And so here we are again, look you see, with another episode or edition of Random Bowie for your reading pleasure. But, yes, with the end coming, this is all a lot less random in order than it once was.
This particular episode (edition) should be called Labyrinth And Wrapping Up The 80s, but that felt far too long. In truth there is only so much that I can say of the four songs on which Bowie’s vocals appear on the soundtrack, so it could well be that there’s somewhat more of the wrapping up part.
But, Labyrinth is the title, and that is where this will all start. Or go to from here.
Labyrinth is, of course, not an official David Bowie album as per the standard, commonly agreed way of counting them. Whereas it makes no sense to say The Buddha Of Suburbia is not a Bowie solo album proper, in this instance it does. That’s not to demean the songs (well, not all of them), it’s just that on a practical level the record is more the Trevor Jones score. One does not, for instance, refer to the soundtrack for The Rocky Horror Picture Show as a “Tim Curry solo album”.
Well, anyway, to start with undoubtedly and most iconic of Bowie songs off of the Labyrinth soundtrack would be to start with Magic Dance. So, with the power of voodoo, that is what I shall do.
Unfortunately, at the least for me, this bouncy song falls flat on the soundtrack. Whether you found the scene in the film riotously funny, entertaining or cringe worthy, it was unarguably memorable. Isolated to a soundtrack alone and it just does not work. Sadly, it’s not the same just listening to it, one needs to see Bowie with massive hair and massive codpiece in a room full of puppets to appreciate it.
The other three songs, however, work just fine. In particular this is true of the ostensible theme song, Underground. As we will get to in a bit, this is an example of the astonishing trick Bowie was able to do with music for films. He, apparently effortlessly but likely with a lot of work, could produce a song which worked perfectly as the theme to a particular film, yet could also stand alone in its own right. This is just a really, really good song, with a lovely crisp (hello, Faye) vocal by Bowie. A highlight is his delivery of the line “daddy, daddy, get me out of here” – this is Bowie on top form, going full tilt with it.
As The World Falls Down is as solid example as you could wish for of a classic 80s big hair power ballad. My understanding is that there was an intention to put this out as a single, but alas no. Within You, much like Magic Dance, might be more well remembered for the sequence in the film, but again it works just fine as song in itself.
So, is the Labyrinth soundtrack worth getting for or by you, the casual Bowie fan who has stumbled on this and is contemplating a purchase? Kind of. It’s a bit frustrating that it’s rare, if ever, that any of the songs feature on any standard “best of” sets. The truth is, despite what I said (and stand by) about Underground working as a song, if you have a DVD, Blu Ray or VHS (yes I have all three) of the film, well then you can kind of just get on with enjoying the songs with some most splendid visuals. But, then again, if you buy the album then you get a lovely picture of Bowie as Jareth The Goblin King on the cover, so don’t let me stop you.
Time, then, to look at the remainder of Bowie’s 80s output. And there is a fair bit of it, with lots of his music from the time not featuring on his albums.
A general perception is that the 1980s was Bowie’s “weakest” period, ranking 4th behind his 70s groundbreaking creativity, his 90s renaissance and his 00s established genius, no matter how much Charlie Watts out of the Stones reckons Bowie was not “some sort of genius”. Is this true? Well, perhaps, but if 80s Bowie was “as bad as it got”, then it never really got too bad, did it. For a start, when people say Bowie in the 80s was “a bit rubbish”, I think they forget that Scary Monsters – the album used by critics to describe any record by him as his “best and most important since” – was an 80s album. Oh, how I wish I could produce such quality rubbish.
It’s all subjective, and in the eyes (ahem, ears) of the beholder (listener), but I would not disagree with a view that any “top ten of the 80s” list of Bowie songs would be dominated by ones he composed for films. As mentioned earlier, when called on to contribute a song to a film, Bowie had an incredible knack for producing something that had immediate and obvious relevance to the film, yet could survive, be enjoyed and understood with no knowledge of that film.
There are two films, as it happens, where one is possibly better off simply not knowing about them at all and just enjoying the Bowie music. In chronological order, they would be Cat People and Absolute Beginners. Whilst Cat People is not a bad film as such, it’s certainly no masterpiece. The theme, Cat People (Putting Out Fire) most certainly is. The moody, broody tribal drums which build up to a remarkable explosion of angst in the vocals show that Bowie got the thematic idea of the film down perfectly, even if the final film itself did not. As mentioned in the edition for the relevant album, cherish the original soundtrack version of this song; ignore the horrid re-recorded version for the Let’s Dance album.
