The past it almost shimmers now…
Above is page sixty one from the latest MOJO classic, a special issue which celebrates the 40th anniversary of the year 1967 and ‘The Summer Of Love’.
Paul Trynka has written a lovely piece regarding David Bowie’s self-titled debut for Deram, which was released on the same day as fairly stiff competition in the shape of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, in June 1967.
Here’s a few excerpts from the piece…
ONE OF THE most remarkable albums of 1967 was one that disappeared without trace. In later years, David Bowie’s self-titled debut would be labelled as a failure, a quirky but insubstantial relic from the English psych era. It is a misconception that reinforces the legend of the singer’s hard-fought rise to fame. In truth, the record was the first real proof of Bowie’s extraordinary talent – a view shared by his bandmates, manager and the man himself.
In early 1966, David Bowie was just another singer struggling on London’s R&B and mod circuit, but with a difference: his set, rather than the usual Tamla and Stax covers, comprised mostly self-written material, and the few covers, such as Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse’s ballad What Kind Of Fool Am I?, demonstrated that David was pursuing a highly individual path.
The piece goes on to explain how manager Ken Pitt managed to forge an album deal with Deram, despite David’s lack of a hit single…a highly unusual gamble for a record company to take back then…
Mendl was head of album A&R at Decca and fortuitously developed “a minor obsession about David Bowie. I thought he was the most talented, magical person. I would have signed him even if he hadn’t had such obvious talent!”
Here’s a final excerpt that goes part way to explaining the creation of the album’s highly-individual sound, highlighting a need to escape the herd which would remain with the 20-year-old for the rest of his career….
Recorded over a then extraordinarily generous period of seven days – between November 1966 and February 1967 – the 14 songs were mini-epics set in almost childlike imaginary worlds. There was no electric guitar; instead, the quirky soundscapes were filled with oboes, French horns and trombones. ProducerMike Vernon recalls he’d been assigned the project “because Decca thought I’d done all this oddball stuff”, but found it “very off the wall, to say the least. And names were being bandied around of poets and artists I’d never heard of.” Yet Vernon and engineer Gus Dudgeon tackled the challenge with laudable enthusiasm, relishing the album’s humour.
It’s worth checking out the full piece if you can.
In a Deram press release for the Rubber Band/The London Boys 45, the latter was described as: “David Bowie’s partly autobiographical cameo of the brave and defiant little mod racing uphill along Wardour Street to an empty Paradise.”.
Ten years later in 1977, a similarly aged chap from Woking attempted the same journey during the Mod revival…if that’s not an oxymoron. And now, thirty years on from his first records with The Jam, Paul Weller is often referred to as the Godfather of Dad Rock.
That’s an appropriate title in that it seems, according to today’s Guardian, this particular dad doesn’t see eye-to-eye with his son, Natt, when it comes to taste in music.
Natt, who has an eye on following in Weller Snr’s footsteps, but definitely not in his style, had this to say regarding the lack of any decent male rock stars coming through: “There haven’t been any proper male artists for ages except for Robbie Williams, and he’s shit. I’m just sick of all these bands in granddad jumpers and straw hats. I want to be a proper rock star. We need something like a modern Bowie.”
Well Natt, they’re lofty ambitions indeed, and your desire for change is to be applauded. And we can even help you out with the modern Bowie bit in the shape of somebody who sometimes hangs out around here…he’s called David Bowie…and he’s a real Mod!
