Depth of Focus: David Bowie, Part 3

Diamond dogs in the rough...


It may come as a surprise to some that David Bowie, despite the lack of many major hits, produced a handful of his best videos in the 1990's. Rather than settling into mediocrity or just recycling the rewards of his fame, the artist continued to explore new ways of expressing himself visually. Bowie has always faired well in collaborative work, and in this era he expands beyond the Mallets and Rocks of the world to recruit new directorial talents. The results are largely positive - with a few videos here standing amongst the best of the decade.

In case you missed them, here's Part 1 and Part 2 of our feature.

Real Cool World: The 90's


"Heaven's In Here"(1990) Tin Machine
dir. by ?
Bowie looks as cool as ever, but something about the guitar wankery doesn't suit him - probably because he isn't the one doing it. Tin Machine was by no means a great album, but if the band had lasted a few more years they might have found commercial success amongst the angsty-bands of the 90's. Thankfully Bowie didn't go that route, though he may have directly inspired it.


"Fame 90" (1990) Remix Single
dir. by Gus van Sant
The man who went on to submit Golden Palm-winning films at Cannes here directs Bowie through some interpretive dance alongside professional dancer Louise LeCavalier - all while clips from classic Bowie videos burn up around them. Which suggests, like the lyrics of the song, that the flames of stardom can keep you sane just as they push you towards insanity.


"Pretty Pink Rose" w/ Adrian Belew (1990)
dir. by Tim Pope
Belew is a sort of virtuoso, playing multiple instruments on numerous records with legendary musicians (from Talking Heads to Frank Zappa) as well as being a vital member of the band King Crimson himself. Bowie first used Belew's talents on his 1979 album Lodger, where the American played lead guitar and supported him on tour. Thankfully these two skilled artists combine their formidable gifts to come up with...a ridiculous music video.


"Real Cool World" (1992) Cool World OST
dir. by Ralph Bakshi
I've never seen this film, but apparently it involves humans having sex with cartoons - and the obvious repercussions of such acts. It also, not surprisingly, was released four years after Who Framed Roger Rabbit?. Bowie's Michael Jackson impression actually works pretty well, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to rent the movie this weekend.


"Jump They Say" (1993) Black Tie White Noise
dir. by Mark Romanek
Bowie always had a fascination with the paranoia of 1984 (at one point planning a concept album around the book), and in this superb video he is able to further explore ideas of 'big brother' and fear of the unknown. Standing on the edge of a futuristic corporate building, Bowie's character looks down at the metaphysical and literal prison bars of the busy street below. In many ways he just wants to escape the corner in which he is boxed, but at the same time he feels a despair and self-pity which will provide the final push over the edge.

Of course the pressure which torments him is induced by his job and the stifling society around him. Romanek borrows from Temple's "Day-In Day-Out" with the white handheld camera, which recalls the themes of social corruption highlighted in that video. Yet the majority of the crisis is mental, and the star is shown repeatedly rubbing his forehead in existential pain. In general Romanek's video is masterfully filled with detailed imagery so that not a single frame is wasted. There is a particularly striking visualization of the character's sense of worthlessness as Bowie - one of the iconic faces in pop culture history - disappears into an assemblage of suited businessman. When he doesn't stand out in a crowd we know there's something seriously wrong with the place.

Another crucial shot comes when we see the character's face after he has hit the ground and presumably died. We have rarely, if ever, seen Bowie's normally pristine face so mangled and broken - and in showing us this side the artist expresses a rare moment of sincerity. Bowie had lost his step-brother to suicide prior to writing this song, and the physical pain of that experience is worn openly. He exhumes his frustrations through the images and questions posed here.

Neither the director nor the singer paint suicide as a simple right or wrong choice. It's at times shown as a desperate plea for attention, while at others a Christ-like sacrifice aimed at inspiring a mechanical world. But whatever the interpretation, the moment when Bowie removes his tie - standing above the world - is key. In the end, whether you choose to do as "they say" or make your own decisions in life, the universal desire of humanity remains liberation. No bird enjoys being trapped in a cage.


"Black Tie White Noise" (1993) Black Tie White Noise
dir. by Mark Romanek
The return of Mick Ronson wasn't the monumental event some had hoped for, but it did - along with Bowie's recent marriage to Iman - breathe fresh excitement into the artist's career. If Black Tie White Noise isn't superior to his pop albums of the late 80's, it is at least more adventurous. And perhaps nowhere is that more obvious than on the genre-bending title track featuring unibrowed R&B star Al B. Sure!.

