Let's Dance
I’ve written before about how I grew up with music but I have no idea who reads every post and who checks in from time to time, both of which are good options to consume this newsletter. So long story short, my parents are immigrants and outside of movies, tv, and of course the Chipmunks, I wasn’t exposed to a lot of rock music in my youth. It wasn’t until my teens I started exploring the massive genre. At first with very contemporary releases, then later in my twenties I would go further back and explore the larger landscape of Rock & Roll. When I say Rock & Roll I mean any type of music that can fit within that label. Billy Joel said it’s all just Rock & Roll to him, and I wholeheartedly agree; Blues, Metal, Punk, Alternative, Garage, Hard, Folk, Glam, Soft, Indie, Grunge, Funk, it’s all Rock & Roll to me.
My Mother didn’t listen to much Rock around the house, but when my Aunts and her would get together they would often reminisce on their love of the Beatles and their times in the Dominican Republic when they would learn and sing lyrics they didn’t understand. Beatlemania traveled wider than I’d realized. In 1996 when RMM dropped the Tropical Tribute To The Beatles I saw a whole different side of my Mother. Her youth was finally allowed to seep into her adult life, or at least to my young perspective of it. It’s that moment I realized my parents were children and teenagers and had a whole different experience than the one I knew. Some songs in the album are in English and some in Spanish, but when my Mother started singing those English songs it was a complete surprise. My mother is fluent in English with a heavy Dominican accent, but when she sang Beatles songs, her accent was very different. It wasn’t a perfect American or British accent, but it was free of her “I had to learn English” accent and felt as organic as, “I’ve been listening to this since I was small” type of accent. I’ve heard many stories of a hard childhood from her, but before I heard her sing these songs I really didn’t have an actual image of what a happy childhood memory looked like for her. One day I’ll track down a copy of that record and I’ll feature it on Sunday Morning Records, but for today we’ll discuss a Rock God who I became absolutely enthralled with.
I can’t track my first introduction to David Bowie, other than his name was ubiquitous when I was growing up. I probably learned the name before I knew what songs were his or before I saw an image of him. The same is true for Dolly Parton and Tina Turner. By the time I got to them they were beyond famous and even if you didn’t know their music you sure did know their names and likeness. Being the big Jim Henson fan I was, Labyrinth was a big one for me. The baby stealing glamorous pirate looking Goblin King was equal parts exciting and terrifying to my young eyes. That didn’t really connect me to his music at large but definitely put him on my radar.
I didn’t go deep into Nirvana until after Cobain’s tragic death. Smells Like Teen Spirit was on every top ___ MTV music video countdown list, but like many artists of the time, I knew nothing beyond the hits. A few years after his passing, when I was getting out of my high school groups and began expanding my music knowledge I fell in love with Nevermind, then In Utero and eventually MTV Unplugged. Nirvana’s MTV unplugged cover of The Man Who Sold The World was probably the biggest stand out of that performance and at some point became an earworm. I don’t remember when, but at some point someone informed me that it was originally a David Bowie song, which led me to Kazaa lite to download the song, which in turn became an even bigger earworm. I still appreciated Nirvana’s version, but Bowie’s original reigned supreme and that was the first time I became interested in his music.
The next step in my Bowie renaissance would come while working at the Bowery Poetry Club. When we closed for the night, the staff would play. For a while, on nights we were able to close on the earlier side, we’d roll down the front gate and let a select group of friends in through the side door and we would drink, smoke, listen to music and play poker. Sometimes I think life was easier back then, but that’s through the lenses of youth colored glasses remembering the good parts and not any of the hardships of the time. There was crew of so many great people around me, some of whom aren’t with us today. I miss you Diane O’Debra. I miss you Shappy Seasholtz.
It was during one of those sessions that I first heard my friend Cody play the 1997 song I’m Afraid Of Americans. This was no Bowie I’ve ever heard before, and it was instantly intoxicating. At the time I was very into hard fast rock and this Trent Reznor collab was right up my alley. Here Bowie came in hard during the chorus’ singing about his fear of Americans. I’m an American as I was born here and we still have birthright citizenship, but my parents are immigrants, and whenever I’ve been asked “what are you” or “where are you from” or “where are you REALLY from”, American has never been a satisfying answer. And that’s not even the worst of it. I was living in a post 9/11 New York, and hate and anger was palpable in the air. Being a little racially ambiguous, I was considered less American by many. People sometimes yelled things like “go back to your country” or “What’s a ____ doing speaking Spanish”. I carried a fear and anger that I attempted to conceal. On the outside I acted unbothered but inside I was a mess. My truth then, was expressed by Bowie’s simple yet poignant lyrics:
“Yeah I'm afraid of Americans
I'm afraid of the world
I'm afraid I can't help it
I'm afraid I can't”
After I heard that song, I went right to a record shop, probably the Tower or Virgin on union square, and got a copy of the double CD Best of Bowie. The Bowie deep dive was ready to begin and I was armed with a wide array of Bowie hits from the start of his career through 2002, when the compilation was released. I kept the CD in my old car and would explore a couple of new songs with every ride. It was exciting and overwhelming. It’s a lot easier to consume someone’s greatest hits when their music hasn’t changed so much from album to album, but this would not be true with Bowie. His music spans many decades and has never been stagnant, so the compilation didn’t tell a concise musical story. How could it with so many Cha Cha Cha Changes throughout his career. What was I to do?
