David Bowie- "Be My Wife" Video (1977)

Classic Bowie from his "Thin White Duke" years. This song can be found on the first album of the Berlin Trilogy, Low:

T. Rex- Electric Warrior (1971) 30th Anniversary Edition / Electric Warrior Sessions (1999) MP3 & FLAC

"I danced myself right out the womb. Is it strange to dance so soon?"

Music scenes rarely originate with the release of a single album, and in the case of Glam-Rock, there had certainly been some earlier indications that something new and distinctive was on the horizon, most notably in the form of two Tony Visconti-produced albums released in 1970: T. Rex's self-titled  entry into the arena of electric rock and David Bowie's The Man Who Sold the World. According to Visconti, "Glam-rock was a name invented by the press to describe what artists and producers had already created. It was a crazy period musically and dressing up and wearing make-up was a great form of self-expression. David Bowie and Marc Bolan were the first artists to create the music and the dress code."  However, it wasn't until  T. Rex's Electric Warrior appeared in September 1971 that the U.K. Glam scene "came out of the closet" if you will, functioning as a flamboyantly subversive antidote to the dwindling relevance of psychedelia and the painfully non-ironic pretentiousness of the Prog-Rock movement. The first glimmer of the "T. Rextasy" phenomenon that would sweep the U.K. the following year was the unanticipated smash success of the single "Hot Love," which Bolan and percussionist Mickey Finn had recorded with a number of studio musicians filling in as a backing band in order to further develop T. Rex's newly-minted electric sound. With a number-one record now in his pocket, Bolan took this band back into the studio (actually, several studios) to record what would eventually become Electric Warrior. Much as he had done for Bowie (with significant help from Mick Ronson) the previous year, Visconti set about creating a heavier, fuller, sultrier sound for T. Rex, employing strings (which he himself composed), multi-tracked and back-masked guitar solos, and the peerless backing vocals of ex-Turtles Flo & Eddie. The album's iconic cover, designed by Hipgnosis (who would later do the artwork for Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon), features Bolan in dark silhouette, standing in front of an amp stack while blissfully bending a note on his Les Paul, everything emanating an aura of gold-dust. The cover could not have been more indicative of the music etched in the record's grooves or more prescient of the success that lay ahead for the band. Previous to Electric Warrior, Bolan's work often had an overriding escapist feel to it (this is also true of Bowie's early work), and while the album does carry over certain aspects of the trippy acoustic aesthetic of Tyrannosaurus Rex, it is, overall, a much darker affair than anything Bolan had previously recorded. This new sound was more or less created during the recording of the album's lead single "Get It On," which begins like a slow-motion Chuck Berry number, complete with a piano glissando contributed by Rick Wakeman. Visconti's slightly fuzzy production lends the song a sweaty sexuality that, despite the occasional nonsensicality of the lyrics, renders it as a timeless paean to the joys of shagging. What should also be mentioned is the beautifully understated groove that comprises the song; Bolan's short, sharp guitar bursts and seductive, whispery vocals belie the fact that "Get It On" is a rocker at heart. "Cosmic Dancer," on the other hand, is, in some ways, a throwback to A Beard of Stars-era Tyrannosaurus Rex, but with some significant differences, such as Bolan's vocals, which are much more subtle and emotionally raw than what is found in his earlier work. Also, Visconti's addition of strings gives the song a grandiose effect that borders dangerously on cheese at times, but Bolan's wistful acoustic strumming ultimately keeps it centered. One of the most overlooked songs on Electric Warrior but one that certainly presages the D.I.Y. music revolution that would descend on the U.K. in the late seventies is "Rip Off." Featuring an uncharacteristically aggressive vocal performance from Bolan, in which he angrily (and often nonsensically) sings through a laundry-list of stream-of-consciousness grievances, this isn't a song that operates so much on message as it does on the energy with which the lyrics are delivered. While the arrangement is far too polished for what would later be termed Punk-Rock, there is little doubt that T. Rex was a key influence on bands such as The Ramones and their progeny. While T. Rex's next album, The Slider, may be the best distillation of their early-seventies sound, Electric Warrior crackles with the energy of a new-found vision and the significance of having given birth to one of the most influential movements of the rock era.