Though the song struggles to meld its disparate parts, the video manages to speak to the Los Angeles race riots which inspired the lyrics. Filling the screen with people from multiple walks of life, Bowie once again pines for equality and fairness in a troubling society. It works much better in the hands of Romanek than it has in others, mainly because he doesn't use foreign fetishes as the root of his argument. In fact there are so many stark and startling shots that one can almost ignore the sometimes cringe worthy lyrics - almost.


"Miracle Goodnight" (1993) Black Tie White Noise
dir. by Matthew Rolston
A simple kaleidoscopic effect lifts a series of odd images into the realm of compelling surrealism. Bowie dances with himself, cross-dresses and shares the screen with a scantily clad cowgirl - all within director Matthew Rolston's house of mirrors. The theme of dueling personalities is not only established by the reflections, but in the crisscrossing of traditional and challenging images of male sexuality. In one scene Bowie is covered by beautiful writhing women while in the next he poses dressed in high heels. The gaudy blatancy of the cowgirl's come-ons, backed by bright neon colors, pale in comparison to the black and white eroticism of these scenes - or the classic Greek art referenced here.

Yet the real impressive aspect of Rolston's work is how each shot is so carefully composed and balanced, while at the same time deftly layered with the music. From the toe-tapping Bowie that highlights the bridge, to the sublime editing of the finale - it's a visual feast of shocking and engaging ideas.


"I Feel Free" [Cream cover] (1993)
dir. by David Mallet
The performance video is interesting for its dramatic stage lighting and Bowie jamming out on the saxophone. It also marks a return to David Mallet's career-defining vision of Bowie.


"You've Been Around" (1994) Black Tie White Noise
dir. by David Mallet
A very minimalistic approach which brings out the classy trumpets and gospel choir which carry the song. And in case you're wondering, you aren't going crazy, this upload is not properly synced with the music.


"Night Flights" (1994) Black Tie White Noise
dir. by David Mallet
The interview that precedes the video is far more interesting than what accompanies the song. I wonder if Beyonce used the Black Tie White Noise Videos as inspiration when she filmed a million videos at once for B'Day?


"Buddha of Suburbia" (1994) The Buddha of Suburbia
dir. by Roger Michell
People kind of forget that there was this album of new material released as a soundtrack for a BBC show called The Buddha of Suburbia. In fact, it's ignored so much that we were unable to track down a clip of this anywhere on the Internet (little help?).

Yes, that is a young Naveen Andrews!


"The Hearts Filthy Lesson" (1995) Outside
dir. by Samuel Bayer
Bayer, who directed Nirvana's iconic "Smells Like Teen Spirit" video, developed a creepy and memorable style in the 90's with grimy lighting and off-kilter cuts. Bowie's impending collaboration with Trent Reznor and his appearance on the soundtrack to Seven seem right at home with the industrial violence of his work here. While at times it just feels like excessively gory shock value, Bowie is in fact exploring tense themes of artistic and social relevance.

From the tarnished existence of modern art to the spread of HIV/Aids across the globe, Bayer's fantasy is in fact a representation of society's very real problems. Freddie Mercury - a good friend of Bowie's - had recently succumbed to the rapidly spreading sexually transmitted disease, and here we see both needles passing through skin and simulated sexual acts. But the "filthy lesson" Bowie sings of isn't "use condoms" or "avoid drugs" - it's realizing the horrible and scary consequences of ignoring a serious global epidemic.

The destruction of all things beautiful is simply an extension of that message. The mannequins which are torn open show mechanical hearts within - lifeless people and art. The imploding chaos of the "last supper" suggests a necessary revolution resulting from all this ignorance and suppression. Not surprisingly, the messiah appears to be Bowie and his music - once again standing on the outside.


"Strangers When We Meet" (1995) Outside
dir. by Samuel Bayer
Bayer returns with more silent-film referencing cinematography and set-design, but things are drastically less gloomy this time around. Though even as things look a little brighter, it's clear that there is no lack of despair in the room. The woman who dances with Bowie almost looks like the plastered models from the previous video come to life, but she is more Raggedy Ann inside.

We already knew that Bowie had a thing for unknown and inanimate lovers, but we soon learn that Bayer enjoys scenes of mob violence just as much. The resistance here is rooted in Bowie's own heart - trapped in a circus of his own creation. Though as always, he doesn't seem quite ready to leave just yet.


