David Bowie: An in-depth look at the illusion
Lisa Robinson • Hit Parader • August, September 1976
(originally published in edited form by New Musical Express, 7 March)
"Bowie's back, David's great, the show is just
a straight rock and roll show, he's in such good health, my interview
with David was fabulous. All this and more I heard prior to departing
for LA and Phoenix where I was to talk to Bowie for the first time
in nearly five years, and to see his current stage show. It had
been arranged for me to 1) watch him tape the Dinah Shore TV show;
2) catch his final sold out show at the LA Forum; and 3) Interview
the Artiste in Phoenix several days later. I went with mixed feelings,
no illusions, few expectations. I was amused that he was showing
Un Chien Andalou before his concert, how naive, in a way. David
would later agree with me that he is naive, and proud of it. If
one views the journalistic / reportage process as confrontation.
We perhaps came out even. There is an honesty about David these
days even though it really can't be described as refreshing. It
is as carefully acted out as anything he's ever done, and as such,
the face of David Bowie presented to me that week was who David
Bowie decided to be, February 1976. He's clever, totally aware of
his persona, and there's a very determined gleam in his eyes these
The Dinah Shore Show audience was a mixed lot. Housewives
with blue-hair who wait in line to be a part, somehow, of Hollywood
"show business". More teenagers than usual, no doubt because of
David's presence as well as that of Henry "Fonzie" Winkler - star
sensation of TV series Happy Days. The warmup man comes out in
bright orange turtleneck sweater and beige polyester leisure suit,
hits us with raps like "We get some nutty audiences on this show
folks … we want you to scream, applaud, just do your own thing
… just got back from Lost Wages … yuk, yuk, yuk… "
"Didja see Day-veee?," shrieks a maniac blond groupie
who has followed him everywhere. "Angela wanted to be here," whispered
the publicist, "but she's home cooking for a dinner party they're
having later with Alice Cooper and Ray Bradbury."
Dinah comes out,
is introduced to the audience, she's a total pro. The show starts
… "and here's someone considered by many to be one of the most
influential people in the rock spectrum!!" Pix of Bowie flash on
the screen; the Ziggy patterned jumpsuit, the long striped sock,
the pink jockstrap, the white suit … about fifty teenagers in
the audience scream as a screen is raised and There He Is. Standing
on (what else?) a pedestal, dressed simply in black baggy trousers,
blue velour pullover. Shock of orange, slick backed hair (sort of
like Bryan Ferry, circa 1973).
His band stands behind him, Carlos
Alomar, Dennis Davis, George Murray, Stacey Heydon & Tony Kaye
on keyboards (a dead ringer for Rodney Bingenheimer). David sings
'Stay', and out of camera range co-hosts Nancy Walker (who resembles
an older Bette Midler and is beloved here as Rhoda TV mother)
and "Fonzie" Winkler tap their toes. Actually, The Fonz is really
getting into it, doing sort of funky chicken things with his head.
Dave does little disco steps, he looks great.
The song over, he sits down with Dinah to "rap".
Dinah: How do you feel when you hear those screams?
Dave: It's my drummer, actually…
Dinah: You give so much of yourself…
Dave: Well no, actually I always think I should do
it again. (They would have to repeat the first number again at the
end of the show in fact, due to some technical problem.)
More photos of our boy flash on the screen, big white
suit, red suspenders, blue and white polka dot sweater. Dinah elicits
remarks from David: "Oh that one, I was living in New York at the
time and was influenced by a lot of Puerto Rican clothing… " then
(GASP) "I steal from everybody, you know," he admits.
David is in total control, still fey, the poseur,
affected … but nevertheless, in control. A far cry from the heavy
sniffing and mumbled, rambling answers a la his last memorable TV
appearance - Dick Cavett.
Dinah presses further re influences: "Well," says
David, "one of my favorite English bands at the moment is Roxy Music
… Bryan Ferry"…
Commercial break, switch to Bowie on the couch sipping
tea with Dinah, Nancy and Fonzie. "I have never seen David perform
before," Nancy Walker says earnestly, "he's beautiful. But you know
I was brought up on Cole Porter, Rogers and Hart… " "Hoagy Carmichael,"
David offers. "David, you're a puzzle to many people," says Dinah,
"there are a lot of David Bowies, but is there really only one David
"Well, I started as a painter," Bowie replies," but
I was a natural ham. Rock and roll is a superb way of releasing
that. I still act the songs rather than sing them. If the French
can get away with it, I figure so can I."
