David Bowie Sings Impressions of Bruce Springsteen, Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, Tom Waits & More In Studio Outtakes (1985)

We knew David Bowie could pret­ty much do it all—glam rock, jazz, funk, Philly soul, cabaret, pop, drum and bass, folk, avant-garde, you name it. In front of the cam­era, he could stretch him­self into the beau­ti­ful but wound­ed alien in The Man Who Fell to Earth, the scary-sexy-cool Gob­lin King of Labyrinth, the mys­ti­cal genius Tes­la in The Pres­tige. Noth­ing he attempt­ed seemed beyond his grasp, includ­ing, as you can hear above, off-the-cuff, most­ly spot-on impres­sions of friends and fel­low singers like Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, Tom Waits, and Bruce Spring­steen.

The audio clip you hear comes from out­takes pro­duc­er Mark Saun­ders hap­pened to cap­ture on tape dur­ing the 1985 ses­sions for the Absolute Begin­ners film sound­track (“a bet­ter sound­track than it was a movie!” Saun­ders remarks).

While record­ing a lead vocal, Saun­ders writes, Bowie “broke into the imper­son­ations and I real­ized that these might get erased at some point, so I quick­ly put a cas­sette in and hit ‘record.’” You can read his full rec­ol­lec­tions at The Talk­house in a short essay he wrote to accom­pa­ny the audio—introduced by Zach Stag­gers of indie band the So So Glos, who writes:

Bowie goes through a hand­ful of sung impres­sions, includ­ing but not lim­it­ed to, Bruce Spring­steen, Iggy Pop, Tom Waits, Loud Reed and Antho­ny New­ly, who was such a big influ­ence on the icon­ic singer that the imper­son­ation almost sounds like Bowie mim­ic­k­ing him­self. Between takes you can hear Bowie hav­ing fun and going back and forth with the engi­neers. Jokes.

Bowie also does what sounds like Bob Dylan (or Tom Pet­ty, or Marc Bolan as some have spec­u­lat­ed?) in the sec­ond take and a pass­able Neil Young in the last. His Spring­steen, Reed, and Pop are excel­lent (Bowie called the Iggy impres­sion “dif­fi­cult, he’s some­where between all of them.”)  He clos­es the impromp­tu per­for­mance with “That’s it, night night.”

Bowie did indeed have jokes, though any­one who fol­lowed him over the decades knows of his comedic tal­ents, whether play­ing straight man to Ricky Ger­vais’ obnox­ious super­fan or dis­play­ing impec­ca­ble tim­ing in his dead­pan deliv­ery of “Bowie Secrets” from Late Night With Conan O’Brien in 2002.

Despite the kiss-off he gives Ger­vais in their com­e­dy bit, those who knew and worked with Bowie all tes­ti­fy that he nev­er took him­self too seri­ous­ly or, as Saun­ders remem­bers, threw his weight around by “using a big rock star ‘Hey, I’m David Bowie and I want it done my way.” He may have seemed to many like an alien or a god, but he was appar­ent­ly in per­son a pret­ty hum­ble, and very fun­ny, guy.

via Rolling Stone

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Bowie Per­forms a Live Acoustic Ver­sion of “Heroes,” with a Bot­tle Cap Strapped to His Shoe, Keep­ing the Beat

David Bowie Gives Grad­u­a­tion Speech At Berklee Col­lege of Music: “Music Has Been My Door­way of Per­cep­tion” (1999)

David Bowie (RIP) Sings “Changes” in His Last Live Per­for­mance, 2006

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

David Bowie Lists His 25 Favorite LPs in His Record Collection: Stream Most of Them Free Online

640px-David-Bowie_Chicago_2002-08-08_photoby_Adam-Bielawski

Image by Adam Bielaws­ki, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

This is the kind of thing we usu­al­ly just men­tion on our Twit­ter stream. But per­haps you’re not fol­low­ing us there, and we did­n’t want you to miss this.…

In 2003, David Bowie rum­maged through his col­lec­tion of 2500 vinyl LPs and cre­at­ed a list of his 25 favorite albums for Van­i­ty Fair. The list came pref­aced by these (and oth­er) words:

If you can pos­si­bly get your hands on any of these, I guar­an­tee you evenings of lis­ten­ing plea­sure, and you will encour­age a new high-mind­ed cir­cle of friends, although one or two choic­es will lead some of your old pals to think you com­plete­ly barmy. So, with­out chronol­o­gy, genre, or rea­son, here­with, in no par­tic­u­lar order, 25 albums that could change your rep­u­ta­tion.