"Hallo Spaceboy" [Pet Shop Boys Remix] (1996) Outside
dir. by David Mallet
Even though we immediately recognize Mallet's cinematic gaze, the 1996 version is decidedly updated from his earlier incarnation of soft-lighting and low-angle hero shots. The influx of pop culture references and exterior film clips (not to mention some really world class editing) make this nostalgic remix video an unforgettable modern peak for Bowie. It also raises that age-old question - how come Pet Shop Boys are so succesful in England but not in the States?

...back to Part 2...____________________...forward to Part 4...


Previous Depth of Focus Features: Radiohead / Bjork / Michael Jackson

Depth of Focus: David Bowie, Part 2

Moving forward through the long, long video career of Ziggy Stardust...


Entering the third decade of his life in entertainment, Bowie didn't slow down a bit - pushing his fame and creativity past the brink of super stardom. While some may argue his best days were already behind him, as the 80's moved forward the artist was in the midst of his most succesful reinvention yet. Releasing his best-selling album, working in movies and collaborating with top artists was just part of the ever-changing game for David Bowie.

In case you missed it, here's Part 1 of the feature. Part 2 is split into two segments, the second of which will be posted below tomorrow.

Loving the Alien: The Let's Dance Era

"Cat People (Putting Out Fire)" (1983) Let's Dance
dir. by David Mallet
Let's Dance was Bowie's most internationally succesful album to date, and the video for "Cat People" finds the artist at the peak of his popularity. The stage show is grandly orchestrated and exuberantly executed, but the song - much like the entire second half of the album - is only mildly thrilling. Thus, as far as performance videos go, it's one of Bowie's weaker efforts.


"Let's Dance" (1983) Let's Dance
dir. by David Mallet
Bowie plays both the villain and hero in this confrontational video set in the Australian outback. Director David Mallet (who at this point has linked his entire career with that of Bowie) tells a story of discrimination and resistance within a still largely class-based modern society. The white upper class characters (one of whom is played by Bowie) look down upon the less wealthy workers (all of whom have darker skin) and reinforce their inferior status in the community. Yet with a little inspiration from Bowie the musician, the forgotten folks don't let the perception of others control their self-image for very long.

Mallet depicts the initial psychological effects of social snobbery with a few potent dream sequences. As a high-heeled lady towers over a worker scrubbing her floor, the diligent employee imagines herself cleaning congested streets in the middle of the city. Drivers and passengers leer at her blocking the traffic and the woman feels as if she is one with the dirt which she so tirelessly washes away. Her job seems pointless in this context - only serving to remind her of her facelessness within this ignorant crowd.

Yet being stepped on in this way doesn't just influence your nightmares, it has a distinct effect on your dreams as well. The young couple walk by shops and boutiques which promise happiness in the form of luxury - or a pair of red shoes. But the characters reject this false ideal, and they do so with the help of music and self-expression (of course dancing). One of the final shots of the video shows Bowie standing between the workers and images of Sydney high class - art represented as the great leveler and source of hope for the downtrodden.


"China Girl" (1983) Let's Dance
dir. by David Mallet
It's ironic that Bowie follows up one of his most socially conscious videos with a particularly insensitive one. Though upon release the biggest controversy was Bowie's bared backside, watching it today one can't avoid the blatant fetishization of Asian women throughout. The lyrics were supposedly originally a reference to cocaine (as in "China white") and written for Iggy Pop a few years earlier, but when Bowie decided to use it on his own work he deleted an introduction that might have made that clearer. What's left is a From Here to Eternity-referencing video that wants to free women from suppressive cultures, but ends up reinforcing already confining stereotypes.

The work begins with vaguely "eastern" music and an image of a decorated woman trapped behind barbed wire. Bowie, through his charms, is able to illicit emotion and personality out of her previously solemn face - proving that she is indeed more than simply a caricature. Yet the repition of "little china girl" - which sounds a lot like little china doll - paints a negative picture of women (particularly Asian women) as fragile infantile creatures who need the nurturing and help of men to express themselves. The shot of Bowie and the girl embracing on the beach only reiterates this point - the man being on top and all.

Perhaps even more interesting is what the video says about Bowie's attraction to and love of image. Even though he often challenges or dissects his fascination with guise and show through his videos, he still clearly enjoys inhabiting and creating statuesque characters - personified here in his doll-like love interest. Bowie has always criticized societies stifling codes of behavior, and perhaps his personas are in response to, or a product of, that suppression. But one can't ignore how influential the artist's promotion of image - particularly that of cool detachment - has been on the history of popular music and culture. Sometimes Bowie's robotic steeliness can feel very confining in it, of itself.


