David Bowie 27: The Buddha Of Suburbia

With a sudden obligation to nobody, Bowie kept working, and something called The Buddha Of Suburbia snuck out at year’s end. Derived from work on the soundtrack to a TV adaptation of the novel of the same title, Bowie used it as an opportunity to explore and experiment over various musical themes, and ended up with one of the more satisfying if mysterious releases of his career.

Much of the album is instrumental, performed by himself with occasional collaborator Erdil Kizilcay. It also heralds the return of Mike Garson, who adds his distinctive piano style to two tracks. “The Mysteries” ranks with side two of both Low and “Heroes”, while “South Horizon” is jazzy and dynamic, and the extremely ambient (save the sound of vinyl surface noise) “Ian Fish U.K. Heir” is easy to tune out, quiet as it is.

But there are actual songs here, too. The title track appears twice—the second time embellished with superfluous guitar by Lenny Kravitz—and includes some pointed lyrical and melodic references to earlier Bowie tunes. “Strangers When We Meet” and “Dead Against It” are infectious, accessible pop tunes among his best, while the otherwise unintelligible “Untitled No. 1” comes closest to the dance groove of Black Tie White Noise without overdoing it. Even those with few lyrics past the ones in their titles (“Sex And The Church” and “Bleed Like A Craze, Dad”) capture the attention and bear repeat listening.

Even with only tangential connection to the film, The Buddha Of Suburbia was marketed in the UK as a soundtrack, which it wasn’t. The album wasn’t released in America for two years, until Virgin picked up his ‘80s catalog and lobbed it on the market with zero fanfare around the time of what was then his next Big Project. Even then, with a new cover but absolutely no context or explanation, it was mostly ignored, to everyone’s detriment. It remains truly worth seeking out, especially as proof that he wasn’t that lost at the time after all.

David Bowie The Buddha Of Suburbia (1993)—3½

David Bowie 26: Black Tie White Noise

Part of Bowie’s frustration with EMI was that they kept hoping he’d do another Let’s Dance. Considering the next two albums he’d given them both tried to be commercial and failed, they should have known it was unlikely to happen. (Tin Machine didn’t help either, apparently.)

So it was somewhat alarming that ten years after Let’s Dance, he inaugurated his signing to a new label by reuniting with that album’s producer, Nile Rodgers, for Black Tie White Noise, a disjointed collection of barely-there songs with odd connotations. Bookended by music written for his wedding to the model Iman, much of the album veered close to the R&B dance remix scene, even in such misguided covers as Cream’s “I Feel Free”. (He must not have heard Belinda Carlisle’s version.) At least Morrissey’s “I Know It’s Gonna Happen Someday” was tackled somewhat straight, if winkingly, and “Nite Flights” was an uncanny and reverent interpretation of the obscure Scott Walker original. Sung with a weird accent, “Don’t Let Me Down And Down” was apparently a song by an Indonesian singer that was introduced to Bowie’s ears by his new bride, so there’s another sentimental aspect.

Mick Ronson put in one of his last appearances before his death, playing inaudible lead guitar on “I Feel Free”, as did Al B. Sure!, duetting on the title track (supposedly inspired by the previous year’s riots in LA) before his career went the same way. Another special guest was jazz trumpeter Lester Bowie, likely chosen for his prowess as for his name, who features throughout the album, and most pointedly on the instrumental “Looking For Lester”.

“You’ve Been Around” stands out as okay, possibly due to its placement near the start of the disc, but “Pallas Athena” is a mindless groove based around the same beats as every other track and the repeated sampled assertion that “God is on top of it.” With an annoying horn riff, “Miracle Goodnight” sounds like something Prince would reject. With the possible exception of the ultra-catchy “Jump They Say” (said to be a tribute to his schizophrenic half-brother who had committed suicide eight years previous) and the two versions of “The Wedding” (one instrumental, one vocal), the album is simply unmemorable at best, but grating if you’re not into dance music.

But even the people who were barely cared, and then the label that released it—his second in as many years—went under too, sending Black Tie White Noise out of print. It was re-released ten years later with a bonus CD including “Lucy Can’t Dance”, which was a bonus track on the original CD, “Real Cool World” from a forgotten movie soundtrack, and a pile of remixes, as if the album itself didn’t have enough beats on it, plus a bonus DVD documentary. Hindsight has not improved it in the slightest.

David Bowie Black Tie White Noise (1993)—2
2003 10th Anniversary Edition: same as 1993, plus 11 extra tracks (and minus 1 track) and DVD

Bill Wyman 3: Bill Wyman

Twenty years with the Stones meant a lot of sitting around for Bill Wyman, and although they were never going to use any of his songs for their semiannual albums, he kept recording anyway. Mostly this meant playing around with synthesizers, with a rotating group of friends who tended to work at Jimmy Page’s studio in Berkshire. Some of this experimentation was used on the soundtrack of the little-seen film Green Ice. Then somehow, the summer before Tattoo You was released and the subsequent tour happened, he had a mild hit with “(Si Si) Je Suis Un Rock Star”, a novelty song in fractured French with a truly cheesy synth part to match his weedy voice.

