David Bowie, ‘The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars,’ 1972
The concept album, a grand narrative carried by song, is a rarity. Yet, David Bowie’s The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars stands as a monumental exemplar of this art form. A magnum opus, it adeptly intertwines myth, music, and thematic musings, capturing the zeitgeist of the early 1970s while influencing generations of artists. The Rise and Fall chronicles the story of Ziggy Stardust, an androgynous, bisexual rock messiah who who is sent to Earth as a saviour before an impending apocalyptic disaster and becomes the mouthpiece for extraterrestrial beings. The character of Ziggy, according to Bowie, embodies the duality of a messianic savior and tragic victim crushed by fame and spiritual vacuity. At its heart, the album comments on the nature of celebrity and artifice. As Bowie himself reflected in 1973 on the album’s follow-up, Aladdin Sane, he aimed to “package a totally credible plastic rock star.” This notion of a constructed hero is emblematic of the underlying tension between authenticity and artifice within the entertainment industry. The narrative developed around the songs retrospectively, with lyrics infused with existential dread and contemplation of fame’s transient nature. The album opens with Five Years, a track that sets a dystopian tone with its apocalyptic prophecy—Earth has only five years left unless it embraces cosmic intervention. The meticulous build-up of desperation in Bowie’s vocal delivery ignites a visceral response, grounding the fantastical premise in urgent reality. Soul Love and Moonage Daydream continue the exploration of love and transformation. Starman introduces Ziggy as the extraterrestrial savior, wrapped in glam rock exuberance and optimistic melodies. Lady Stardust and Star paint broader strokes of Ziggy’s rise to fame and his internal conflicts. Songs like Hang On to Yourself and Suffragette City dive deep into the hedonistic chaos that fame invites, capturing the spirit of proto-punk in their raucous energy. But it’s the closing track, Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide, where the narrative hits a crescendo of existential emptiness—a tragic end underscored by Bowie’s haunting scream, “You’re not alone!” This epitomizes the disillusionment with the rock ‘n’ roll dream and Ziggy’s ultimate fall.
The album’s composition reflects a seamless blend of glam rock, theatrical pop, and proto-punk, showcasing Bowie’s prowess in navigating diverse musical landscapes. Mick Ronson’s contributions are particularly noteworthy. His guitar work provides both melodic structure and electrifying solos, especially in tracks like Moonage Daydream, where his play weaves euphoric highs and primal depths. The collaboration between Bowie and Ronson extends to the piano and Mellotron accompaniments, adding layers of orchestral depth to the album. The Rise and Fall is unequivocally one of the most influential albums in rock history. It didn’t just carve out a definitive place for Bowie in the pantheon of rock gods but also challenged societal norms around gender, sexuality, and artistic expression. The advent of Ziggy Stardust inspired countless musicians to embrace alter egos and theatricality. Bowie redefined the possibilities of a rock performance by blurring the lines between performer and character, reality and fantasy. This album predates his later forays into more introspective works and experimental forays but encapsulates the freedom and innovation that marks Bowie’s discography.
Keep your ‘lectric eye on me, babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!