Just as eclec­tic as you might expect, the list rec­om­mends every­thing from blues tunes by John Lee Hook­er, min­i­mal­ist com­po­si­tions by Steve Reich, avant garde rock by The Vel­vet Under­ground, elec­tron­ic music by The Elec­trosoniks, psy­che­del­ic folk music by The Incred­i­ble String Band, and the last works of Richard Strauss. You can view a copy of Bowie’s list here (and per­haps cou­ple it with his list of 100 Favorite Books).

And despite his con­cerns about find­ing these albums in sup­ply, you can stream most of his favorite albums for free on Spo­ti­fy using the playlist above. (Yes, we got a lit­tle inspired and pulled it togeth­er.) If you need the soft­ware, down­load it here.

via @stevesilberman

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Bowie’s Top 100 Books

Bri­an Eno Lists 20 Books for Rebuild­ing Civ­i­liza­tion & 59 Books For Build­ing Your Intel­lec­tu­al World

Kurt Cobain Lists His 50 Favorite Albums: Fea­tures LPs by David Bowie, Pub­lic Ene­my & More

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Kraftwerk’s First Concert: The Beginning of the Endlessly Influential Band (1970)

“No, I have not short­ed out or fall­en in love with a cyborg,” insist­ed Robert Christ­gau in his review of Kraftwerk’s 1977 album Trans-Europe Express, which he cred­it­ed with “a sim­ple-mind­ed air of mock-seri­ous fas­ci­na­tion with melody and rep­e­ti­tion” and tex­tures that “sound like par­o­dies by some cos­mic school­boy of every lush syn­the­siz­er surge that’s ever stuck in your gul­let — yet also work the way those surges are sup­posed to work.” To elec­tron­ic music fans, Kraftwerk now have a sta­tus even beyond that of the grand old men of the tra­di­tion, but con­tin­ue to tour the world enthu­si­as­ti­cal­ly (with their own detached, bio­me­chan­i­cal inter­pre­ta­tion of enthu­si­asm), per­form­ing the delib­er­ate­ly tech­no­log­i­cal, some­times star­tling­ly jagged, some­times star­tling­ly rhyth­mic music they invent­ed.

The world got their first taste of it, in an ear­ly exper­i­men­tal form, a few short years before suc­cess­ful and rel­a­tive­ly main­stream Kraftwerk records like Trans-Europe Express or Auto­bahn came along. The group debuted onstage in their native Ger­many (in the town of Soest, to be pre­cise) in the 1970 con­cert cap­tured on video. Watch the gig above, or find it on YouTube. Togeth­er, the footage cap­tures with unex­pect­ed clar­i­ty the avant-gardism of both Kraftwerk’s per­for­ma­tive sen­si­bil­i­ty and tech­no­log­i­cal set­up as well as the reac­tion of the crowd, on the whole more pleased than bewil­dered. Now, in an age where per­form­ers play­ing from lap­tops onstage have become com­mon­place — even Kraftwerk them­selves have joined that rather intro­vert­ed par­ty — it does­n’t seem as strik­ing as all that.

But the genre of “kraut rock” (which All Music Guide describes as made by “legions of Ger­man bands of the ear­ly ’70s that expand­ed the son­ic pos­si­bil­i­ties of art and pro­gres­sive rock,” going in “mechan­i­cal and elec­tron­ic” direc­tions by “work­ing with ear­ly syn­the­siz­ers and splic­ing togeth­er seem­ing­ly uncon­nect­ed reels of tape”) began in a dif­fer­ent real­i­ty — in an era when Christ­gau could still, review­ing a lat­er Kraftwerk album in 1981, write that every time he hears their lyric “ ‘I pro­gram my home computer/Bring myself into the future,’ I want to make a tape for all those zealots who claim a word proces­sor will change my life.”

