Wham Bam Thank You Starman

Wham Bam Thank You Starman

David Bowie’s 1972 record, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars is a gorgeous, heartbreaking album, and not solely because of the rose colored glasses most fans will view the work of the man known not only as Ziggy Stardust, but Thin White Duke, Aladdin Sane, and several other less notable titles after his passing in January 2016 from cancer. What Bowie accomplishes in one album is impressive. From the beginning track “Five Years” to its final track, “Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide”, the album (henceforth to be referred to as Ziggy Stardust for the sake of space) tells a kind of story of an alien named Ziggy Stardust who apparently had a “God given ass.” but an ego to match who set out to save the planet from itself. It’s an admittedly silly premise. Until you remember that Bowie is Ziggy and then it just sounds like an excuse for Bowie to pat his ego on the head. Fortunately, that’s not the case.

When Bowie begins the album in “Five Years” first just talking, then despondently screaming about how there’s only five years and that everything is so short, it’s not immediately apparent that he’s setting up a story that will be completed with “Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide”. Bowie, however, was clever. Of all the songs on the album, these are the only two tracks that have any sort of orchestral sound to them. All the others play with 50s rock, 70s glam, or something only describable as Bowie. If Ziggy Stardust is viewed under that lens, a story begins to emerge to some degree. If “Five Years” is explaining how short of a time people have, then the next nine serve to explain why it’s so short. These little people fill their time with the things that are killing them, trying to be rockstars and live it up like in “Star” or to just keep pushing on, just hold it together even though they’re falling apart like in “Hang On to Yourself”, a song in which Bowie seems to channel the likes of Buddy Holly in his hiccupy “c’mons”. “It Ain’t Easy” in particular plays with harpsichord of all things to illustrate the difficulty between knowing and choosing good. “Suffragette City” sounds sexy in its own right, talking about a “mellow thighed chick” who “put my [Bowie’s] spine out of place”.

Bowie’s slower songs tell the story of Ziggy Stardust concurrently. “Starman” somehow talks up Ziggy Stardust by bringing some excitement to the lives of average, boring people, while simultaneously removing any culpability from the speaker in the song if he doesn’t show up with lines like “He’d like to come and meet us but he’s afraid he’ll blow our minds.” And then, of course, there are the songs that Bowie seems to have written to himself, “Lady Stardust” and “Ziggy Stardust”. Ziggy, of course, is Bowie’s persona for the album, but it’s in “Lady Stardust”, practically a ballad to himself, when he talks about a long haired rocker with makeup who everyone disapproves of and sings lines such as, “Ooh how I sighed when they asked if I knew his name.” that one truly feels Bowie’s struggle between being some kind of rock god and just a fellow who sometimes makes music and wears interesting clothes.

Finally, of course, in the grand finale, “Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide”, Bowie somewhat ties together all the loose threads. In the span of the song, while also further reflecting on reality vs. fantasy and all the other themes he toyed with in this record, Bowie basically lays the human race out as a bunch of lazy bums clutching to their vices and shortening their already short times, waiting for a Starman who’s not perfect either to save them from themselves. Bowie, though, does not give up hope on humanity. He promises that, even though Ziggy may not be anywhere resembling perfect, he’s still amazing and screams “You’re not alone.” and “You’re wonderful!”, leaving us with hope that everything will turn out hunky dory in the end. 5/5, Starman.