"Modern Love" (1983) Let's Dance
dir. by Jim Yukich
The song recently appeared on the soundtrack for the film The Business (2005), and thus this YouTube clip attributes the video to the movie. But the footage is clearly from the 80's and comes from a time when Bowie was enormously popular worldwide. Their are two amusing back-up singers and an impressive stage show, but the song really carries things with its catchy beat and always interesting lyrics. In fact it might have been much more fun to explore Bowie's ideas on love, religion and humanity in-depth.


"Blue Jean" (1984) Tonight
dir. by Julien Temple
This clip is only a short glimpse of the 21-minute epic production that Temple directed in anticipation of Bowie's Tonight album. While the video succeeded in vaulting "Blue Jean" into the top ten, there was no helping the public's lukewarm reception of the rest of the album. Nevertheless the music video is one of the earliest long-form narrative style releases, and features humor, lots of dancing and a compelling enough story.

Bowie shows some acting range by playing his dreamy stage persona and a dorkier version of himself simultaneously. With his face covered in paint and a turban on his head, the light reflecting off his get-up makes him look nearly hand-drawn or digitally animated at times. While the song seems to make reference to earlier hit "Jean Genie," the way in which the audience is blindly rapt in the movement of the performer (mimicking his actions often) reminds us of "Fashion." Except this time he appears far less critical of that phenomenon.


"Blue Jean" [alternate version]
dir. by Julien Temple
This faux-live video is memorable for its TRL-setting, hotel lobby introduction from Bowie and really great performance from the star (what an outfit!). The first video juggles a number of things but here Temple focuses purely on the song, bringing out the chorus with panning shots of everyone singing in unison. It's enough to make you dig up that dusty copy of Tonight and wonder why it is so oft maligned.

Having traveled this far into Bowie's video career without mentioning MTV was probably a mistake, as many forget he was just as vital to the success of music television as Michael Jackson(if not more so). It wasn't just videos either, Bowie was really setting up - as this work illustrates - the television pop star model that lasted for years to come.


"Loving the Alien" (1985) Tonight
dir. by David Mallet & David Bowie
Whereas in the past Bowie always represented a feeling of disconnect through images of space travel, during this period he goes with more literal ideas of "foreign" to represent not fitting in. He melds Buddhist and Hindu visuals with Middle Eastern and Islamic iconography (they're all the same anyway, right?) - with a story that holds more than a passing resemblance to "China Girl." The key is that no matter how he chooses to convey his ideas, ever since the days of "Major Tom" it has been Bowie himself who feels more "alien" than anyone else.

Here he has trouble looking in the mirror and perhaps imagines the entire affair from inside an insane asylum. He attempts to hide his insecurities through exterior changes (the backing band seems to reference the Tin Man from "Ashes to Ashes"), but this fails as the burqa-ed woman throws his money back at him. Before Bowie can ever escape that room he must first come to terms with his own humanity - maybe start believing that he isn't that weird after all (nobody is).


"This is Not America" w/ Pat Metheny Group
dir. by John Schlesinger
The film from which these scenes are taken, The Falcon and the Snowman (starring Sean Penn and Timothy Hutton), tells the true story of two Americans who decide to sell secrets to the Soviet Union during the Cold War. While one character is motivated by money and the other a sense of idealism, both are feeling disillusioned with their country and government. This impression of lost innocence - in regards to society's perception of American ideals - is expressed in the song through images of melting snow men and bloody falcons.


"Dancing in the Street" w/ Mick Jagger (1985) Absolute Beginners OST
dir. by David Mallet
You see, umm, Bowie and Jagger are imitating each other, err, I mean it's supposed to be kitschy, uh, never mind. There's no point in explaining this silliness - you either love it or love to hate it. There were rumors at the time that these two were an item, but it's unclear how those got started.


"Absolute Beginners" (1985) Absolute Beginners OST
dir. by Julien Temple
If you take out the film tie-in and look past the blatant sexism of the catty female, this is really one of Bowie's finest videos - at the very least one of his best looking. Naturally he slips quite easily into the film noir genre, and director Julien Temple (who also directed the feature film of the same name) uses harsh lighting and more than a passing nod to "Billie Jean" to create an exciting environment of back alleys and empty cafes at night. There's a throw away reference to race riots (which only serves to magnify the peculiarity of the female character's costume), but this is really about Bowie's search for easy answers in a tough world.

