denominators, evidently, for Her Majesty’s newspaper of record. And a spectacular nadir for dignity in the Thunderer’s 225-year history.

As a time-saving service to discriminating readers of Shapersofthe80s, here are the juiciest bits, but be warned — do not raise your expectations above the navel. Ready with the sickbag, James!

In Friday’s interview with 66-year-old Richards, 35-year-old Caitlin Moran called the book a “total hoot” and through its sordid junkie haze introduced us to every mother’s idea of the son-in-law from hell. Right from chapter one, she said, he’d worn a hat made of drugs (“There was a flap at the side in which I’d stowed hash, Tuinals and coke”) and driven a car made of drugs (“I’d spent hours packing the side-panel with coke, grass, peyote and mescaline”).

Moran reports that Richards “gave up heroin in 1978, after his fifth bust, and he reveals today that he has finally given up cocaine, too — in 2006, after he fell from a tree in Fiji and had to have brain surgery:

❏ “Yeah, that was cocaine I had to give up for that,” he says, with a sigh. “You’re like: ‘I’ve got the message, oh Lord’.” He raps on the metal plate in his head. It makes a dull, thonking sound. “I’m just waiting for them to invent something more interesting, ha ha ha. I’m all ready to road-test it when they do.”

Throughout the Moran interview, he was of course smoking Marlboros and drinking vodka. His idea of totally clean, presumably.

Anita Pallenberg ,Barbarella

Anita Pallenberg in the Roger Vadim film Barbarella, 1968

In Saturday’s Times serialisation of Life, Richards recalls the Stones’s founding guitarist Brian Jones, who originally proposed the band’s name in 1962 and was to drown needlessly at the age of 27 in circumstances that remain unclear. He was neurotic, suffered from deteriorating health, he pushed friendships to the limit and treated women despicably. In Marrakesh in 1967 he and his girlfriend Anita Pallenberg had reached the end of their tethers. Richards writes:

❏ “They’d beaten the shit out of each other. And of course Brian starts trying to take Anita on for 15 rounds… Once again he breaks two ribs and a finger… Then Brian dragged two tattooed whores down the hotel corridor and into the room, trying to force Anita into a scene, humiliating her in front of them. He flung food at her. At that point Anita ran into my room… She was in tears. She didn’t want to leave but she realised that I was right when I said that Brian would probably try to kill her.”

Having “stolen” Anita Pallenberg from Jones to become Richards’s common-law wife, back in the 1970s some reciprocal bed-hopping took place between Richards and Mick Jagger’s girl Marianne Faithfull, and between Anita and Mick. This was when Richard learned his best friend was a disappointment in the sack, giving rise to his verdict on the over-rated Jagger jewels:

❏ “[Anita] had no fun with his tiny todger. I know he’s got an enormous pair of balls, but it doesn’t quite fill the gap, does it?”

Swingeing London 67 — Poster 1967-8: One of pop artist Richard Hamilton’s protest pictures in his Swingeing London series, commenting on the severe judgment passed on his friend, gallery owner Robert Fraser, and popstar Mick Jagger, for possession of drugs. (Photolithograph © Richard Hamilton published by ED912, in Tate collection)

Marianne Faithfull, Girl on a Motorcycle

Marianne Faithfull in the British film Girl on a Motorcycle, 1968

Life describes in detail the fabled 1967 drug bust at the Richards Sussex house, Redlands [reported in the collage above], which became a totemic cause célèbre when William Rees-Mogg — the down-with-the-kids editor of The Times — took on the crusty old establishment by denouncing the harsh jail sentences which followed. Richards writes that the raid was “a collusion between the News of the World and the cops, but the shocking extent of the stitch-up, which reached to the judiciary, didn’t become apparent until the case came to court”. He also sets the record straight on the role of a legendary Mars bar:

❏ “[Marianne Faithfull] had taken a bath upstairs, and I had this huge fur rug, and she just wrapped herself up in that. How the Mars bar got into the story I don’t know. There was one on the table — there were a couple, because on acid you get sugar lack and you’re munching away. And so she’s stuck for ever with the story of where the police found that Mars bar. And you have to say she wears it well.”
Etc etc etc etc

➢ “The Mars bar was a very effective piece of demonizing” — Marianne Faithfull in her own autobiography. More pictures and background at Another Nickel In The Machine

➢ Who was the Redlands informer? — All about the police drugs raid on Keith Richard’s home on Feb 12, 1967 at the History of Rock Music

Michele Breton ,Mick Jagger, Performance, films

“The most sexually charged film ever”: the androgynous Michele Breton and Mick Jagger in Performance, 1970

➢ Judge the Jagger todger for yourself at Another Nickel: Anita’s footage of Mick’s meat and two veg filmed during the making of Performance at 81 Powis Square in 1968

➢ Rolling Stone magazine has more Richards book excerpts plus slideshow on October 28, 2010

Keith Richards, David Courts , Bill Hackett, skull ring,

The guitarist’s hands in 2010, photographed © by Mario Sorrenti: the original skull ring that has become a rock-and-roll icon was given to Richards by London goldsmiths David Courts and Bill Hackett as a birthday present in 1978