with co-production by CHIC's Nile Rodgers. It was a departure from Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) for which Bowie received a bit of inside criticism; rather than joining the musical revolt against 1980s dance music, he had definitely joined the scene. Its title track has become a standard, and the album also featured the singles "Modern Love" and "China Girl", the latter causing something of a stir due to its suggestive promotional video. Oddly enough, "China Girl" was actually a new version of a song which Bowie had co-written with Iggy Pop for The Idiot. Let's Dance is also notable as a stepping stone for the career of the late Texan guitar virtuoso Stevie Ray Vaughan, who played on the album.
It was Bowie's final album for the label and his first since the so-called "Berlin Trilogy" of Low, "Heroes" and Lodger (1977-1979). Whilst critically a triumph, the trilogy had proved less successful commercially. With Scary Monsters, however, Bowie achieved a major coup on both counts, the music press heaping praise on the new album and public anticipation being high enough to ensure that it debuted in the UK charts at #1.
interviews was about trying to shake off that middle class ball and chain.
consider your life worthwhile, or the life of those around you worthwhile, if you’re just fractured like that. I mean, God knows what would have happened to my son if I was continually stoned over the last ten years. I probably wouldn’t have him. He certainly wouldn’t have wanted me.”
useful, except – as Brian Eno would say – for setting up a new kind of vocabulary. Now I’ve got the vocabulary I’m supposed to do something with it! Ha ha.”
Modern Music
Music, is a 1969 album by rock musician David Bowie."Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed" reflected a strong Bob Dylan influence, with its harmonica, edgy guitar sound and snarling vocal. "Letter to Hermione" was a farewell ballad to Bowie's former girlfriend, Hermione Farthingale, who was also the object of "An Occasional Dream", a gentle folk tune reminiscent of the singer's 1967 debut album.
"Cygnet Committee", has been called Bowie’s "first true masterpiece". Commonly regarded as the album track most indicative of the composer's future direction, its lead character is a messianic figure "who breaks down barriers for his younger followers, but finds that he has only provided them with the means to reject and destroy him". Bowie himself described it at the time as a put down of hippies who seemed ready to follow any charismatic leader.
beginning of David Bowie's classic period.NME critics Roy Carr and Charles Shaar Murray have said of The Man Who Sold the World, "this is where the story really starts".Much of the album had a distinct heavy metal edge that stands it apart from Bowie's previous releases, and has been compared to such contemporary acts as Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath.
Placebo has refused to go away. Marilyn Manson has turned a satirical eye on his own media status and even Suede have since come to swoon over girls "shaped like a cigarette." Yet it's Brian Molko that's steered his band from premature randiness (Placebo) to fearful regrouping (Without You I'm Nothing) without once batting a makeup-smeared eyelash. Black Market Music finds Molko in such moody lust that his strangled, androgynous wailing rivals anything the band has previously flashed to the world. Whether it's the dripping, slithery punk circle of songs like "Black Eyed" or the choir-boy enthusiasm of others like "Special K" (strangely echoing Midnight Oil's "Warakurna"), Placebo seem to have finally found that sweet wet spot between beauty and perversion. Even at its worst (the "Block Rockin' Beats"-sampling "Taste in Men"), past glories sometimes fail to be repeated with at least grand, postcoital contentment. Because it's hard to hate an album with such fascinating softer touches. In one moment, Molko cries respect to his mother; in another he counsels, "You better keep it in check/Or you'll end up a wreck/And you'll never wake up" -- a paternal warning seemingly directed at his fellow hedonists. Of course, there's a thin line between trying to perfect old efforts and stumbling into laughable self-parody. But Placebo now seem more in control than they ever have before. The spectacular "Commercial for Levi," for example, is some perverted, weary take on a childhood lullaby, only one written in a parallel dimension about "spunk and bestiality." True, there's no "Nancy Boy" or "Pure Morning," yet the album's consistency easily outmatches even the highest watermarks of either predecessor. This is a dank, lusty moment in the band's career that is about as good as Placebo "mark 1" can go. They now have the talent, the intelligence, and the distorted arousal to possibly become unstoppable. It's only a matter of time before they finally find love amid the lust.
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You don't really see that I share a lot of 80s on this blog. I am always so confused by the era, not really implying it's pretenti...
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