The com­plete 1970 con­cert is on YouTube here.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

via Side Line/Vice

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Meet the Dr. Who Com­pos­er Who Almost Turned The Bea­t­les’ “Yes­ter­day” Into Ear­ly Elec­tron­i­ca

Mr. Rogers Intro­duces Kids to Exper­i­men­tal Elec­tron­ic Music by Bruce Haack & Esther Nel­son (1968)

Thomas Dol­by Explains How a Syn­the­siz­er Works on a Jim Hen­son Kids Show (1989)

Pio­neer­ing Elec­tron­ic Com­pos­er Karl­heinz Stock­hausen Presents “Four Cri­te­ria of Elec­tron­ic Music” & Oth­er Lec­tures in Eng­lish (1972)

Meet the “Tel­har­mo­ni­um,” the First Syn­the­siz­er (and Pre­de­ces­sor to Muzak), Invent­ed in 1897

Hear Sev­en Hours of Women Mak­ing Elec­tron­ic Music (1938–2014)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

How Old School Records Were Made, From Start to Finish: A 1937 Video Featuring Duke Ellington

We’re mov­ing back in time, before the mp3 play­er and the CD. We’re going back to the ana­log age, a moment when the shel­lac (and lat­er vinyl) record reigned supreme. The month is June 1937. And the short film you’re watch­ing is “Record Mak­ing with Duke Elling­ton and His Orches­tra.”  How the film came into being was described in the July 1937 edi­tion of Melody News:

Last month, a crew of cam­era­men, elec­tri­cians and tech­ni­cians from the Para­mount film com­pa­ny set up their para­pher­na­lia in the record­ing stu­dios of Mas­ter Records, Inc. for the pur­pose of gath­er­ing ‘loca­tion’ scenes for a movie short, now in pro­duc­tion, show­ing how phono­graph records are pro­duced and man­u­fac­tured. Duke Elling­ton and his orches­tra was employed for the stu­dio scenes, with Ivie Ander­son doing the vocals.

Nar­rat­ed by Alois Havril­la, a pio­neer radio announc­er, the film shows you how records were actu­al­ly record­ed, plat­ed and pressed. It’s a great rel­ic from the shellac/vinyl era, which you will want to cou­ple with this 1956 vinyl tuto­r­i­al from RCA Vic­tor.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent

How Vinyl Records Are Made: A Primer from 1956

A Cel­e­bra­tion of Retro Media: Vinyl, Cas­settes, VHS, and Polaroid Too

How to Clean Your Vinyl Records with Wood Glue

How Film Was Made in 1958: A Kodak Nos­tal­gia Moment

 

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Pioneering Electronic Composer Karlheinz Stockhausen Presents “Four Criteria of Electronic Music” & Other Lectures in English (1972)

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Where did mod­ern elec­tron­ic music come from? What­ev­er the genre markers—EDM, house, glitch, dub­step, ambient—any dis­cus­sion of the his­to­ry will inevitably pay homage to a few found­ing names: Bri­an Eno, Kraftwerk, Afri­ka Bam­baataa, syn­the­siz­er inven­tor Robert Moog, Daft Punk’s per­son­al hero Gior­gio Moroder, super­star DJs Lar­ry Lev­an and Frankie Knuck­les… the list could go on. In most main­stream dis­cus­sions, it will often leave out the name Karl­heinz Stock­hausen. And yet, though he decid­ed­ly did not make dance music, no his­to­ry of elec­tron­i­ca writ large is com­plete with­out him, some­thing film­mak­er Iara Lee rec­og­nized when she fea­tured him promi­nent­ly in her 1999 elec­tron­i­ca doc­u­men­tary Mod­u­la­tions.

In an intro­duc­tion to Lee’s tran­scribed inter­view with Stock­hausen, James Wes­ley John­son describes the exper­i­men­tal Ger­man elec­tron­ic com­pos­er and the­o­rist as “his own best spokesman,” for the way he “describes the the­o­ret­i­cal under­pin­nings of his work with a sim­ple clar­i­ty which belies its com­plex­i­ty.”

Try­ing to describe Stock­hausen’s work proves dif­fi­cult, since “he’s always exper­i­ment­ing.” Any­one who thinks they “ ‘know’ what to expect from him,” John­son remarks, is “des­tined to be sur­prised by fur­ther muta­tions.”

Stock­hausen, who died in 2007, began his career as a stu­dent in the 1950s, study­ing under influ­en­tial French com­pos­er Olivi­er Mes­si­aen while devel­op­ing his own con­cept of musi­cal spa­tial­iza­tion. Through­out the fifties and six­ties, he pio­neered live per­for­mance and record­ed com­po­si­tions with tape recorders, micro­phones, ring mod­u­la­tors, Ham­mond Organ, and oth­er ana­log elec­tron­ic devices, along with tra­di­tion­al instru­ments, voice, and musique con­crete tech­niques.