In the classic fable, the zebra gets his stripes when he is burned while fighting a baboon for the right to give access to water to all animals. Here Bowie is torched by love and lust, in pursuit of his ideals. There's also a revival of the imagery from "Rock 'N Roll Suicide" - cigarettes which never last long enough, much like the innocent pleasures of new love.

Navigating the Labyrinth:


"When the Wind Blows" (1986) When the Wind Blows OST
dir. by Jimmy T. Murakami
We had trouble locating the actual music video for this (if anyone has a tip, holla!), and instead posted a link to the film from which it was taken. The original video featured scenes from the movie with Bowie's face on top, and not much else. The song features bleak and pessimistic lyrics - much like the darkly humorous nuclear war themes of the animated film. Worth renting if you've got the time.


"Underground" (1986) Labyrinth OST
dir. by Steve Barron
This is one of the better movie tie-in videos ever made, with director Steve Barron actually using Labyrinth as a source of thematic inspiration rather than merely a promotional tool. Here the claustrophobic maze is within Bowie's own head - where he spirals down through a myriad of his past masks and characters. Yet when faced with the ultimate decision to turn to the dark side (er, represented by some cuddly puppets), Bowie releases a hand-drawn sketch he holds inside. It appears the only away for him to avoid complete madness, is to dig further into himself and his art.


"As the World Falls Down" (1993) Labyrinth OST
dir. by Steve Barron
Though it was fantasy film of the highest pedigree, Labyrinth has been a cult favorite since the early nineties due to Bowie as much as Henson or Lucas. He not only gives a wickedly strange performance, but carries himself with some very creepy sexual energy - on top of composing a few memorable songs for the soundtrack. In fact, for many kids growing up in the '90's, Labyrinth was their first introduction to the weird brilliance of Bowie.

The story of maturity and retaining one's childhood fantasies is also very relevant to Bowie the musician. Though his fantasies do seem to involve mainly himself as a space cowboy or an irresistible sex icon (sometimes both). Barron chooses to play up the latter of the two, underlining what the NY Times called a "driving, sensual appeal" in the soundtrack. In the film his Jareth character is the villain who takes Jennifer Connelly's baby brother away, but also the one who spurs a subtle sexual awakening in the pre-pubescent girl.

The more you study it, the more absurd (perhaps brilliant) this movie becomes.


"Day-in Day-out" (1987) Never Let Me Down [full clip]
dir. by Julien Temple
Because of the controversial nature of some themes, this video was often banned or re-cut for television. The YouTube clip is case in point, so make sure to click the link to the longer version (though still edited) on iFilm above. A particularly important edit was made with the close-up on the child's building blocks near the climax of the video. In the edited version they read, "Luck", "Look" and "Mom," but originally those first two words were "Fuck" and "Food." The changed version doesn't make any sense, but the real one is a bleak distillation of what life will be for the impoverished (male) child.

Julien Temple became Bowie's go-to-guy for longer narrative videos, and he brings his flare for extreme imagery to this rather transparent video (which may be in response to criticism that the song's message was buried beneath it's over-produced sound). Once again (as in "Absolute Beginners") Temple presents the female body as prey chased through the night in a male-dominated environment. On the outer edges there is commentary about the treatment of poverty in America and the governments ineptitude in bridging the class divide (one of Bowie's favorite subjects). But at the center is the blatant rape of the protagonist and the second-class status of women in modern society. From the strip clubs that illuminate the background to the lover who deserts her in times of need - the woman is constantly reminded of her dependency on corrupt men.

Yet through it all Bowie can't resist making references to his own life - with the woman donning a Ziggy Stardust wig just as she enters into prostitution. Which either supports or counters those critics who claimed the artist had "sold out" in the 80's. It also raises the question of whether Temple and Bowie are themselves guilty of making their social commentary on gender at the expense of the woman - selling sex in order to speak of equality. The angels with fake video cameras imply hypocrisy, but the pretense here extends beyond religious morality.


"Time Will Crawl" (1987) Never Let Me Down
dir. by Tim Pope
There's sexuality of all kinds on display in this mock-documentary of backstage rehearsals on Bowie's Glass Spider Tour. The song itself continues themes from When the Wind Blows, lamenting the destruction of the Earth at the hands of pollution and capitalism. But it's a pretty stale affair overall, with the only highlights being the campy innuendos and a Peter Frampton cameo.