Absolute Beginners? OK. When people ask “whatever happened to the British film industry in the 80s”, look no further than this for an answer. Yeah, OK, maybe this and Give My Regards To Broad Street. Whereas in the 70s the British film industry produced the likes of Kes, The Wicker Man and Get Carter, in the 80s the decision was made to throw all the money at musicals which no one in particular wished to see,. No such trouble with Bowie’s theme, though. It was great when it came out, and it has surely survived the test of time.
Bowie’s greatest theme song? At least for the 80s? I shall be brave enough to say that it is indeed This Is Not America for the film The Falcon And The Snowman. A personal favourite film, I confess, but the song is just amazing in itself. The broody music by Pat Metheny captures the tone of the story and the film perfectly. As do the quasi haiku lyrics of Bowie. Lines such as “a little peace of you, the little peace in me, will die” and “snowman melting from the inside, falcon spirals to the ground” sum up the film perfectly, yet also stand in their own right as brilliant.
Finally on film related music by Bowie in the 80s (now there’s a category for you if you’re ever on Mastermind), When The Wind Blows. If pushed for an answer, most would probably identify Two Tribes by Frankie Goes To Hollywood as being the greatest anti-nuclear war song of the mid-80s, despite the band originally writing it about Mad Max 2. To concentrate on the Bowie one (kind of the point of these posts), it’s a really good, poignant song, effortlessly mixing the sympathetic feel for the protagonist of the film with the scary warnings of the consequences of nuclear missiles.
Away from films and there were (at least) two other songs that Bowie was involved with. Two collaborations, and two massive hits. The first of these was Under Pressure with Queen, and then a few years later there was Dancing In The Street with a certain Mick Jagger.
To start with the first would be Under Pressure. Legend has it that this collaboration came mostly by accident, with Bowie supposed to be working with Queen on a different song entirely. Members of Queen have tended to change the story over the years, but the most treasured telling is that Under Pressure was the result of jamming after a wonderful sounding couple of days enjoying a substantially cocaine fuelled party in the Swiss Alps. No matter, for as I have said before it’s not where you’re from its where you’re at. And where Under Pressure is at is a perfectly correct status as one of the greatest, most treasured and celebrated pop songs of all time. If for some reason you’ve never heard the song, now is the time to depart this blog and hear it, and I do mean now.
Something that is easy to lose sight of is that neither Queen nor David Bowie were the huge, international, household name stars we know them now as at the time of Under Pressure. They were both successful, sure, and well known, but not “superstars”. For Bowie this would come some two years later with all of Let’s Dance, for Queen it would be 3 and a bit years, with the album The Works taking them to a whole new level, and then to a never before and never since reached by anyone level with Live Aid.
Which brings us nicely onto that second collaboration, Dancing In The Street. Originally the idea was for a “cross Atlantic” duet between Bowie and Jagger during Live Aid. However, the delay in transmissions with 80s technology meant this was simply impossible. The two simply went and recorded it, then, and a most wonderful video to go with it, filmed in the London Docklands early one morning with a questionable level of film permits in place.
The one thing I have never understood in this world is that people exist who call this recording of Dancing In The Street things like hideous, atrocious, awful and rubbish. I’d have thought that any well intentioned charity single would get if not a free pass then at least criticism refrained from. Other than that, it’s actually decent. If no masterpiece, it holds up well enough being played now, a long way on from the euphoric, world unifying event of Live Aid itself.
Objectively, the song is lead 100% by Mick Jagger, with Mick Jagger giving 1,000% commitment to it all. To answer why Mick Jagger is Mick Jagger, it is because of things like this. No matter what project he was or is involved in, he delivers nothing short of the best he can do at it. Bowie, by contrast, seems to chip in some lines on the song in a way he appears to think that his at the time ever growing audience expected him to sound. I will say this, though – Bowie’s shouting of South America, or if you will “SARF HURMERICAAAA” at the start is one of the best, most beautiful moments of comedy gold, either from the 80s or ever.