"It's the policy of the self-invented man," he continues.
"You strip down all the things you don't like about yourself. One
thing I didn't like was being very shy. So if I gave myself an alarming
reputation, then I'd be faced to defend it."
Fonzie plugs a T-shirt he's had made with his likeness,
brags that he has only 1200 of them. "I'd rather have a T-shirt
that six million people would wear, wouldn't you really?" David
Dinah: "You know David, we all often do interviews
and put people on, but I read where you said - and now I've met
your lovely wife Angela - you said 'I've never been in love, thank
David: "I have a vast capacity to love, but he one
time I found myself failing in love it was obsessive in a way. The
thing about putting a person on a pedestal, it's like what people
search for in God."
Dinah: "Don't you miss the passions of being in love?"
David: "I think there are passions of loving someone."
This sort of scintillating conversation continued,
I mean it's all very well and good for straight, middle American
afternoon TV audiences, but wasn't giving me a clue as to where
David's head was at all except, (and this is important) he was trying
terribly hard to be professional, polite, and proper. I'll bet they
still thought he was a freak. An endless discussion continued as
to whether Being In Love Is More Meaningful Than Loving Someone
(and having to say you're sorry … )
"You've said," Dinah continued, "that if you were
an original thinker, you would' not be in rock and roll." "Oh yes,"
smiles David. "But rock and roll has been very good to you," she
says. "I've been good for rock and roll," he says.
At the end of the show David sang 'Five Years' straight
into the camera, tight closeup on his face. That same song, the
same face that was in closeup about five years ago when he was on
BBC-TV's Old Grey Whistle Test. It was riveting, knocked me out
then, and it did now. Perfect, I thought, he's finally gotten around
to stealing from himself.
"I think with this stage show," David would tell
me later, "I've put myself in a position of being more like the
real David Bowie the audience has wanted. This show is more bisexual,
more theatrical than anything I've ever done, I think. Ostensibly
because it's the most real show I've done. Now I can start work."
Elton John swept into the Forum backstage area
dressed in brown. He's taken a few hours out of rest and hiding
in LA to pay his respects, but he doesn't stay long at the concert
when his presence begins to attract too much audience attention.
In the audience are Linda (it wouldn't be a rock concert without)
Blair, David Hockney (who's had a busy week, attending parties for
the Spinners, and the Pretty Things), Christopher Isherwood ("Can
you imagine??" Angela Bowie gasped after the show, "CHRISTOPHER
ISHERWOOD! My idol!!") and Henry "Fonzie" Winkler.
The taped music of Kraftwerk can be heard over the
loudspeaker. "Radioactivity for you and me," croons writer Cameron
Crowe. What a camp David is, I think. Fashionable fascism. Then,
right before the screening of "Un Chien Andalou" Carole King treks
up the aisle with new hippie boyfriend in tow. "You wouldn't believe how crazy it is down there," she shrieks to a friend in her very
best Brooklyn yenta voice. I cannot believe how, with all her money,
she is wearing a three dollar Indian shmatah. Cameron Crowe cannot
believe I say this. She does however, seem very young, and glowingly
And so, David screens Un Chien Andalou for all
his 17-year-old fans who have not had the opportunity to study the
surrealist classic film in college yet. The eye-cutting scene goes
over big, but the rest of the twenty minutes causes the crowd to
become mighty restless. And so at last, when Bowie comes onstage
casually, singing 'Station to Station', there is a huge roar, and
everyone stands up.