"Never Let Me Down" (1987) Never Let Me Down
dir. by Jean Baptiste-Mondino
Never Let Me Down is often cited as Bowie's worst album, and the videos don't do much to refute that opinion. The opening narration sinks this one before it ever gets off the ground - putting us to sleep almost immediately. Baptiste-Mondino's creates an atmosphere of sexy boredom to bring out the melancholy notes of the song, but the sepia smokiness actually does bore us - and far too easily. The only attraction through the rest of the video are people humping each other (which isn't all that hot) and Bowie laying it down on harmonica (which is).

Most importantly: though we respect young Americans looking for a good time at an all-night dance-a-thon/orgy - this is surely no place for impressionable young minds!? Or is it all actually part of the young girl's fantasy? Or perhaps Bowie's? Let's hope the answer is "no," on both counts.


"Tonight" w/ Tina Turner (1988) Tina Live in Europe
dir. by ?
For once, Bowie is soundly beaten in the categories of craziest hairdo and gaudiest outfit. Though he might still have the edge in make-up.

...back to Part 1... _______________________________ ...forward to Part 3...


Previous Depth of Focus Features: Radiohead / Bjork / Michael Jackson

Depth of Focus: David Bowie

Our continuing series on the video careers of major artists moves from the King of Pop to the Thin White Duke...


Nearly every discussion of David Bowie's career emphasizes his propensity for change, summed up by the much-beloved phrase "musical chameleon." As clichéd as that conversation can be, most of it holds true - Bowie has displayed an amazing ability to transform and reinvent his art on a consistent basis. Yet despite the constant flux of his image, there are a number of themes that have stayed throughout most of his five(!) decades of pop stardom.

Closely studying his video output is one way of observing Bowie's ideas develop over time. From the obvious love affair with extravagant show to his more subtle social commentaries, Bowie's videography is perhaps the most unique and influential of any one musician in the history of music video. He single-handedly revolutionized and expanded the form - much in the same way he altered the course of rock 'n roll. The most vital legacy of Bowie is not how often he switched costumes, but how drastically he changed the landscape of pop art in the process.

I Am What I Play: The Ziggy Stardust Era

"Let Me Sleep Beside You" (1969) David Bowie (Love You Till Tuesday)
dir. by Malcolm J. Thomson

The Elvis-gyrating and suggestive guitar motions are a modest preview of what was to come. This and the following two clips are taken from a marginally successful promotional film made in 1969, Love You Till Tuesday, meant to introduce the world to the future icon. Even as it failed to peak the interest of potential buyers, it's clear from the first shot that David Bowie is a performer, through and through.


"Love You Till Tuesday" (1969) David Bowie (Love You Till Tuesday)
dir. by Malcolm J. Thomson

(If you follow the link above you can watch the version without the movie titles.)

Bowie is in prime music hall form, reminding us all that he once shared a name with Davy Jones. Yet even at his cheesiest extreme, he has the camera wrapped around his flighty finger.


"Space Oddity" [Version 1] (1969) The Deram Anthology
dir. by Malcolm J Thomson

"Space Oddity" [Version 2] (1972) Space Oddity
dir. by Mick Rock

"Space Oddity" [Version 3] (1979)
dir. by David Mallet
It's hard to justify three videos for any single song, but "Space Oddity" is such a grand achievement that it almost demands repeated attention. The original version features an alternate take on the classic song, and is the most interesting of the three. Director Thomson supposedly planned a more risqué piece, with presumably more sex and psychedelia, but what remains is a humorous and creepy visualization of Major Tom's really bad trip - from which he never returns. The video also stars then girlfriend Hermione Farthingale, who apparently influenced the writing of the song. Her presence, and the way the video concludes, suggests that love (or lust) has pushed the singer into space as much as any drug might have.

Mick Rock's take, which is decidedly darker from the get go, matches Major Tom's disconnect from ground control with hints of paranoia and mental collapse. The green transmissions on the screen are the literal visualization of the sound waves, but the rest of the video peeks into the thoughts behind the notes. The sitting Bowie suggests that Tom never leaves the ground, and that his messages echo inside his own empty control room. The video also plays upon the dramatic impact of the music by emphasizing the guitar Bowie holds in his lap - music is yet another conduit to escape.

In the third video Bowie looks Dylan-esque with his curly hair and an acoustic strapped to his shoulder. There's also an improvement in trippy camera effects from the first one. The rumbling smoke at his feet and the occasional moments of darkness once again highlight the dual nature of the experience, but the decision to end in shadow makes director David Mallet's interpretation clear.