David Bowie- Space Oddity (1969) 40th Anniversary Edition (Bonus Disc) MP3 & FLAC

"I'm the cream of the great utopia dream, and you're the gleam in depths of your

banker's spleen."

David Bowie (aka David Jones) had been struggling for years to achieve some semblance of commercial and artistic success as a musician, a journey that included stints as a blues-singer for mod-rock groups such as The King Bees and The Mannish Boys, a campy dance-hall dandy with a taste for Anthony Newley, and a Dylan-esque folksinger. While all of these musical incarnations failed miserably, it was, strangely enough, Bowie's participation in an avante-garde mime troupe that put him on the pathway to the kind of success he so badly craved. In 1968, now a solo mime artist, Bowie opened a show for Marc Bolan's Tyrannosaurus Rex, and in the process, crossed paths with Bolan's producer Tony Visconti. This was, of course, a fortuitous meeting because Visconti would prove to be instrumental in shaping the careers of both Bolan and Bowie, as well as helping to foster the birth of the Glam-Rock movement that would make them both superstars by 1972. Bowie had recorded a self-titled debut album for Deram in 1967, but when it failed to chart, his days at the label were numbered, and he was unceremoniously dropped in early 1968. Despite this turn of events, he had written a good deal of new material by the time he entered the studio in 1969 on Mercury Records' dime to record his second album, now with Visconti as his producer. Among the new songs was "Space Oddity," which was obviously influenced by the Stanley Kubrick film, 2001: A Space Odyssey and the impending Apollo moon landing. Bowie had originally written and recorded the song for a promotional film called Love You Till Tuesday, which ended up staying in the can until 1984.

While the song was deemed worthy (or timely) enough to be chosen, previous to the Mercury recording sessions, as the lead-single for the new album, Visconti reportedly hated the song and had no interest in producing it, which is why his assistant, Gus Dudgeon, who would later become Elton John's producer, was pressed into service. The Dudgeon-produced version is a dark, lush, and dramatic epic that quickly transcended the initial impression by critics that it was a novelty song. Central to the song's success are the haunting "space" effects provided by a mellotron and a pocket electronic organ called a stylophone, Bowie's now-iconic vocal performance, and the distinctive prog-folk arrangement. Not only was "Space Oddity" Bowie's first hit (top five in the U.K.), but it also, in many ways, provided the blueprint for his Ziggy Stardust persona and his ongoing thematic preoccupation with social outcasts and aliens. Originally titled David Bowie in the U.K. (inviting confusion with his identically-titled Deram debut), Man of Words / Man of Music in the U.S. and renamed Space Oddity for its re-issue in 1972, Bowie's second album is an edgy dystopian artistic breakthrough, which, though suffering a bit from a lack of stylistic cohesion, offers several glimpses of the genius Bowie would demonstrate in his work throughout the seventies. The approach to recording the album was a bit haphazard, but proved to be a valuable learning experience for all involved; as Visconti recalls, "we had no idea what we were doing. It was all over the map. But we met Mick Ronson at the very end of making that album and allowed him to educate us." In addition to the title track, Space Oddity features several gems, including "Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed," a proto-Glam kiss-off (both stylistically and lyrically) to what Bowie took to be the "lock-step" mentality hiding beneath the surface of various late-sixties counter-cultural ideologies. At the outset, the song sounds as though it might be an idealistic ballad, as Bowie strums his acoustic 12-string and, with a heavily reverbed voice, sings to a pretty girl in a window. However, when the bass and drums join the mix, things turn dark, as the song transforms into a snarling indictment of class from the perspective of a social outcast. The album concludes with another epic, "Memory of a Free Festival," which, in effect, closes the door on the last traces of the hippie-influenced utopianism that had preoccupied much of Bowie's earlier work. While the song recounts, in beautifully idealized terms, his first appearance at Glastonbury Festival, it maintains a funereal tone until the cathartic fade/chorus of "The sun machine is coming down / And we're gonna have a party" brings the song to a powerfully ironic conclusion. Upon its release, Space Oddity garnered a number of ecstatic reviews, but, in the eyes of Mercury, the album failed to deliver on the promise of its lead single, as the tracks recorded with Visconti are far from accessible and quite gloomy in tone. As a result, they failed to properly promote the album, so Bowie's commercial fortunes once again took a tumble.  It was to be on the next album, The Man Who Sold the World, that Bowie, Visconti and Ronson would craft the sound that helped change the face of rock music in the seventies.