Something was missing. I explored the “hits” but I still felt as if I knew nothing of this man. Around that time, say 2008/9, I was the regular DJ for the louderARTS poetry slam and open mic at Bar 13 on Monday nights and the poet Emily Kagan became the slam master/host of the show. My job as DJ for a poetry event was made up of some freeform music playing before and after the show, and songs to intro and outro poets on stage. The relationship between Host and DJ here was of the utmost importance. The DJ is a tool for the host to move the show along with excitement and cohesion, so we were in constant conversation. At one point during our first collaborations I played a Bowie song and Emily openly expressed her love for his music on the microphone. This declaration imprinted a desire to know more of his music in order to properly play for my host. This stage to booth relationship was so very special to me. I always strived to be the best DJ for my host, so gaining Bowie knowledge was an essential responsibilty to be a good DJ for Emily. For a long time after Emily would refer to me as HER DJ, which would fill me with pride every time. Now I was actually ready for a real David Bowie deep dive. I began with the albums The Man Who Sold The World and The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars and listened to both on repeat for the better part of a year. Those albums got me through a lot of sticky feelings, or at least they provided some relief and reflection. After that year I began purchasing any Bowie record I came across. I fell in love with Honky Dory, Young Americans, The Lodger, Diamond Dogs, studying each of these in and out before moving into the 80’s and ultimately connecting with Let’s Dance which is this week’s pick for Sunday Morning Records.
Out of all these albums, why Let’s Dance today? Well, I’m happy! After months of hunting and being in a type of limbo, tomorrow I begin a new career and I’m so overjoyed. Whenever I’m overcome with joy, I want to dance and this album fills me with dancing glee. I was two years old when Let’s Dance dropped in 1983. It would become his highest selling album, which made a lot of hardcore Bowie fans very cross. I’ve heard many people say they followed Bowie until Let’s Dance and kinda fell out after. I don’t care about those opinions. I found Bowie way later and I connected to him when I did, so I had the pleasure of viewing the album with distance from that time and from all of the old Bowie superfans that were mad he made something commercial and popular. I’ve heard this about many musicians throughout my life. People are usually like “They were better when…” or “They’re old music was much better before everyone loved them”. I definitely feel that about some artists, but never to the point of disparaging their new music or acting like I was cooler because I got to them “first”. I often talk about how I loved Shakira more before she crossed over to English, but she’s definitely had a great career since the crossover and has spread her music to many more people. Let’s Dance sold more because it was accessible to a larger audience and it’s filled with the bangiest of bangers and ain't nothing wrong with that. It’s okay to like popular stuff.
When Bowie released Let’s Dance, it was a time of great transition for him. It was the first album after he was done with his RCA deal, in which I’ve read his finances were squandered by his then manager Tony Defries. This isn’t the only Tony David stopped working with for the album. He also broke ties with longtime producer Tony Visctonti, a rift that would last twenty years until the 2002 album Heathens. Instead Bowie would partner up with legendary musician and producer Niles Rodgers. Rodgers is your favorite musician's favorite musician! The list of players on this album goes deep, but let me just point out Sammy Figueroa on percussion, Carmine Rojas on bass guitar and the one and only Stevie Ray Vaughan on guitar. This rich cast of characters provide great texture to what is essentially a post-disco 80’s pop album. All this transitory energy is powered by those same Ch Ch Ch Changes. Change is undefeated. We might not want it, but it’s coming. You might slow it down a bit, but it’s still on its way. I’ve had a tough go at dealing with changes. It’s been difficult for me to go from happily employed to unemployed, picking up cool and fun gigs, and essentially being a house spouse, cooking and doing most of the household chores. A job I’ve truly enjoyed and my cooking has never been better but just as I was getting used to the new terrifying normal, and the weather finally began pointing to summer, I get an attractive new job and the changes start all over again. This time I’m excited and welcoming of the changes. This time I’m ready to put on my red shoes and dance the blues. So let's jump into the album.
Side 1
1. Modern Love 2. China Girl 3. Let's Dance 4. Without You
The album starts with Modern Love, an amazing dance pop 80’s anthem. I feel so much 80’s when I hear it. I feel John Hughes and Molly Ringwald and Kevin Bacon and 80’s saxophones and New Wave and Three Men and a Baby and all of it. This song is an invitation to move your body. He’s not singing Let’s Dance yet, but he’s letting you know that’s where this is headed. This isn’t the title track but musically it’s the thesis of the project.