As the show has been reviewed in these pages at length
by Ben Edmonds, I'll just add these observations: I didn't much
care for the band; too loud, too funky, too much bottom. My seat
was reverberating throughout the entire show, and it was not a pleasant
sensation. 'Waiting for the Man' doesn't really work; trying to
sing it as a sultry, nightclubby kind of number isn't right. Perhaps
only a few who have really been there can sing Lou Reed's lyrics;
even if he wouldn't agree with me, Patti Smith can. But David's
new show - with the stark, spare stage lit by hot, white neon lights
is theatrical. Perhaps more theatrical than any that have preceded
it, because he is creating the illusion that it is real – just A
Man and His Music. But make no mistake, this is a show, not a concert.
Just because he's wearing a simple white shirt, black vest, black
baggy trousers, instead of a long striped sock or a pink jockstrap
doesn't make it any less of a stage act.
Bowie moves onstage like an actor, a film actor who
knows that standing still in front of a camera often commands more
attention. The entire production from the Kraftwerk, to Un Chien
Andalou, to the black and white, is all sort of like a film David's
directed himself. It's focused, and the focus is definitely on the
Star. No more cute guitarists to go down on, no more shoving the
band to the side of the stage in an attempt to be visually rid of
them (that just pointed out there was a problem with them in the
first place). This band stands behind Bowie but could just as easily
be behind a curtain. It's fine to hire "excellent musicians", but
conceptually, visually, these people have nothing at all to do with
Bowie. ("Do you consider this to be your band?" I would ask him
later. "Oh no … they'll all probably wander off after the tour
and go back to James Brown or wherever they came from," he replied.
"I really don't know them … I mean, I know Carlos… ") One thing
I do love in the show is when David stands to the side of the stage
during the instrumental solos, nodding his head as if he's digging them. Aside from admiring such fine acting, it makes one long for
the star's speedy return to center stage. Don't think David doesn't
But I'm a sucker for the more familiar, rock and
roll numbers like 'Suffragette City', 'Jean Genie', 'Changes', 'Rebel
Rebel', so for me, they are the most successful songs in the show.
Strangely enough, he's left out 'Young Americans' and 'Golden Years'
but mercifully has perhaps put Space Oddity to rest forever.
(At this point Carole King gets hassled by the usher
… he tried to get her out of her seat and she has to sit on her
boyfriend's lap. They leave soon thereafter and I notice that he
is wearing a fur purse tied on a leather string around his hips.)
David added Diamond Dogs to the shows in LA; he
had forgotten the words but Cameron Crowe found them for him and
he learned it in time. The show lasts about one and a half hours,
which is fine, and after much cheering and lighting of matches (can
you imagine going to a concert anymore and not have that happen?
It's such rote, fascism indeed… ) he returns to say, "We're touring
the world, and I won't see you for … oh … a year, so we'll leave
you with this" - a great 'Rebel Rebel'.
In the dressing room after the show David chats
quietly with Hockney and Isherwood. Upstairs in a "press" room,
Linda Blair, Mark Volman, Henry "Fonzie" Winkler, John Baldry -
all wait for an appearance David never makes. Eric Barrett is complimented
on his lighting: "Well," he smiled," we never had the money to
do it properly before."
It is perhaps important here to note that I hadn't
spoken (and that might be with a capital H, capital S) to Bowie
in nearly five years. While I had never been threatened with receiving
a block of cement a la Nick Kent, there was some hostility and there
were definite Problems Between Us. Partially encouraged by a variety
of music business entanglements and certainly led on, to some degree
by various elements of the MainMan Organization, it was felt that
I "didn't understand" his true genius, that I dished him, as it
Whatever, I was by now sufficiently intrigued with
Bowie as master illusionist - I mean he had managed to work within
the context of rock star successfully for six years now, proving
that Fooling Some of the People Some of the Time was all right,
and I had many questions to ask.
Wouldn't you know it would be a full moon in Phoenix,
and when I arrived in Bowie's suite (a reasonable facsimile of a
suite, as much as one could expect in the Double Tree Inn, in Phoenix,
Arizona … town where Alice Cooper and The Tubes went to high school
together.) - omigod, Iggy was in the room. Bright white hair, red
jumpsuit, and the same lovable, crooked grin. A perfect surrealist
setting guaranteed to throw me off guard. David, in Real Life, looks
like something that just stepped out of a movie, that is if one
calls an interview situation real life. He is wearing blue jeans,
a blue plaid shirt, and looks stunning.