Stock­hausen com­bined—writes Ed Chang at the Stock­hausen blog Sounds in Space—the results of his exper­i­men­ta­tion with the “har­mon­i­cal­ly-lib­er­at­ing meth­ods of the 2nd Vien­nese School (basi­cal­ly Arnold Schön­berg, Alban Berg and Anton Webern, who explored the chro­mat­ic scale through the use of unique ordered tone rows and inter­vals).” This fusion gave rise to the lec­ture at the top of the post, deliv­ered at the Oxford Union in Eng­land on May 6th, 1972, in which Stock­hausen lays out his “Four Cri­te­ria of Elec­tron­ic Music.” They are as fol­lows:

  1. Uni­fied Time Struc­tur­ing
  2. Split­ting of the Sound
  3. Mul­ti-Lay­ered Spa­tial Com­po­si­tion
  4. Equal­i­ty of Sound and Noise

Chang pro­vides a detailed, tech­ni­cal sum­ma­ry of each point. Much more enter­tain­ing, how­ev­er, is watch­ing the eccen­tric and enthu­si­as­tic Stock­hausen elab­o­rate his the­o­ry. “One might ask,” he says at the open­ing of his lec­ture, “why are [the four cri­te­ria] inter­est­ing, as there is elec­tron­ic music, and every­body can make up his mind about what to think about this music?” His answer is clas­sic Stockhausen—cryptic, ellip­ti­cal, intrigu­ing­ly vague yet self-assured:

New means change the method; new meth­ods change the expe­ri­ence, and new expe­ri­ences change man. When­ev­er we hear the sounds we are changed: we are no longer the same after hear­ing cer­tain sounds, and this is the more the case when we hear orga­nized sounds, sounds orga­nized by anoth­er human being: music.

Thus he launch­es into his fascinating—if not always ful­ly comprehensible—theory of music as “orga­nized sound,” with ani­mat­ed ges­tures and sev­er­al exam­ples from his own com­po­si­tion from the late 50s, Kon­tak­te. “Four Cri­te­ria of Elec­tron­ic Music” is the fifth in a long series of lec­tures Stock­hausen deliv­ered in Lon­don that year. If you have any inter­est in music the­o­ry, avant-garde com­po­si­tion, or in how elec­tron­ic music—and hence how our world—came to sound the way it does, you should not miss these. You can watch them all on Youtube (or below) or at Ubuweb. If you can­not sit in front of the screen and watch Stock­hausen’s strange­ly com­pelling deliv­ery, you can also down­load a PDF of a pub­lished ver­sion of “Four Cri­te­ria of Elec­tron­ic Music” at Mono­skop.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Fas­ci­nat­ing Sto­ry of How Delia Der­byshire Cre­at­ed the Orig­i­nal Doc­tor Who Theme

Hear Sev­en Hours of Women Mak­ing Elec­tron­ic Music (1938- 2014)

Meet the “Tel­har­mo­ni­um,” the First Syn­the­siz­er (and Pre­de­ces­sor to Muzak), Invent­ed in 1897

Mr. Rogers Intro­duces Kids to Exper­i­men­tal Elec­tron­ic Music by Bruce Haack & Esther Nel­son (1968)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Dave: The Best Tribute to David Bowie That You’re Going to See

Bel­gian DJs Soul­wax (aka 2ManyDJs) have been blend­ing rock and dance since 1995. You may have heard some of their mashups or remix­es over the years. But in 2012 they cre­at­ed Radio Soul­wax, a com­bi­na­tion app and live expe­ri­ence, and went big with a series of 24 hour-long mix­es, all with accom­pa­ny­ing music videos. The most rel­e­vant to our cur­rent inter­ests, and very much wor­thy of an hour of your time, is their re-mix­tape of David Bowie’s career, called Dave.