China Girl is a Iggy Pop cover that Bowie was also a part of. It’s supposed to be about them flirting with someone else’s Asian girlfriend and then feeling like they’re corrupting her. It’s about colonizers feeling bad about exoticizing and colonizing? Listen, I don’t know about these lyrics, and if you don’t want to listen to it I completely understand. But Vaughan puts his whole foot into this one. His guitar riffs and little solo are remarkable. I like Bowie’s version a lot more than Iggy’s. That’s all I got to say about that.
The opening of Let’s Dance, always reminds me of Bowie by Flight of the Conchords. In the song Bowie, the musical comedic duo from New Zealand, go through a few Bowie references while trying to communicate with Bowie. Well, Bowie to Bowie. In the episode of the TV show of the same name, Brett is visited by different era Bowies, so when the song is played, they run through one of the greatest Bowie tributes I’ve ever experienced. At some point the song breaks into a Let’s Dance parody beat that delights me every time I listen to it. The actual title track of this album is a bright vibrant bop of a song that is all about finding the fun at any time. Just like with Manu Chao singing to Bob Marley, this world goes crazy, so Bowie implores us to dance “Under the moonlight, the serious moonlight”. I’ll dance so much, so hard, I’ll fall right into your arms and “tremble like a flower”. The sick bassline on this track is probably what makes all the flowers tremble. The horns and guitar play together, kinda going back and forth, or more like the horns asking for the guitar to give it more, more, more. At seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds this is the longest track on the album. If a DJ let this whole song rock, I’d be on the dance floor the entire time. Come on, Let’s Dance. I love It!
Without You brings the tempo down a bit, probably to let us rest. Bowie gives us a sultry little falsetto here and Stevie Ray’s guitar guides it right into the mark. This song belongs in all of the 80’s movies too, except it should play during the serious relationship bits. It’s a fine song.
Side 2
1. Ricochet 2. Criminal World 3. Cat People (Putting Out Fire) 4. Shake It
Ricochet feels like a Bowie epic. This song has a cascading quality. It always feels like it's falling upon you. The syncopated drums beats carry this into a fairytale realm. This isn’t the Goblin King’s domaine, but I bet he got a lot of Goblin King energy from it. This is low key one of my favorite songs on this album. I get so excited for its play. I love how he talks over the track with a filter, how the sax dances around the drums and everything just feels like a well oiled machine that’s running for a millennia. Every time Bowie says “ricochet” I feel it bouncing around inside my body. I also think of the Denzel Washington film of the same title. In it John Lithgow plays a gnarly villain and Ice T plays a reluctant hero. It’s a fun watch. I bet you wont stop thinking of the song the whole way through.
Criminal World is a fun song that starts slow and picks up. More great Stevie Ray guitar. Criminal World is a cover from the band Metro. Their version was apparently banned by the BBC for bisexual undertones. Some say it’s why Bowie wanted to add it to the album.
Cat People (Putting Out Fire) is another big tune. A powerful rock song that kicks doors in and takes no prisoners. You will rock out to this. It might be my favorite Vaughan performance on the album. This is one of those songs that I can’t help myself from singing along to. Actually that might be true for most of the album. While walking around the city with my airpods in, I’m definitely the person who sings to themselves. I’ve done this at Karaoke too. Bowie is good for Karaoke. Lyrics are never too dense, the grooves are easy to follow, and the explosive chorus will send a shock through the entire place. Try it in the mirror, or in front of a friend. It might be your new go to Karaoke track.
I read someone call Shake It a filler song in the album. To that person; I bite my thumb to you. The biggest problem with this funk filled song is that it isn’t long enough. Someone go make a club version for me to play all afternoon. I don’t care about any of the lyrics in this song, but I love the backing vocals just repeating “(Shake it, Shake it, what’s my line)”. I’m really just getting though Bowie’s lyrics to get to the shake it shake it of it all. That’s the point of this song and of the album. I hope you’re shaking it as you read, or getting ready to shake it when you’re done. That’s the lesson of the album, which makes it a great outro. Leave us shaking wanting more. “Shake It Baby”
And that’s Let’s Dance folks. I can’t choose which is my favorite Bowie album, cause I’d feel too bad about the albums I didn’t choose, but for the first week of the darling buds of May, for a moment of happiness and energy, I say no other Bowie album can truly fulfill all of those great feelings. I’m so grateful for this album and David Bowie catalog at large. Bowie was the first shot fired by 2016, the year the music died. We would lose so many legends that year. Each loss filled with the joyful reminders of their brilliance. We celebrate all of the music they left us to remember them by. Today we celebrate Bowie’s pop 80’s Masterpiece Let’s Dance. I hope you enjoy this album and have a great week.