While there are only three or four people "around"
him now, Bowie still manages to elicit from them the same kind
of whispered overprotectiveness that he used to get from some
twenty MainMan employees. (This happens often, usually it is the
star that wants it that way, but some do manage to have more easygoing
people working for them. Alice Cooper, for one, is always treated
as a human being, there is an easy air around him. Mick Jagger attempts
to have people work for him who will not treat him like Prince Charles.
Jimmy Page has some staffers who treat him gingerly, others are
not above throwing a pie in his face. People tiptoe around Keith
Richard, he hardly seems aware of it. Carole King and Joni Mitchell
and Neil Young Do Not Do Interviews. John Lennon can be a regular
guy. And so on.) With Bowie and me, there was an Air Of Tension
to be broken; the presence of the publicist throughout our encounter
did not help me to relax much.
And so, David, are you enjoying this tour now that
you're doing it, are you interested in the process of appearing
before 18,000 people on a stage??
"No, I'm a little bored now,"
David admits. "I guess I'll have to change the show around, maybe
just the order of songs. I definitely left some numbers out like
'Time', Space Oddity, precisely for the reason that I'd rather
the energy level come from the eye line, rather than an association
with any particular piece of theater. I'm doing a lot of unknown
songs, which is hard for the audience, so I've compromised and put
a few of the more familiar ones in."
"No, I'm not interested in … good lord, of course,
I'm doing it for the money. I'm only really playing to about three
thousand people. I wouldn't know if the rest of the place was empty.
I mean it sounds loud, but I can only see about three thousand people.
It would have been nice to do it at the Tower (in Philadelphia)
and places like that, but then I wouldn't have made any money."
I ask about R&B, of all people... how did he
become involved with it in his music.
"Well if you played my records
to somebody who was brought up on R&B they'd laugh in your
face." (I didn't say it was good R&B, mind you … also, 'TVC15'
sounds a lot like Otis Redding's 'Hucklebuck'.) "Really?" - eyes
wide. "It sounds more like Elvis' 'Girl Went Walking' to me. I know
the 'Hucklebuck', intimately … that's why I know that the music
I play is nothing like R&B."
"As for this album, it's a good album, I like it.
I wish I'd done it differently though. I compromised in the mixing;
I wanted to do a dead mix. It should have been a dry mix. All the
way through, no echo. All the way through the making of the album
I was telling myself I'd do a dry mix. And I gave in, I gave in
and added that extra commercial touch. I wish, I wish … I wish
You've said that you don't consider yourself a musician.
"No one else would deny that," he laughed.
But you've managed to
write at least one great rock and roll song every year for the past
"Incredible sort of luck and very sort of shrewd mercenary
attitude got me that far."
Isn't it hard to write a good rock and
"Not if you're desperate enough. And not if you passionately
want to be a rock and roll star and be lionized and have eulogies
written about yourself. Then you write a bloody good song. And if
you don't, then you're not going to be a rock and roll star."
"I never said I was a rock star. At any time. If
I'm a rock star, then I'm a rock star despite myself. I just wanted
to be good old David Bowie."
"I'm not in rock and roll, I never thought of this
as a 'career', it's my own field. Not in rock and roll, never have
been, refuse to be dragged into it. It's been an enlightenment,
and every enjoyable to do, but now I'm wondering what to do."
When did you first realize that you had a voice?
"Well," he laughs, "a voice, yes … and hope you could get away
with it and when it becomes sort of established as an archetypal
voice, of that particular type, then it's considered that you have
a voice. I sort of did it all hopping on one foot, hoping that I'd
Now really, all this wide eyed innocence, all this
chance stuff doesn't convince me one bit … I mean you always were
at least a half step ahead of many others, you wore what felt right
at the time. I remind David that when I saw him in February 1972,
at his birthday party and he made an entrance wearing the gray patterned
Ziggy jumpsuit and red vinyl boots, he said then that he hadn't
seen Clockwork Orange. Yet, he looked the way that felt.
I knew that everybody had seen Jason and the Argonauts, and knew
about the Harpies, and that was the most outstanding hairstyle I
had every seen. I suppose I followed my own indulgences to such
an extent that it created a field of its own.
