Well, Dye My Hair Orange And Call Me Ziggy!

Throughout music history, I doubt there will ever be another artist to will produce the same amount of albums as David ‘dye my hair orange and call me Ziggy’ Bowie.

The controversial and predominately dance album, ‘Let’s Dance,’ was his staggering 23rd album by the time it was released in April 1983. Since the days of strong make up and new romantic themes twenty years before Boy George, Bowie had never ceased to stun, shock and amaze audiences across the world. Taking on various visual characters over the years, the famous of these being Ziggy Stardust and The Thin White Duke, it would have seemed that these guises were now far behind him and that what we saw, standing in front of us in the early eighties was the real man himself.

Notably, the best era of his life, (depending on how old you are) the eighties seemed to open up yet another twist in the extraordinary career of this now sneering, hardened young man from his equally sneering native Brixton. He had already embraced the eras of glam rock and new romantics, both of which, he had literally invented, so the vast stage of dance music was just another challenge to try, and very successfully he did.

Incorporating some of his most powerful compositions, ‘Lets’ Dance,’ was to be the most poignant of his releases during the eighties decade, but it was towards the eighties, that his song writing talents took an awkward nosedive, but only temporarily. However, one could argue that ‘Let’s Dance’ was actually the height of his career and that it was going to be an album that he never quite reached the dizziness of again…

With no actual track listing on either the album cover or the inner sleeve (apart from a tiny list in the corner which only becomes visible at a later date), the album has already thrown you into immediate confusion and at the mercy of it’s artist. (We take this review, primarily from the vinyl release) so, whilst feeling increasingly giddy from reading the disc, whilst it spins effortlessly around on the turntable, we discover the list as follows;

1. Modern Love
2. China Girl
3. Let’s Dance
4. Without You
5. Ricochet
6. Criminal World
7. Cat People (putting out fire)
8. Shake it.

Perhaps the initial strike of worry here is that it only features eight tracks rather a cheat for the purchaser by today’s standards, but this was how vinyl was in ‘the good old days.’ Nevertheless, the content of the album is a pure dedicated moment to the decade that we celebrate so much (we were spoilt with the four hour programme on ‘things that embarrassed you about the eighties’ which appeared on TV last week.) The first track; funky, jumpy and hand clapping-ly exhausting, it is fitting for the awful picture of Bowie on the front cover complete with long shorts and boxing gloves. If this track won’t have you jumping around with leg warmers and a ra ra skirt by the end of the first chorus, I defy that you ever remembered the eighties in the first place. This particular track marked a point in time when music was undecidedly dull and lifeless. We were, at the time, surrounded with synths and electronic outfits, and the sound of the real band with real musicians had faded away, or at least, just on a long holiday, so with the arrival of the refreshing sound of Bowie’s thunderous drum beats and swirling guitars in this album, it was a light relief to hear ‘happy’ dance music again. This particular track was uplifting, and dare I say it, jolly. Released in March 1983, a month in front to the album release, it flew to number one, his fourth in his career so far.

On the other side of the proverbial coin, we had the nest track being, the extreme, sultry subject of ‘Chine Girl,’ a collaboration, originally with Iggy Pop way back in 1977. Surprising actually, when it’s freshness seems almost fitting, musically today, as it was then. It’s back drop, dripping with sex also heralded the very banned video, which naturally, boosted the sales of this as a single even more. Released in quick succession in June 1983, in sat, impressively at number two. With it’s slight slant on an oriental backing loosely tapped out on synths, it was appealing due to Bowie’s super sexed, deep vocals and those infamously darkly spoken words, ‘oh, baby, just you shut your mouth..’ Funny, how the only thing that springs to my mind on hearing his track, is the incredible length of the young lady’s nails! A strange track, that is instancing even if it does feature a guitar solo that sounds incredibly like Chris Rea’s ‘the Road To Hell.’ Nevertheless, it is a track that steals the show on this album.

