David Bowie
Pin-Ups

THE REVIEW

THE ALIENS LEAVE DUE TO MANIFEST INCAPACITY

The freezing cold has arrived! And it's also Monday! I can only cope with the knowledge that the Christmas break is coming, which, apart from Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Year's, St. Stephen's Day, Epiphany, … isn’t that bad: you can stay at home and listen to Sandinista from start to finish since there is plenty of time. With these thoughts in mind, I return from work.

Since it’s not Friday, I don’t expect any space surprises but they’re there, in the living room, under the giant photograph of Maestro David who silences everyone from atop the wall next to the stereo, and they’re whispering among themselves. Strangely clear, in their communication, they emit a hum reminiscent of early electric razors, what were they called?? Ahhh Ronson! Ronson!?!? I bet the analogy was telepathically induced by this pair of degenerate aliens!

I warn them immediately, if you want to listen to and/or talk about the Duke, know that, for me, Bowie is not a musical passion, no. For me, he is a brother, a friend, a spiritual father, a life teacher dispensing a thousand doubts and few certainties.

My personal story is similar to that of millions of people who encountered Bowie's music and art during adolescence, representing a sort of artistic-cultural initiation that changed their worldview from one day to the next and forever. David was the friend who helped me escape the boredom of my small town, made me feel different, (extra)ordinarily unique.

He too encountered the aliens around 1971 because – for those who don't know – Ziggy Stardust was not an extraterrestrial but a human who accidentally came into contact with entities from another dimension through his radio and mistook their messages for spiritual revelations, accepting the role of messiah on Earth: that’s how he wrote “Starman,” the much-longed-for message of hope directed at humanity.

I'm still babbling about my great love when... ZOT! I find myself at Villa Ofmilla, on the outskirts of Rome, early August 1973. By the pool, I recognize his wife Angie, the friend and backup singer Geoff MacCormack, the bodyguard Stuey George. The Italian RCA representative Carlo Basile is also there, wanting to speak with Mick Ronson. David was bored and has already left for London; only a month earlier at the Hammersmith, he killed Ziggy amidst general dismay.

Once again, they did it to me... how many times I would have liked to tell Bowie, “please don't disband the Spiders, at least one more album, I beg you at least one!” And they take me to the funeral of the spiders! But you could have taken me to the scene of the crime, at least I would have seen the concert! Heartless alien bastards who, as everyone knows by now, are heartless.

The latest work of Bowie has just been released, an unusual collection of covers titled “Pin-Ups,” with Mick trying to start a solo career and RCA initiating a kind of Anglo-Italian co-marketing with Patty Pravo turning Lou Reed's (and Ronson + Bowie's) “Walk on the Wild Side” into “I giardini di Kensington,” and they think of reversing the thing by entrusting Ronson with “Io vorrei... Non vorrei... Ma se vuoi” by Lucio Battisti and Mogol (which will become “Music is lethal” present in “Slaughter on 10th Avenue” by Mick Ronson).

But what Battisti and Mogol! Without you, Ziggy would have stayed with his arm in the air and nothing would have happened at Tops Of The Pops! Without you, there wouldn’t have been the three minutes during which “Starman” started the cultural revolution among young Britons, happy to have finally found someone who could lead their expedition to the stars. Not just the guitarist then, but Ziggy's alter ego, but the sharp producer, but the arranger (of the sublime strings), but... an oversized talent and an incredibly simple and polite person, perhaps too much for the music world.

However, let's be honest, of the four albums of unreleased glam-period songs, Hunky Dory is an album built more on keyboards than on six-string (although “Queen Bitch”… oh yeah!) and in “Diamond Dogs” the guitar is played by David. Therefore, if like me, you love the way Ronson makes the electric guitar howl like dogs in heat in “Moonage Daydream,” you’re left with a mere two albums. And here comes “Pin-Ups,” becoming an album to have at any cost!

Recorded more or less with the same team Bowie had used during his golden years - producer Ken Scott, guitarist Mick Ronson and bassist Trevor Bolder, along with keyboardist Mike Garson, saxophonist Ken Fordham, and chorister Geoff MacCormack, with Aynsley Dunbar on drums instead of spider Woody Woodmansey – Pin-Ups has long been considered a failure. The main criticism it has always faced is that the originals are more beautiful than the covers. In fact, the songs were originally conceived as instant pop, and their simplicity requires a rough singing approach to give them the strength they need. But Bowie's overly educated voice floats nonchalantly above the music, and although most songs are given more than loving treatment, it's not always adequate.

Comparison with the originals, however, was unnecessary at the time of release, as many tracks were unknown to most of the public, and it is pointless today. Perhaps it is one of the most honest records Bowie has ever made: "This is me," he says, "and this is the music I loved." No grand statement, no artistic license, no overarching concept. Just a series of snapshots of the 1960s London club scene and an evening with one of the greatest jukeboxes in the world! Pin-Ups was never an exercise in nostalgia. Rather, it was as if Bowie was asking: if those bands were reborn now, with the same musicians and the same songs, what would they sound like? It's unlikely he was wrong in most of his conclusions.

If, as is true, the victim of the night of July 3, 1973, at the Hammersmith was the faithful Mick, have at least the desire to hear what he can do on the six-string for the time David allowed him. Pin-Ups gives you the opportunity: don’t waste it.

P.S. Back from the hallucinatory journey into the past, still angry for not having seen David, I go back to telling the aliens about the thousand transformations of ours - Halloween Jack, Philadelphia Soulboy, Thin White Duke, Berlin Hermit, New Romantic Clown, Trendy Restaurant Waiter - of the Berlin trilogy, of “Scary Monsters,” of when, in the 80s, disavowing his creed (I only think about what I feel and what I see. I never worry about the audience I like my music), he became the most famous pop artist on the planet, of Drum and Bass, of Black Star and the way the Genius decided to leave the Earth, of how Bowie has been an innovator in everything, in music and the theatricalization of concerts, he introduced the look, the makeup, and then there's the actor and the painter and … But I think it’s too much, the aliens have left, telling me they won't return, too complicated is the Earth when seen through Bowie’s eyes!

• Rosalyn
• Here Comes The Night
• I Wish You Would
• See Emily Play
• Everything's All Right
• I Can't Explain
• Friday On My Mind
• Sorrow
• Don't Bring Me Down
• Shapes Of Things
• Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere
• Where Have All The Good Times Gone?

Backing Vocals – David Bowie, Mac Cormack*, Mick Ronson

Baritone Saxophone – Ken Fordham

Bass – T.J. Bolder*

Co-producer – Ken Scott

Drums – Aynsley Dunbar

Engineer – Denis Blackeye

Guitar, Piano – Mick Ronson

Piano, Organ, Harpsichord, Electric Piano – Mike Garson

Producer – David Bowie

Synthesizer [Moog], Harmonica, Tenor Saxophone, Alto Saxophone – David Bowie