Generations of vacant pop music have come and gone, leaving the surviving population with their pitfalls and lessons learned. And, just as Vietnam should have taught the world something on the subject of political warfare but didn’t, Disco tortured the music scene, leaving sonic scars for decades. However, the overall message sent by the corpse of our trashy 1970s hooker is not what we expected. We don’t hear from his cold lips: “Fill your ears with the immortal sounds of classics transcribed into rock ‘n’ roll beats and cool guitar melodies,” or “Depth is greater than lifestyle 100% of the time, guaranteed.” No. What we hear now from this strangled synth whore is “Disco sucks.” Nearly a decade of clubbing and mismatched music can teach us nothing, it seems, but to avoid falling into the EXACT same trap. Nothing more, sometimes much less.
David Bowie stands as a perfect effigy of the bitter influence of ignorance. Having rocked the world with the first wave of his albums, he fell into a gorge longer and deeper than New Jersey. Seemingly working for nothing more than drug money, we find the musician’s talent stifled when he applies the trends of the time (DISCO) to his once slick brand of style on his lackluster 1975 album (lazy musicians take note, here) Young Americans.
Beginning with the title track “Young Americans,” Bowie shows evidence of an already exploited style of music, via the Philadelphia “Soul” movement. Showing none of his prowess in the English language, he creates such clever vernacular-laden displays as:
You’re not a pimp and you’re not a hustler
A pimp has a Cadi and a lady has a Chrysler
Black got respect, and white got his soul train
Mama’s got cramps, and look how your hands are shaking
I heard the news today, oh boy
I have a suite and you have defeat
Isn’t there a man you can’t say more to?
And isn’t there a woman I can punch in the jaw?
Lyrics I think Eazy-E might have stolen, early in his career.
With creative trends like emo and hardcore floating around our weary ears, it’s important these days to be mindful of story failures to prevent them from happening again. Consider the trend in the massacre of popular songs in seemingly relevant versions of the time. Bowie does this on his cover of The Beatles’ “Across the Universe,” taking a concept-rich tune and turning it into an airheaded disco groove. Apparently there’s a 10-year wait time to turn pop tunes from the past into pop tunes from the present (ie Taking Back Sunday’s “Message in a bottle”, 311’s “Lovesong”, Cake’s “War Pigs”, etc…) surely we learn nothing from the tragedies that were and are.
As a last attempt to pimp the public, Bowie offers us the latest song from Young Americans, “Fame”. In an effort to salvage some of the love I normally have for the glam-rocker, I will say that he does a good job, when he wants to, of taking a trashy style of music and making it very, very mediocre. Fame is nothing more than the soulless, mechanized disco march that the coke-mad masses of the day coveted, and Bowie fed them with a British accent.
If you’re looking for a Greenday-esque ’70s album that tests the taste, sells out, and isn’t a blast, look no further than David Bowie’s subconscious warning for the future regarding bland pop music. young americans.