The video for Dancing In The Street is, of course, a thing of beauty. My reaction at the time was to go out and buy a shirt exactly like the one what Jagger had on in it. I confess at no point did I ever consider adopting Bowie’s wardrobe from the video as my own. At heart the video is two global megastars having fun and showcasing their talent for a very good cause. For those interested in such, yes, of course, there does seem to be an awareness and a playfulness with the rock legend (on which you’d think Angie Bowie has dined out on more than once) that the two of them had a “good relationship” at one stage in the 70s. In any interpretation, the video is just all fun, and fun in a way that seems absent from the modern world of music.
Bowie’s solidifying his name as a global superstar in the 80s was not limited to music, to be sure. The acting aspirations he had right at the start came to the fore. On screen, mostly, but also on stage. By all accounts his performance in the lead of The Elephant Man was sensational. To my knowledge, though, only a few moments of it were ever filmed.
It would make sense, would it not, to commence this with Labyrinth. By all accounts Bowie was particularly keen to get involved with a project aimed mostly at children but broadly families, hence, I guess, his involvement with the animated adaptation of The Snowman. When he signed up for Labyrinth, the entire character of Jareth, or if you will The Goblin King, was rewritten to get the most out of bagging this particular elephant. No idea what the original concept was, but with no Bowie it was unlikely to have featured much in the way of singing, or any sort of magic dance.
Am I a fan of Labyrinth? Erm. Ahem. With this one I shall go along with the consensus. From what I remember at the time it wasn’t generally well received by critics or audiences, with the latter at least not on a large box office scale. Bowie, or rather Bowie’s massive hair and Bowie’s codpiece, were generally ridiculed. But the years have been kind to it, I suppose, and it’s got a fair name as a classic, “cult” or otherwise.
Other Bowie acting roles in the 80s? Certainly. Whilst most would suggest The Man Who Fell To Earth remains Bowie’s greatest acting role, I disagree. For me that would be the heart wrenching, emotionally turbulent and difficult to watch Merry Christmas, Mr Lawrence. In terms of Bowie’s dalliances with subversion, this is probably the ultimate in film, for this is not a film which was ever aimed at the teenage record buying demographic. Not, as I have given every indication, easy watching, but a superb film well worth seeing.
For the sake of completeness, Yellowbeard. Going on what John Cleese said when we, that is my (considerably) better half and I, saw him live, no one involved in the film particularly cared for it. Well, I thought it was the funniest thing I had ever seen, and after watching for the first time I immediately rewound the VHS and watched it again. This film is mentioned here for a most splendid, quasi aquatic based cameo from Bowie.
A special mention for two small but significant parts played by Bowie. One often overlooked is The Hunger, in which he plays a vampire’s lover. Now, a wish to avoid spoilers prevents me from saying much more than he’s outstanding with what he is given.
Finally, then, the most controversial of films he was in during the 80s. Yes, The Last Temptation Of Christ. With his lifelong wrestling with having faith and belief yet having major issues with formal, organized religion, one would suspect Bowie found playing the role of Pontius Pilate somewhat cathartic. And play the part he does, superbly well. Whilst I’d advise watching the entire film I do appreciate it is not one many have felt comfortable with. If so, I dare say that someone somewhere has put just Bowie’s bit up on that You Tube thing.
Well, there we go. Phew, even. The odd, perhaps inevitable dynamic is the conclusion of the 80s for Bowie. Whereas it was easily his most commercially successful period, few are the fans that would hold up some or any of what he did during this decade as being his best. As a simple fan, one who loves the majority of what he did, hopefully this and all the other episodes from this period have shown that Bowie’s 80s were not quite as sh!t as many would have you believe.
No, dear reader. I have not forgotten about that other 80s Bowie venture, nor what day it is today. Usually I would celebrate this date as being the one on which, in 1991 (!!), I saw Tin Machine. To me it just seemed to make more sense to post this episode of Random Bowie instead.
But, for those who want semi-exhaustive or are interested, I said pretty much all that I could possibly say of Tin Machine in this post. As for my usual celebration of the date of the day today, well, the post I did on the subject last year is rather splendid, and has some lovely video for you.
Thanks as ever for reading. Until the next episode or edition, then…………….
be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wait, what? Still hear reading? Yeah, go on then........
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