While it got somewhat regular MTV play when it was current, it wasn’t enough of a hit for the accompanying album to be released in America. It’s tough to say whether it would have made a dent. His voice does seem better matched to the robotic arrangements of “A New Fashion” and “Nuclear Reactions”. “Jump Up” attempts to create a new dance craze and fails, and we’re not sure how we’re supposed to relate to the weary jetsetter in “Rio De Janiero”. “Come Back Suzanne” was his other mild hit single of the period, with an even goofier video to match; it sounds like a real rhythm section too. “Ride On Baby” isn’t the Stones leftover from the Aftermath sessions, but his son helped write it. It has a lot of guitar from Brian Setzer, while Chris Rea provides the lead on the dreamy “Visions”. Knowing what we know now about his, shall we say, proclivities, “Seventeen” and “Girls” are a little cringey, though he might be trying to ape Mick on the latter.

While Bill Wyman isn’t as dull as his other two solo albums, it’s only of interest to Stones completists. They would naturally go for any of the reissues, which include four single edits as well as demos of the two hits.

Bill Wyman Bill Wyman (1982)—2½
2006 Bill Wyman Solo Collection Edition: same as 1982, plus 4 extra tracks

Who 21: Isle Of Wight and BBC Sessions

Following the box set, The Who’s labels got down to redoing the catalog, improving the sound and adding extra tracks. Live At Leeds was the first remaster, followed by second and third chances for most of the albums. In the middle appeared My Generation—The Very Best Of The Who, a single-disc replacement for what should have been Meaty Beaty Big And Bouncy, adding to a growing list of missing tunes. (Its rating below reflects the music therein, and doesn’t take into account the dozens of similar compilations that would appear over the decades to come.)

Surprisingly, Live At The Isle Of Wight Festival 1970 came out on another label in 1996, thanks to a legal hurdle that had been jumped. This was the Who six months after Leeds, with a cache of new songs that were supposed to be the next album. “I Don’t Even Know Myself” and “Water” are lengthy expansions, and “Naked Eye” has developed into a full-fledged song out of the “My Generation” improvisations. “Shakin’ All Over” goes into “Twist And Shout”, yelled by John. More importantly, it includes Tommy in sequence, but split across two CDs. It’s a more confident show, if a little muddy, and still no substitute for Leeds.

By the end of the decade, most of the catalog rejigging had been completed, with the exception of My Generation, held up in litigation with the original producer, who wasn’t going to let the tapes go for less than a fortune. While waiting for that mess to pan out, the record industry’s BBC fixation took over.

Like all struggling British bands, The Who made several appearances early in their career on the BBC’s pop radio programs. Many—but not all—of those recordings are included on BBC Sessions, which had already been beaten to certain shelves by some very comprehensive bootlegs. Still, there are some exclusive songs and some powerful versions of familiar songs before spinning to an abrupt end. “Good Lovin’” appears nine months before the hit version by the Young Rascals, while “Just You And Me, Darling” is another homage to James Brown. Even stranger, “Dancing In The Street”—yes, the Motown classic—gets a runthrough as well. Two versions of “Substitute” are here, one in the original single arrangement, and a later one in the shorter Leeds style. The disc ends with a pair of performances from BBC television, a funky take on “Relay” (a current single) and the then-unreleased “Long Live Rock”, where Pete blows the third verse. (The Best Buy chain had an exclusive bonus CD, containing an interview and some more BBC recordings of dubious origin, including a take of “I Can See For Miles” with a new bass line mixed up high.)

The Who My Generation—The Very Best Of The Who (1996)—4
The Who Live At The Isle Of Wight Festival 1970 (1996)—3
The Who BBC Sessions (2000)—3

Pink Floyd 3: More

Somehow, despite nothing suggesting blockbuster record sales, Pink Floyd managed to get the attention of a French director who wanted them to compose the soundtrack to his latest film. More is generally described as a “cautionary tale” about the perils of heroin addiction, and it’s highly likely that the only people who’ve bothered to watch it in the past forty years are Floyd fanatics.

“That’s to be expected,” you remark, “but what about the music?” Well, on this album the band (identified on the cover as The Pink Floyd) are still finding their way. “Cirrus Minor” opens with bird sound effects and a spooky melody sung over acoustic guitar and a squeaky organ, before “The Nile Song” comes blasting in. It’s a very rocking song, with a great guitar sound and a powerful vocal; it’s just too bad that the lyrics are so stupid. “Crying Song”, by contrast, is very gentle, built around another acoustic guitar and vibes, and with a subtle slide solo. It points the way to their patented style, as does “Green Is The Colour”. Unfortunately, the two are separated by “Up The Khyber”, a two-minute drum solo decorated with dissonant keyboards. The very well constructed “Cymbaline” shows Roger Waters growing as a songwriter, matched by David Gilmour’s voice.