In the above video, mod­el Han­nelore Knuts plays a very faith­ful look­ing 1976-era Bowie, nav­i­gat­ing a mys­te­ri­ous hotel in which every room con­tains some recre­ation of a clas­sic (or rare!) Bowie record cov­er, and is laced through­out with sym­bol­ism and nods to the artist’s life and career. It’s a con­ceit that builds through­out this phan­tas­magoric tale into a spec­tac­u­lar, heart­break­ing, and round­ly sat­is­fy­ing pay­off, all the while bol­stered by Radio Soulwax’s clever blends of Bowie’s back cat­a­log, includ­ing rare cuts and cov­ers. (I espe­cial­ly love the mix of “Heroes” of “Absolute Begin­ners,” one of his most famous songs along­side his most under­rat­ed one, which now seem to be flip­sides of the same sto­ry).

A labor of love accord­ing to direc­tor Wim Rey­gaert, the film con­tains oth­er dop­pel­gangers that inter­act with Bowie: William S. Bur­roughs, Iggy Pop, Fred­die Mer­cury, Lulu, Tony Vis­con­ti, John Lennon, and rock pho­tog­ra­ph­er Andy Kent all make an appear­ance, along with numer­ous Bowie incar­na­tions. Of all the trib­utes to the Thin White Duke out there in the last week, this is one of the few that will ful­ly assuage the soul. Check it out.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Bowie & Bri­an Eno’s Col­lab­o­ra­tion on “Warsza­wa” Reimag­ined in Com­ic Ani­ma­tion

David Bowie Recalls the Strange Expe­ri­ence of Invent­ing the Char­ac­ter Zig­gy Star­dust (1977)

David Bowie Releas­es 36 Music Videos of His Clas­sic Songs from the 1970s and 1980s

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

Attention K‑Mart Shoppers: Hear 90 Hours of Background Music & Ads from the Retail Giant’s 1980s and 90s Heyday

Back in high school, I worked part-time at the Gap, a job that, for all its dis­com­forts — the late-night restock­ing, the Sisyphean fold­ing and re-fold­ing, those head­sets — real­ly only left a bit­ter mem­o­ry because of the music. Each month, the store received a new disc of back­ground shop­ping sound­track, but only an hour-long sound­track, to be played on loop over over and over again, and so to be heard by me six or sev­en times per shift. Need­less to say, the start of a new month, and, with this, the arrival of a new mix of bland pop hits, felt like a sal­va­tion.

This sort of pro­gram­mat­ic musi­cal engi­neer­ing already had plen­ty of prece­dent by that point, as thor­ough­ly doc­u­ment­ed by Mark Davis, who spent the late 1980s and ear­ly 1990s work­ing at K‑Mart’s cus­tomer ser­vice desk and — per­haps fore­see­ing both the future ease of shar­ing audio­vi­su­al mate­ri­als over the inter­net and the waves of nos­tal­gia for the recent past that ease would enable — pock­et­ed all the shopp­ping-sound­track cas­sette tapes that passed through his hands, build­ing the impres­sive col­lec­tion you can see in the video above.

“Until around 1992, the cas­settes were rotat­ed month­ly,” writes Davis. “Then, they were replaced week­ly. Final­ly some­time around 1993, satel­lite pro­gram­ming was intro­duced which elim­i­nat­ed the need for these tapes alto­geth­er. The old­er tapes con­tain canned ele­va­tor music with instru­men­tal ren­di­tions of songs. Then, the songs became com­plete­ly main­stream around 1991. All of them have adver­tise­ments every few songs. The month­ly tapes are very, very, worn and rip­pled. That’s because they ran for 14 hours a day, 7 days a week on auto-reverse.”

The high­ly delib­er­ate, near-fric­tion­less mild­ness; the inter­spersed spo­ken-word adver­tise­ments and their hyp­not­i­cal­ly repet­i­tive empha­sis on low, low prices; the wob­ble and hiss of the bat­tered record­ing media; all of it adds up to a lis­ten­ing expe­ri­ence his­tor­i­cal­ly and aes­thet­i­cal­ly like no oth­er. (If you enjoy this sort of thing and haven’t yet heard of the move­ment called “vapor­wave,” hie thee to Google, look it up, and pre­pare for aston­ish­ment.) You can hear over 90 hours of it at Atten­tion K‑Mart Shop­pers, Davis’ dig­i­tized repos­i­to­ry of his cas­settes at the Inter­net Archive.