"I feel thoroughly responsible for the state of rock
and roll … As Mick once said, the grandfather … of glitter king
rock," he laughs. (A laugh, by the way, is a performance. The eyes
flash, the head is artfully tossed back, the grin is lovely. It
is then that I notice the teeth. Nice new ones?
"What? These? They're
my same old fangs."
I thought everyone at MainMan had new teeth.
"I was never at MainMan," David replies with a wicked gleam
in his eye as the publicist holds her breath, "and I couldn't afford
new teeth, I was so busy paying for everybody else's." Everyone
breaks up, this perhaps, has broken the ice at last. "No … they're
the same old corroded ones… ")
Continuing the other train of thought, David says,
"I was never the glitter king. I just sort of opened up … it was
a breaking down of structures. Not very drastically, but it was
some sort of token acknowledgment to the avant garde. And it went
along from there."
"I would hate to be considered that I was put up
against other people in rock, goods heavens, no. If I was in it
for that kind of reason then I've failed dismally. But to be able
to do it for this long, to preserve and enjoy it, I think is wonderful
fun, and I think it's hard. The biggest joy in rock and roll is
sort of to be able to acknowledge everybody else's talent and be
a fan and get by and make a living at the same time … It's terrific."
Are you a fan?
"Well, the people in it, not it. The
personas. It'll do until I can start directing films. I wish I could
direct a show. My perfect gig would be to take all the people I
like and drag them onstage. I'd like to direct their shows. I can't
do that, so I do mine. But if I could, I'd do what I'd tell them
to do … My albums … most of them I think are too naive. I even
thought so at the time. That's one of the most amazing things about
rock and roll, apart from any message or statement or whatever,
the thing that people really, really have empathy with is the naivete.
And that's why I feel so at home with it. In art generally, the
most loving factor of any art form is the naivete. It's nice to
know that behind the callous, cold, iceman cometh Bowie that really
he's probably pretty uncertain about what he's doing. I think that
is poignant, and very tender. I'm a good synthetic. I'm really the first
synthetic rock artist. There is no other. Everyone else sort of keeps the faith. I try
and keep the counters. I'm very good at that. I'm even better than.
. Oh, you fill that in."
So when did you first discover The Grand Illusion?
"Seeing my brother do coin tricks - making them
disappear. Then seeing him do it in front of other people, and seeing
their faces. Sixpences appearing under the pillow if you put a tooth
under it. That kind of thing."
Tell me about The Man Who Fell To Earth.
"It's a good film. Working with Nicolas (Roeg)
was a classic experience. It was one of the more important experiences
that I've ever had - not on a film level, on another level that
I can't explain in such a brief meeting. He has a depth, and a quality as a human being
that I admire - and tried to wallow in a much as possible, actually.
Tried to soak it up and hope that I took a little of it with me.
An excellent man, fabulous.
"Yes… I know where my baskets, and my eggs
are, dear." Flash of the eyes, toss of the head, laughter.
Bowie suddenly says, "Oh do put that thing down,
my love," (referring to the tape recorder I'm holding), "I mean
I don't mind it, but… no matter how many of these things I've
done, I'm not in my element.
"I wish I could stay with someone for three
weeks, and the sort of… I mean I always feel that afterwards
I've done a sorry job. You know, 'Oh, did I tell them enough about
myself', 'were they impressed enough', 'do they know I'm a man of
many talents'… it's really tiresome.
"Oh well, we've all got our props. You've got
that machine, I've got this bottle of beer today."
Then he says: "I wish I was a farmer."
"Something wholesome and invigorating." he laughs.
Which reminds me … Lou Reed.
"To be honest, I haven't heard the last two
albums. I heard Metal Machine Music, he brought it over. But hmmm,
Edgar Froese I like. Oh dear, this is going to sound like I'm dropping
the ultimate unknown names.
"I mean, who do I like? Christ, it all stinks
in general. Eno - I quite like Eno. I'd like him to be in lggy's
band, actually. How gauche. No, actually, I'm getting lggy an all-black
band of ex-basketball players.