Van Morrison, ‘Astral Weeks,’ 1968
Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks is an intricate labyrinth of emotional and spiritual revelations. The album’s concept centers on themes of existential yearning, mysticism, and transient beauty. Merenstein’s innovative decision to segregate the album into two sides—titled “In the Beginning” and “Afterwards”—fosters a quasi-cyclical narrative that deepens the listener’s immersion into the album’s ephemeral realm. Morrison’s poetic dexterity is at its zenith, transporting listeners through a celestial voyage enriched with introspective insights and emotive nuances. The titular track, “Astral Weeks”, commences with evocative lines: “If I ventured in the slipstream, between the viaducts of your dream / Where immobile steel rims crack and the ditch in the back roads stop.” These lyrics set the tone for an album that thrives on metaphysical exploration and spiritual introspection. The pervasive theme of longing is omnipresent throughout the album, resonating in songs like Cyprus Avenue and Sweet Thing. The narrative oscillates between reminiscence and yearning, embodying a delicate intertwining of past and future, dream and reality. The ambiguity of Morrison’s inspiration and the abstract lyrical content contribute significantly to the album’s mystique, inviting myriad interpretations that have kept its allure intact. Morrison himself described the title track as seeing the “light at the end of the tunnel”, a statement that encapsulates the album’s enigmatic charm. The album’s musical architecture is as multifaceted as its thematic essence. The compositions exude an improvisational fluidity, yet they are meticulously structured, a testament to Lewis Merenstein’s adept production skills. Morrison’s vocals, encapsulated in a glass-enclosed booth, lend an intimate, almost isolated quality to the performance that is counterbalanced by the organic cohesiveness of the jazz ensemble. The fusion of Morrison’s lyrics and the dreamy instrumentation offers a transcendent experience, leaving listeners entangled in its enchanting embrace. Astral Weeks stands as a paradigmatic example of how music can transcend temporal and stylistic confines, becoming a perennial touchstone for both listeners and burgeoning artists alike. Morrison’s ability to channel profound spiritual and emotional truths through an intricate interplay of words and melodies ensures that Astral Weeks remains an inexhaustible reservoir of artistic and introspective exploration.
Then we sat on our own star and dreamed of the way
That I was for you and you were for me
And then we danced the night away
And turned to each other, say, ‘I love you, I love you’
The way that young lovers do
Pink Floyd, ‘Wish You Were Here,’ 1975
Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here, is the follow-up album to their monumental success of The Dark Side of the Moon. The thematic backbone of Wish You Were Here revolves around absence—both personal and existential. Floyd’s Roger Waters conceived much of the album as a poignant response to his growing disenchantment with the music industry and his lingering grief over the departure of Syd Barrett, the band’s original visionary. This sense of absence is themed through various facets: from the alienation within society to the personal loss of a friend. The album begins with Shine On You Crazy Diamond, a nine-part opus that serves as a tribute to Barrett, whose mental decline and eventual departure from the band left a lasting impact. Waters articulates this in his lyrics, and David Gilmour’s melancholy guitar solos echo the haunting absence of their lost bandmate. The title track, Wish You Were Here, crystallizes the album’s central theme with its introspective lyrics reflecting on disconnectedness and yearning. The titular track embodies the essence of disconnection through lines like “We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,” encapsulating the repetition and stagnation that can pervade modern life. The theme of absence also manifests through its critique of the music industry, which is depicted as a machine that commodifies art and artists for profit. The tracks Welcome to the Machine and Have a Cigar address the corrosive effects of the music business, where the industry is portrayed as insincere and exploitative. Have a Cigar, with its biting sarcasm, critiques the industry’s ruthless exploitation of artists, embodying the theme of disillusionment. The iconic line, “Welcome my son, welcome to the machine,” in Welcome to the Machine introduces a metaphorical depiction of the industry’s dehumanizing nature.
The production of Wish You Were Here was a tumultuous process, with the band grappling with creative challenges and the pressure to follow up on their previous success. Recorded at London’s Abbey Road Studios, the sessions were characterized by a collective writer’s block and personal struggles among band members. Musically, Wish You Were Here exhibits the band’s quintessential progressive rock style, characterized by elaborate compositions and intricate soundscapes. Rick Wright’s majestic synthesizer work, Gilmour’s soulful guitar riffs, and Nick Mason’s precise drumming create an enveloping sonic atmosphere. Notably, the album’s experimental roots are retained, seamlessly integrating non-conventional sounds, such as the reverb-laden acoustic guitar duets in Wish You Were Here and experimental synth arrangements. The opening of Shine On You Crazy Diamond uses a phased synthesizer to create an expansive, otherworldly sound, while the closing of the same piece gently fades with the sound of the wind, symbolizing an eternal drifting away. Ultimately, the enduring significance of the album lies in its universal reliability. Wish You Were Here remains an exploration of personal and existential absence, making sense of individual disillusionment within a broader societal framework.
So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell? Blue skies from pain?
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell?
Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change? Did you exchange
A walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?