David Bowie - Live in Santa Monica '72

It's actually a sad fact, but most of the artists we've come to know and love over the years, as much as we adore their music, really can't be called innovators. Think about that for a moment. Since the emergence of modern rock in the sixties, with The Beatles, The Stones, The Who and The Kinks, how many artists have changed the face of music? How many have created something totally new, and with it a lasting legacy that goes unchallenged to this day? Have created a personality and body of work that is instantly recognizable around the world?

It's a cool question to ponder, to discuss with your buds while you're shooting pool or just hanging out on a summer morning downing your fifth cup of java before 10 am. (okay, today might have been a six cups of java day around the Ripple office). But play with it for a while, toy with it in your mind, see how long of a list you can come up with.

One name that certainly needs to be there, is David Bowie.

I can only imagine what it must have been like to see Bowie during his Ziggy Stardust phase. With the theatricality of his performance, the spacesuits, the spiked hair, the raw power of the Spiders From Mars blasting the earth to dust behind him, I'm sure it would be a memory to last a lifetime. Fortunately, for those of us who didn't have the chance, David Bowie Live Santa Monica '72 can help to give us a glimpse into how revolutionary those days were. Long known by bootleggers as the definitive early Bowie recording, this show was revered for it's exceptional sound quality and accessibility, having been Bowie's first ever U.S. radio broadcast coming on his first U.S. tour promoting The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Now, after all these years, the show is being officially released and, damn if it doesn't make me wish I could build a time machine and head back there myself. Pope, get me a screwdriver and a warp drive engine!

I don't know what the audience was expecting when they paid the $5.50 ticket price to see him. How could you react to this androgynous orange haired being, slim as a rail, dressed in multi-colored tights, blowing away all your preconceived macho notions of what a rock star and rock show were supposed to be? And Bowie does just that. At the top of his game, this is a stunningly powerful performance of passionate rock. Just listening to it makes me want to get out my old leotards (don't ask) and an orange wig to paste over my shiny pate.

It wasn't until I read my friend Bob Vinyl's comments on Bowie's influence on the emergence of punk that the idea took root in my mind, but after listening to the opener "Hang on to Yourself," there's just no doubt about it. Bowie and the band come on revved up and punked up, speeding through their chords with the same fury that the Ramones would bring five years later. This is punk rock, it's fierce, raw and in your face.

Bowie's voice throughout is in amazing form, high and low, rough and raw, smooth and glassed. Instantly recognizable. A truly unique instrument. His renditions of what are now classics "Changes," Space Oddity," and "John, I'm Only Dancing," are spot on perfect. Adapted for the stage, sloppy in their perfection. The Spiders follow his lead seamlessly. "Space Oddity," is especially divine, presented in a hushed, yet still beautifully powerful acoustic version to the unsuspecting crowd. And just as satisfying are the non-classics, the songs that fill out the set like the acoustic "Andy Warhol," and "My Death." The Velvet Undergound-ism of "Queen Bitch," and the full-on glam of "Moonage Daydream." There's no hiding the theatricality of the songs, the over-the-topness and larger-than-lifeness of the Ziggy persona. And to answer my own question, just listen to the applause and howling that accompanies the end of "Five Years," and you'll see how the crowd reacted to this cosmic rock and roll visitor. They loved him!

Special mention has to be given to the Spiders. Often overshadowed by the dominance of Bowie's theatrics, the band were the perfect vehicle to bring Bowie's bizarre imaginations to life. Just listen to the band as they rage into the full-out proto-metal assault of "The Width of a Circle," a driving, raw, near 11-minute opus of rock. This is the first time Mick Ronson is set loose, tearing into his solo with fire and vehemence. Behind him, the rhythm section never falters but does their best to fill the afterburners to drive this baby into space. I can only imagine that throughout this song the crowd was going insane, lighters waving, marijuana puffing, girls crying. (As a side note, I had a Spiders From Mars "solo" album once. I can see it in my mind, red cover, spider on it. Wonder what ever happened to that one?)

Bowie has released live albums before, but I'll argue till the end of time that Santa Monica's ending trilogy of "The Jean Genie," "Suffragete City," and "Rock 'n' Roll Suicide," is the definite live Bowie moment. An artist, a band, a vision, a sound at it's pinnacle.

At 18 songs, clocking in at over an hour, there's a lot of bang for you buck with this disc, also available as a double vinyl LP and digital album. Now more than 35 years old, the songs hold up as the classics they are. The sound quality is solid throughout, but more importantly, the disc captures an innovator at his creative peak. Not just creating music, but an entire persona, a world, an entire solar system to go with his vision. Raw and rough, quiet and subtle, never less than fascinating. That's David Bowie.

--Racer

Buy here: Live in Santa Monica '72