"I like Bryan Ferry. He's much better than I
am as a writer, I've not seen him onstage for a while, but I thought
he had the makings of a good film actor… I'd love to direct him
in a film.'
"I think he's the most talented thing to come
out of England, whether he knows it or not. I think oh, he's going
to hate this but I think he should lose his band. Quickly. They're
holding him back in this country, and he better be fast…
"Bryan, dear. There's nobody else."
Tell me about love, David.
"Oh, they're all so sex mad here." More laughter.
"It's all they want to talk about."
No - the religious stuff you were on about on Dinah
"Well, if I started to preach and spout what I really
believed in I would be off the program in fifteen minutes. Pure
boredom, and I can never find the words for it anyway.
"I'm terribly emotional. I'm everything. I'm spiteful,
I'm tedious, then warm and loving and such great company … debonair
and charming and a horror. I go off at the mouth and get very tyrannical
and then again I'm very philosophical, with my heads in the clouds.
"Heads," he laughs, "now there's the sign of a schizophrenic… 'got
my heads in the cloud'… and I want to keep all those. Anyone
wants to take those away from me I'll sue 'em.
"I'm getting used to suing people."
When you look back on your projects, do you feel
that they're incomplete? Have you ever felt that's it, you've got
"No. I can't even brush my teeth without feeling
that I haven't done a good job. I always wish I could do it again… ."
When did you first look into the mirror and realise
that you were good looking, honey?
"When I was a couple of weeks old." He laughs loudly.
"I'm sorry … I don't know … ahhhhh, I do remember. I'm not
telling you though. (Laughs) I was naked at the time. Then I got
'round to looking at my face …
"I'd be scared stiff if I ever felt that one of my
projects had been totally right, complete," he continues, seriously.
"I would be unbearable if I was at that stage, as a person. Wouldn't
I just? I mean wouldn't anybody? If they got to the stage where
they thought that everything they did was the cat's asshole … "
What do you think when you look back on your various
stages - all those costumes?
"How embarrassing. Actually, it's only embarrassing
after about the second or third year. The third year when it came
out of being cliche to archetype. Then it started looking good again.
"There was a point where you go through all this
haziness about 'God, that's the most dreadful thing I've ever seen
in my life, how on earth did I wear it', then you go past that and
think, 'how incredibly right I was'.
"It was so tentative all the way through, and looking
back on it, I remember a photo. Of the four of us - the Spiders
- at a table at an RCA press reception. Four photos of really scared
little boys wearing funny clothes, and stark light - in fact, that's
where I got the idea of bringing back the old Bertolt Brecht lighting.
It was so rivetingly news. It looked like news, I looked like a
"Yes, this is the popular music social condition.
This is what popular music felt like, not what it looked like, but
what it felt like. This dressup and these faces, all looking out
… and the photos were taken right in front of them so it was
like boom, boom, boom - big pictures of pretty David Bowie in the
back, then these four creatures sitting there, absolutely riveting.
"And that's when I realised just how good it was.
Not just it, or me, but the thing - what actually went down. That
was what it was all about. It was a film, it really was.
"It's now a long time ago, 1972. And I can now be
arrogant and self-pleasing enough about it to look back on it and
know that I did what I had intended to do. Which was bringing a
"Whether I was responsible for it or not, I was at
least a spearhead. To recognize, and be able to adopt a position
where I would be able to drag it through, makes me feel good.
"I've said this elsewhere, but I feel that my contribution
to rock-and roll is all done. That was it, creating a whole era,
by being responsible, by being the one to take the plunge. If I
had really fucked up, it would have been dismal … where would
it have gone??
"If I hadn't come over here in 1969 wearing that
dress, what would have happened? I mean Alice wouldn't have dressed
up - they were a punk band at the time, with a great name. With
lyrics all about street fighting.
"Alice and I are very close now, we had dinner the
other night. Isn't that lovely," he beams, "having dinner with these
people. Because now I do feel like their grandfather. I tell them
what to do.
"I never had any competition. Except Marc Bolan,
back in England. I had to find somebody I would have friction with,
somebody I could compete with, just to get me off the ground. Someone
that would give me motivation to do the thing in the first place.