T. Rex- S/T (1970) MP3 & FLAC

"A shape that was golden and crimson extended a claw to my frame. I sunk in the sand like an infant. I screamed but my tongue was lame."

Marc Bolan's decision to pick up the electric guitar may not have been as momentous as Bob Dylan's similar decision five years earlier, but in its own way, it created a ripple effect that was felt well into the seventies and beyond. More specifically, Bolan's re-invention of his sound, from the baroque freak-folk of Tyrannosaurus Rex to the harder, sex-drenched re-interpretation of early rock conventions that characterized T. Rex, is often credited as the true progenitor of the British Glam movement, which makes sense given that Glam is firmly grounded in the psychedelic and Art-Rock trends of the late sixties while also representing an overt rejection of the utopian tendencies of the era's counter-culture. Bolan is also credited with lending Glam its taste for musical theatrics, its androgynous sexuality, and its penchant for satin and glitter, all of which coalesced in T. Rex's legendary performance of the single "Hot Love" on Top of the Pops in 1971:

The seeds of Bolan's transformation can be traced back to a disastrous U.S. tour to promote Tyrannosaurus Rex's third album, Unicorn, during which his relationship with the other member of the duo, percussionist Steve Peregrine Took, suffered irreparably. The story goes that Took's replacement on the next album, Mickey Finn, lacked Took's backing-vocal abilities, which forced Bolan to double-track his own vocals, and in doing so, he stumbled on another element of the band's new sound. T. Rex, like its predecessor, Beard of Stars, is a transitional album through and through; however, unlike its predecessor, T. Rex bears some unmistakable signs pointing to the artistic heights Bolan would hit on the next three T. Rex albums. "Jewel" is a perfect example of this. At first glance, it sounds very much in the vein of the early Tyrannosaurus Rex albums with Bolan inhabiting his "bopping elf" persona and Finn providing some minimalist bongo accompaniment; however, just beneath the surface, the song burns along as an intense, bluesy rocker until the midway point, when Bolan offers a glimpse of the sound that would soon make him an icon. On "Diamond Meadows," the band utilizes what sounds like a string quartet to amp up the drama and beauty of the song, and while it does echo Bolan's earlier work to some degree, it sounds bigger and more fully formed in terms of melody and impact. One of the lesser-known gems found on T. Rex is "Seagull Woman," which has the distinction of being the first time Bolan worked with ex-Turtles Flo & Eddie, whose back-up vocals would play a major role in the success of Electric Warrior a year later. The song features one of Bolan's most beautifully understated vocals and a striking melody. Some characterize this album as little more than an an inferior warm-up for the classic albums that followed it, but T. Rex, in its own subtly prescient ways, is a worthy precursor to those albums.

David Bowie- The Man Who Sold the World (1970) Ryko Au20 Edition (Gold Disc) MP3 & FLAC

"'Cause I'd rather stay here with all the madmen than perish with the sad men
roaming free."