The remainder of the album—starting from the bongo-driven “Party Sequence”, which closes side one—is mostly instrumental, with just one real song. “Main Theme” goes nowhere for the most part, rambling over a spy riff. “Ibiza Bar” is a variation on “The Nile Song”, with some interesting Beatlesque harmonies buried underneath. The aptly titled “More Blues” is a slow distraction, mostly led by Gilmour while the band joins in from time to time. Rick Wright’s “Turkish delight” organ approach takes up the bulk of “Quicksilver” (subtitled “Water-Pipe” on the label), a meandering nightmare along the lines of “A Saucerful Of Secrets”. The album’s nadir is “A Spanish Piece”, wherein what could be a showcase for gut-string guitar is torpedoed by an ethnically offensive vocal. At least it’s short, and you can always skip to “Dramatic Theme”, which is an extension of “Main Theme” but with more guitar.

It was, after all, a soundtrack, so they were concentrating more on moods than songs, and More remains one of the lesser Pink Floyd releases. Which is too bad, since some of the tracks, especially those on side one, are perfect for laid-back listening. The band was concentrating more on live performances anyway, and had constructed a few suites built from old and new songs that showed off their musicality much better than their albums could. Their dominance of the format was still a ways off.

Pink Floyd Original Motion Picture Soundtrack From The Film “More” (1969)—2½

Pink Floyd 2: A Saucerful Of Secrets

Syd was on the way out, figuratively and literally, by the time the Floyd’s second album was completed. A Saucerful Of Secrets suffers in comparison to its predecessor, if only because he’s not really there—with one key exception.
Rick Wright seems to dominate the album, with two of the better songs—“Remember A Day”, which was a single, and “See-Saw”, which wasn’t. Both seem to reflect nostalgia for childhood, or at least the past.

Roger’s songwriting hasn’t really caught fire yet. “Let There Be More Light” is an attempt at being spacey, contrasting the quiet but foreboding verse section with the louder chorus sung by newcomer David Gilmour. “Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun” is a better experiment, its minimalist structure giving the band plenty of room to improvise, and did they. The title track is even more free-form, giving everyone a chance to stretch. “Corporal Clegg” is the first instance of his lifelong obsession with the casualties of war.

The highlight of the album, however, is all Syd’s. “Jugband Blues” is his farewell, with sardonic lyrics about his station in the band and uncertainty about his future. The structure of the song is typically stilted, winding up into a Salvation Army band solo that gets sucked into emptiness, leaving only Syd and his acoustic. It’s a remarkable recording.

A Saucerful Of Secrets shows Pink Floyd finding their way, both between old and new guitarists and trying to figure out just what kind of band they were. Its inclusion in 1973’s A Nice Pair guaranteed well-deserved exposure, but ultimately kept it in competition with The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn. While there are some great moments, it remains a transitional work.

Pink Floyd A Saucerful Of Secrets (1968)—3

Pink Floyd 1: The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn

Pink Floyd holds the distinction of being one of exactly two bands of the post-Beatlemania rock era that ended up sounding nothing like their first LP. (The other one is the Moody Blues, who went from a typical R&B combo to spearheading a prog-pop style, but once again, we’re getting ahead of ourselves.)

Even Roger Waters will admit that the band began as an outlet for Syd Barrett’s guitar and surreal lyrics, and his unique vision truly dominates The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn. He established their status as a “space” band, thanks to “Astronomy Domine” and the lengthy freakout “Interstellar Overdrive”. But more than anything he drew his lyrical influences from a wide variety of literary sources, as displayed in “Matilda Mother”, “The Gnome” and “Chapter 24”. Syd’s sadly nostalgic views of bucolic childhood would dominate his life. (Roger’s first recorded composition, “Take Up Thy Stethoscope And Walk”, pales in comparison.)

Still, despite his dominance, it’s obvious that the band knew how to keep up with him. Rick Wright’s swirling Farfisa organ helps paint fitting backdrops throughout, supported by Nick Mason’s drums and Roger’s exploration of the bass fretboard. The space songs utilize incredible dynamics, and “Lucifer Sam”, “Pow R. Toc H.” and “Bike” are pretty solid rock.

Because of typical (for the time) transatlantic record company surgery, most Americans heard a truncated and reshuffled version of the album upon its initial release. Seven years later, when it was reissued as one of the two LPs in A Nice Pair, the sequence was restored, but a later Syd-less live version of “Astronomy Domine” was substituted for the original studio track. The CD version finally made the British LP the standard, re-established by the 40th Anniversary Edition, which has the mono and stereo mixes on their own discs, plus an extra disc of contemporary singles and alternates. Four of those singles were written by Syd, and include such tracks essential to the story as “See Emily Play” (included on the original American LP) and “Arnold Layne”.

Pink Floyd The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn (1967)—4
40th Anniversary Edition: same as 1967, plus 20 extra tracks