"So Marc was perfect; a friend, gets there before
me. I fought like a madman to beat him. Knowing theoretically there
was no race. But wanting passionately to do it.
"Now of course Marc and I are best friends. He's
one of my closest friends actually… he's the funniest person
I know. I never laugh so much we're gloriously silly when
we're together, you wouldn't recognize either of us. It's lovely,
"There are some people in rock and roll who are really
nice. They relax with me. I don't think they expect somebody to
intimidate them as much as I often do. Not purposely, but I have
learned how to relax a lot in the past couple of years. And I understand
my position and I'm very proud of it, and I think it helps others
to relax with me because I know what it is all about.
"I know everything about this business, though how
good I am at some aspects of it I don't know. But I know it thoroughly,
intimately. And other people no longer have to be anything …
and they become different, they don't talk to other people the way
they do with me, they open up and bring out these amazing things
about themselves. It's fantastic."
The Media, David. Tell me about The Media.
"Oh they're absolute idiots. Well have to get in
there and blast open films, television, whatever. Most of it will
be done by reversed infiltration and seemingly pandering to a particular
aspect, then blowing it apart when you have the position, reputation,
prestige, to do that.
To change the media, you've got to own it first,
"I've ripped off Picture newspaper, I think it's
very good. Good old Andy, he was right, wasn't he? A newspaper with
"I want to bring that out again. Absolutely identical
to Picture newspaper, but with different pictures. Mostly of me,
at first, until it starts selling. And a lot of whoever's popular
at the time.
"And slip in a few things … William Burroughs,
"But if I might add eulogy to eulogy, I think the
whole theatrical, elusive quality of what's gone down has been the
most cutting thing. To cut the shit. It has, and it will - mark
my words - produce a new kind of truthfulness.
"Stark. I mean it's stark, for me it's Man Ray … "
Are you putting me on? You know that Richard Robinson
and Lenny Kaye formed a band in 1969 called Man Ray. All black and
"Oh, that's incredible. But of course, you know that
… And the object of my getting around to doing that, to bringing
it there … how can you bring it there until you produce an
extreme of the opposite psychic movement?
"You can't come out of Dylan into black and white.
No way. There's no friction, To cause an art movement, you have
to set something up and then destroy it. The whole rock culture
has become so self-important that is doesn't realise its incredible
strength comes from finding cliches.
"It is now looking for an archetype first; it's looking
for a new Dylan, it's looking for a new Lou Reed. It's looking for
a new something to prove that it really is a culture. It won't get
excited by great mediocrity, because it doesn't understand itself.
"And the only thing to do is what the Dadaists, the
surrealists did; complete amateurs who are pretentious as hell and
just fuck it up the arse. Cause as much bad, ill feeling as possible,
and then you've got a chance of having a movement.
"But you'll only create a movement when you have
a rebellious cause, and you can't have any rebellious cause when
you're the most well loved person in the country.
"What you've got there is… well, a chance of
being the most well loved person in the country."
David wants to play me a tape he's done with lggy.
It's fabulous, very tense.
Iggy's voice is amazing, I note.
"Of course," Bowie smiles, pleased. "Why do you think
he keeps coming back to me? Iggy's amazing. He really has nothing
to do with rock and roll, he's in it by accident. He's just the
You must save him, I say to Bowie, with a smile on
my face but meaning it. He grasps my hand, nods emphatically. Accompanies
me to the door, and in the most charming way, thanks me for coming.
Basically all art, Bowie feels, is a process of destroying
what was set up before. So it was with this interview, in a way.
I had no desire to find the real David Bowie. I fully
accept that he is whoever he wants to be at the moment, and adapts
totally to whoever he's talking to.
At the end of All About Eve, Phoebe the girl
who has idolised Eve Harrington, played chillingly by Anne Baxter
dons Eve's long silver cape, picks up her Sarah Siddons Award,
and looks into a three-way mirror.
Hundreds of her own images look out at her, and one
feels that director Joseph Mankiewicz is telling us that there are
thousands of them out there.
I keep feeling that there must have been a time when
David Bowie looked into a three-way mirror and saw how many David
Bowies there could be. He's only just begun.