The slightly more upbeat, Let’s Dance,’ may have you believing that it could be a take on some Black Lace B side with a title like that, but, I found, in my youth that it did nothing to want me to get up and dance. Perhaps I still had, in the back of my mind, the shamefully bad acting of Patsy Kensit on ‘Absolute Beginners,’ where the track, ‘Modern Love,’ came from. However, this track oozes yet more sex appeal which I must admit, never did anything for me since my mother, at the time, with her short hair and striking cheek bones, was stopped in London as asked for her autograph , when she declined, the person promptly told her that ‘Let’s Dance wasn’t that good anyway…’ Enough of that, this track is frighteningly strong in it’s simply drum a compliment and ordering lyrics. ‘Put on your red shoes and dance the blues,’ he shouts, okay Dave, what ever you say. With that gravely voice and a face to match like he has just eaten something similar, you are hardly going to argue…

It would appear that ‘Without You,’ is somewhat disappointing after we are treated to the very best of what is on offer so far. Perhaps labelling the same as a Harry Nilsson record was the first mistake and using the same disjointed beat of ‘Ashes To Ashes’ as it’s opening bar was the second. However, this track is unassuming and inoffensive in that it shows no apparent equality to the previous tracks and dose not wish to stand in the same vein anyway. It is merely a track thrown on in the middle to allow you to go and put the kettle on. Whilst Bowie reminds us that even in his’ old age’ here, he can still hit those very high notes without the request of any sharp implement to the going area.

So, surely we shouldn’t be even more disappointed when we hear ‘Ricochet,’ but we are. Pushing towards the military aspect of Bowie’s, sometimes, compositions, it is disjointed and angular in it’s sound. It is held together loosely by the seems and hangs in the air life a damp shirt on a breezy day. The introduction to a brass section that appear to be playing along to a totally different track does not do the track any more justice that it urgently needs. Please avoid, this track will not have to in the same frame of mind when discovering a dynamic invention…Thankfully this track didn’t even appear as a B side to anything…

‘Criminal World‘, on the other hand, offers a similar theme to ‘Let’s Dance,’ at the break. Since this perhaps is the only good reason for listening to this track, I should leave it there, but I must admit, this track, will irritatingly grow on you after a few plays. It is not actually too bad, and perhaps judging on the excellent of the first three tracks, the rest of the album should have been built up on just these three themes, not unlike The Housemartins’ début album, ‘London 0 Hull4,’ where they took the popularity of ‘Happy Hour,’ and built the entire album around just that one track. It was an immediate success, and I think that’s what Bowie should have done here. These last track show no apparent reason for appearing on this album in the first place. Again, ‘Cat People,’ gathers a little more in the intelligence department, although this is short lived perhaps only on this particular track. It is a short enlightenment to the initially three tracks. Using the same hollowed guitar break as ‘Modern Love,’ this track is perhaps the nearest we get to that perfect fou8nd at the beginning of the album. Pleasantly recognisable as a Bowie classy hit, this track will get your feet tapping again after a long break so far…
Released as a single in April 1982 (strangely a while before the album0 it only got as far as number 26.

The final track on this mixed album is ‘Shake it.’ No, not an early Fleetwood Mac hit or even a remote track by The Swinging Blue Jeans,’ it is, unfortunately rather like listening to ‘Let’s Dance,’ in a minor key. I got the idea, on hearing this track, that Bowie had come to the end of his budget for the album ant they had to come up with something quick and cheaply to finish off the album. The stretched backing which has of course, been pinched from the title track, does not give out any impression of a classy Bowie hit. We can remember the painfully cringing project entitled, ‘Tin Machine,’ which the great man brought to us from 1989 to 1992, and we have, what I consider to be a taster of that right here. Some fairly mediocre backing singers were brought in here to jazz up the dullness of this track, yet they fail to do that successfully. This track appeared as the B side to China Girl.

This album can only be summarised as this; it hangs completely off the success of it’s first three tracks. It would appear that Bowie if far better working alone on a composition rather than allowing a small team of writers to write for him. This comes to the fore in his interpretation of a song. If it is a track that he has given birth to alone, he performs it with better voice, character, and a strong element of perfection and quality. When it is the ‘brain child’ of someone else, it is comes through in his performance. We get to hear both solo work and team writing in this album, and when listened to on a couple of a occasions, it becomes more and more apparent that this is the case, particularly with this album.



‘Shake it, Modern Love, Let’s Dance, Without You and Ricochet,’ - all written by David Bowie.
‘China Girl’ - written by Bowie and Iggy Pop
‘Cat People’ - written by Giorgio and Bowie
‘Criminal World’ - written by Peter Godwin, Duncan Browne and Sean Lyons.
EMI 1983
Produced by Bowie/Nile Rodgers



©m.duffy 2006.