"John I'm Only Dancing" (1972) Ziggy Stardust (Single)
dir. by Mick Rock
It's fairly certain from the song itself that the singer wants much more than a dance, but even if he were simply seeking a tango, the performers in this video demonstrate the potential eroticism of "only dancing." The director does a good job of magnifying the three essential components of the track - the big drums, guitars and Bowie himself. While the singer sells desire and suppression through a few hand gestures and a pensive look on his face, the camera spins around him and his burning red hair.


"The Jean Genie" (1972) Aladdin Sane
dir. by Mick Rock
Co-starring Cynthia Foxe, a friend of Bowie and Andy Warhol, director Mick Rock channels the street-level Velvet of the song with the glamour of Hollywood life. Foxe looks a bit like Jean Harlowe, dancing energetic circles around the unaffected Ziggy Stardust - while Bowie jams out with the Spiders From Mars.


"Life on Mars" (1973) Hunky Dory
dir. by Mick Rock
The concepts of guise, ambiguity and escapism have been central to David Bowie's popular image from the very beginning. The artist himself was well aware of his propensity for show and his naturally androgynous looks - and he used both as tools for expressing a sense of detached cool and shifting identity. One of his many songs about the distant corners of space, "Life on Mars" uses the outsider persona to criticize and show frustration with the current state of the world.

Director Rock focuses deeply on Bowie's "alien" characteristics, and sets him up to contrast the "saddening bore" mentioned in the song. From heavy face paint to close-ups on his lengthy eyelashes, Bowie is the complete antithesis of the macho "cavemen" who pollute society with unnecessary "fighting in the dance hall." He's also covered in a stark white color that nearly blends him into the studio background - mirroring his feeling of despair in this suffocating social environment. It's the type of loneliness that leads one to search for answers beyond the stars.


"White Light, White Heat" (1973)

"Ziggy Stardust" (1973)

"Changes" (1973)
Ziggy Stardust - The Motion Picture dir. by D.A. Pennebaker
Though the film wasn't officially released until '83, this is a chronicle of the final performance of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars in 1973. Directed by the legendary Pennebaker (Don't Look Back), it captures David Bowie at his highest peak as a performer. The crowds are chaotic and obsessive, creating an infectious aura around the concert, which Pennebaker translates well.

The version of the Velvet Underground classic here is quite strong, which comes as no surprise considering Bowie's admiration for the band and his own ability to transform. Though upon release "Changes" wasn't a huge hit, it went on to become one of his most well-known and (for obvious reasons) representative of his entire career (and probably inspired this children's television theme).


"Rock 'n Roll Suicide" (1974) Ziggy Stardust
dir. by Mick Rock
Bowie physically connects with his audience through his music, and shots of his passionate singing are coupled with desperately reaching hands from the crowd. The footage is compiled from various shows during his tours in the 70's, and the singer is shown to joyfully personify the "cigarette" lifestyle promoted in his song. It isn't necessarily "live fast, die young," but more along the lines of - take as many drags while you still can.


"Little Drummer Boy" w/ Bing Crosby (1977)
dir. by Dwight Harrison
There's far less awkwardness here than you might expect, and that's chiefly due to Crosby's class and Bowie's more than capable acting skills (Labyrinth, The Prestige). Neither of them looks too uncomfortable, despite the fact the situation is clearly forced. It was a huge hit as well, reaching as high as # 3 on the UK charts.


"Be My Wife" (1977) Low
dir. by Stanley Dorfman
Low did in fact spawn singles, even if it didn't storm the charts like many of his preceding albums. Yet "Be My Wife" is probably the most accessible track on the landmark record that initiated his "Berlin Trilogy." The heavy riffs are emphasized here by the prominently placed electric guitar and the artist's emotive playing - all in a white setting that recalls the detached "Life on Mars."

There's an improvised feel to the song, and this spontaneity is brought out through Bowie's off-kilter acting - including a humorously blatant stroking of his guitar fret. The combination of this performance and his appearance is also purportedly meant to reference silent film star Buster Keaton. As we've seen recently with faux-punk glam bands, the silent form has become popular amongst musicians who admire its over-the-top acting and excessive use of eyeliner. Yet here Bowie uses it as a satirical tool to contrast the apparent earnestness of the lyrics, "share my life."