If you have any mem­o­ries of shop­ping at K‑Mart twen­ty to thir­ty years ago, these tapes may bring on a rush of Prous­t­ian rec­ol­lec­tion. But not all of them scored the aver­age shop­ping day. One, for exam­ple, came just for play on March 1st, 1992, K‑Mart’s 30th anniver­sary. “This was a spe­cial day at the store where employ­ees spent all night set­ting up for spe­cial pro­mo­tions and extra excite­ment. It was a real fun day, the store was packed wall to wall, and I recall that the stores were asked to play the music at a much high­er vol­ume,” a pro­gram which includ­ed “oldies and all sorts of fun facts from 1962.” Final­ly, a way to feel nos­tal­gia for one era’s nos­tal­gia of anoth­er era. How’s that for a 21st-cen­tu­ry expe­ri­ence?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

As Benev­o­lent Dic­ta­tor, Vladimir Nabokov Would Abol­ish Muzak & Bidets: What Would Make Your List?

Why We Love Rep­e­ti­tion in Music: Explained in a New TED-Ed Ani­ma­tion

Woody Allen Lives the “Deli­cious Life” in Ear­ly-80s Japan­ese Com­mer­cials

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Watch David Bowie & Annie Lennox in Rehearsal, Singing “Under Pressure,” with Queen (1992)


It’s com­mon to feel like we know our artists, writ­ers, musi­cians, actors… we want so bad­ly to touch their lives in some way, as their lives touch ours. This over­whelm­ing desire is respon­si­ble for a huge mar­ket share of our mass media, from the most taste­less tabloid hit jobs to the most respect­ful long­form essays. Since David Bowie’s pass­ing, we’ve seen no short­age of the lat­ter, and thank­ful­ly lit­tle of the for­mer.

Vul­ture has col­lect­ed some of the best of these online trib­ute arti­cles and obit­u­ar­ies, and one in particular—Judy Berman’s “We Always Knew Who David Bowie Real­ly Was”—has res­onat­ed with me. Berman cuts through “all the clichés about how he was a chameleon or a shape-shifter or opaque or unknow­able” and shows some of the ways Bowie made him­self inti­mate­ly avail­able in his work.

Bowie’s self-rev­e­la­tion by way of the­atrics and cos­tume changes resem­bles the less intel­lec­tu­al, more emo­tion­al, vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty of his friend and col­lab­o­ra­tor Fred­die Mer­cury. Just as musi­cians around the world cel­e­brate, and mourn, Bowie now, he per­formed a sim­i­lar ser­vice for Mer­cury 24 years ago at Lon­don’s Wem­b­ley Sta­di­um for an audi­ence of 72,000 peo­ple, along with the remain­ing mem­bers of Queen and a full ros­ter of super­stars. Bowie did four songs in total, but the most poignant was cer­tain­ly “Under Pres­sure,” which he’d com­posed with Mer­cury 11 years ear­li­er. The song became, of course, a mas­sive hit (twice over, thanks to Vanil­la Ice’s appro­pri­a­tion). It’s wrench­ing lyrics also gave us yet more insight into Bowie’s per­son­al­i­ty: his fears, his sense, as Berman writes, “of how fleet­ing and insignif­i­cant one human life is in the grand scheme of the uni­verse,” and his defi­ance in the face of that knowl­edge.

In the video at the top of the post, you can see Bowie, Annie Lennox, John Dea­con, Roger Tay­lor, and Bri­an May rehears­ing “Under Pres­sure” for the Mer­cury trib­ute, with an audi­ence of just them­selves and a few crew peo­ple. Bowie has one of his regret­tably ubiq­ui­tous cig­a­rettes in hand and an enor­mous grin on his face as he watch­es Lennox belt out Mer­cury’s parts. The per­for­mance on show day, above, is pow­er­ful and pitch per­fect, but the loose, infor­mal rehearsal footage is more of a treat for those of us eager for as much of the unguard­ed Bowie as we can get. For even more stripped-down, behind-the-scenes Bowie, lis­ten to an a cap­pel­la ver­sion of “Under Pres­sure” with Mer­cury, and learn all about how that song came to be.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lis­ten to Fred­die Mer­cury and David Bowie on the Iso­lat­ed Vocal Track for the Queen Hit ‘Under Pres­sure,’ 1981

The Mak­ing of Queen and David Bowie’s 1981 Hit “Under Pres­sure”: Demos, Stu­dio Ses­sions & More

David Bowie and Cher Sing Duet of “Young Amer­i­cans” and Oth­er Songs on 1975 Vari­ety Show

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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