Although David Bowie's star had finally begun to ascend by 1970 thanks to the breakthrough success of his "Space Oddity" single the year before, it was not until the recording of his third album, The Man Who Sold the World, that he began to fully explore the rawer, darker, highly theatrical and sexually amorphous approach (both musically and thematically) that eventually made him (and his Ziggy Stardust persona) an iconic figure of the 1970s. In doing so, Bowie temporarily left behind the uniquely dystopian folk that characterized his previous album, Man of Words / Man of Music (later re-named Space Oddity) by relying heavily on two key collaborators who would help create the shape of things to come. The first, Tony Visconti, whose production credits at the time included Marc Bolan's Tyrannosaurus Rex and an early incarnation of Badfinger called The Iveys, had been playing bass in Bowie's touring band The Hype. For the new album, Bowie tabbed Visconti for production duties in addition to playing bass, and in doing so, initiated a creative partnership that would continue off and on for decades. The other, and perhaps even more significant, collaborator was guitarist Mick Ronson, who had also been recruited to play in The Hype, after having previously spent time in a Hull band called The Rats. According to Visconti, it was Ronson who provided the impetus for Bowie's first steps into the Glam-Rock arena: " We were scratching our heads, thinking, 'How do we get a big "rock" sound for David?' David felt very awkward up to that point. He hadn't worked with serious rock musicians. Mick was the first person we met who had dedicated his life to being a 'rock' guitarist." During the recording sessions for The Man Who Sold the World, Bowie, newly married, was preoccupied with family, which left the lion's share of the music arranging to Visconti and Ronson. As the infamous album cover suggests, Bowie's new direction was meant to be fearlessly provocative and musically incendiary, and by all accounts, Visconti and Ronson accomplished this goal. The overall sound of the album is muddy, fuzzy, grungy, off-kilter, and, in places, even approaches the proto-metal of bands such as Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath. On the epic opener, "The Width of a Circle," things start off with some ominous guitar feedback quickly dissolving into a languorously seductive guitar melody provided by Ronson that soon kicks into second gear when the rhythm section joins in. Bowie's high-pitched Cockney vocals, displaying a new-found confidence and a defiant sense of self-conscious camp, cut through the mix like a razor-blade, and in doing so, bring to life the song's dark, apocalyptic imagery. One of the less heralded gems on the album is the T. Rex tribute "Black Country Rock," which contains some the best guitar riffing- Glam or otherwise- you're likely to hear, but unlike some of Ronson's better-known contemporaries, he understood the beauty of subtlety. The Man Who Sold the World concludes with "The Supermen," whose Nietzschean themes and strange background choral effects lend the song an eerie darkness, which sets the stage for one of Bowie's most exaggerated and effective performances on the album. This is probably Bowie's most under-appreciated album, especially since it plays such a foundational role in his discography. As Visconti has stated, "The Man Who Sold the World became the blueprint for the rest of David's career. Virtually everything he's done since, you can trace back to something on that album."

T. Rex- "Jeepster" Video (1971)

Nice version of T. Rex's glam classic with some great conga work from Mr. Finn

David Bowie- "Moonage Daydream" (1973) Live, Hammersmith Odeon, July 3

This one's for you Mick Ronson: the most underrated guitar-god of the rock-era. TO BE PLAYED AT MAXIMUM VOLUME!

Brian Eno Series, #4: David Bowie- Low (1977) Ryko Au20 Edition (Gold Disc) MP3 & FLAC

"Sometimes you get so lonely; sometimes you get nowhere. I've lived all over the world; I've left every place."

Low, the first installment of Bowie's so-called "Berlin Trilogy," marks the culmination of his metamorphosis from polygendered Glam-Rock icon to cool maestro of avant-pop, and when listening to this album, it's hard to believe that it is only three years removed from the Glam-meets-Cabaret of Aladdin Sane. Meanwhile, Brian Eno was undergoing his own metamorphosis, recording the last of his "pop" albums, the transitional Before and After Science, while collaborating with Bowie on these sessions in Berlin. Not unlike Eno's album, Low is comprised of two distinct halves: jagged guitar-pop married to Kraftwerk-inspired synthetics and dark, atmospheric Eno-esque ambient electronic pieces. It is evident throughout the album that Eno brings out the best in Bowie, allowing him to indulge in the kind of experimentalism that his Ziggy persona made impossible, and in the process, they come up with the blueprint for the dreams of a thousand Post-Punk bands to come.