"Heroes" [Version 1] (1977) "Heroes"
dir. by Nick Ferguson
When the video starts, as Bowie stands in shadows backed by the bright lights, it almost looks as if he's wearing a gown - rather than a full-body leather jumper. In either case, the singer gives an impassioned performance of his huge hit, and even if the lyrics are more hopeful than sexy - a strategically placed light makes sure dirty things are on our mind throughout.


"Boys Keep Swinging" (1979) Lodger
dir. by David Mallet
Though "Boys Keep Swinging" was a top ten hit in the UK, RCA decided against releasing it as the lead single for Lodger in the US. There were a couple of reasons for that decision, but David Mallet's controversial video likely played a major role. It would be easy enough to censor lines like "When you're a boy, other boys check you out" (which is what Saturday Night Live did when Bowie performed it on the show), but the video makes it impossible to avoid the issues at hand.

Bowie attacks the unequal standards of our patriarchal society and plays on gender stereotypes with sarcastic lines like, "Life is a pop of the cherry" and "clothes always fit ya." Mallet begins the video with the singer in full-on Elvis mode, a mock representation of standard idealistic 'masculinity.' Then he slowly moves further and further away from that set-up, first introducing female back up singers and then revealing that they are all in fact Bowie in drag.

In the first two cases the singer rips off his wig and wipes away the lipstick, as if to confront the audience with the truth of their deeply held assumptions on gender. Yet he ends the video with wig on - showing us the silliness of even needing to remove make-up in order to prove your sex, and that neither women nor men should be treated differently based on their physical appearance alone. The sad part is, you couldn't easily get this on national television today.


"DJ" (1979) Lodger
dir. by David Mallet
The line, "I am a DJ, I am what I play," could easily be David Bowie's slogan as an artist. It not only implies multiple records spinning at once, but also references devotion to the craft which often supersedes any sense of personal identity. Though with his record smashing he seems to violently reject the trappings of music, his walk amongst the people rejuvenates his love for the role as spokesperson for the masses - "I've got believers."

Yet despite the onslaught of kisses and well-wishers, there remains an individual struggling to emerge from under the pressures of stardom. Bowie tears down the shades to reveal a piercing bright light, and defiantly smashes a mirror that reflects a false image. But even after spray-painting a window in rebellion, he dejectedly plants a record on the glass - as if forever trapped by his art.


"Look Back in Anger"(1979) Lodger
dir. by David Mallet
Mallet injects even more narcissism into Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray by having Bowie play the role of both painter and subject - locked in his personal attic. His obsession with his own beauty leads to physical weakness and rapid aging, not to mention psychological torment. Yet he isn't initially staring into the mirror, but merely looking at an artistic representation of himself (a fallen angel that rises in the opening). This created image is what he truly falls in love with.

In that way the video continues the themes we saw in "DJ" and "Boys Keep Swinging," a self-reflective look at Bowie the artist and how that affects or represents Bowie the person. Here the allure of performance and idolatry becomes an addiction, a room from which the artist cannot escape. Yet just as Wilde saw Dorian almost as an ideal (1), Bowie gives such an ecstatic portrayal of his character that one imagines he still finds much to love in that mirror.


"Ashes to Ashes" (1980) Scary Monsters
dir. by David Mallet & David Bowie
One of the most influential and popular videos of all-time, when released the £250,000 "Ashes to Ashes" was also the most expensive video ever made. Utilizing ambitious special effects, a larger cast and multiple locations - this was Bowie and Mallet's grandest visual statement to date. It's no shock then that the accompanying song is also considered amongst the more intricate works in the artist's oeuvre, and that the single went on to dominate the UK charts.

The video begins with Bowie standing on the red earth of a distant planet, proving there is indeed life on mars. Major Tom has landed here, for who knows how long, but Bowie seems far less sympathetic to his plight this time around. He comes right out and calls him a junky, and the bulldozing funeral march is his over-the-top burial of the character. Yet the appeal of Tom is tangled up in his mind too deeply to be removed completely - in the final shot the addicted inner Bowie looks sinisterly alive.

This prison-like distance from reality is represented in a number of novel ways throughout the video. The Wizard of Oz march down the yellow brick road to freedom conjures up thoughts of home, and we later see Bowie trapped in his mother's kitchen. The scene with one chair in a claustrophobic space represents his cognizant struggle to emerge from this hole (and was recently recycled by Sophie Muller for Rufus Wainwright's "Going to a Town"). Even when he seems to have escaped this place and takes a walk along the beach with his mother, he is still detached and lifeless. The greatest fear of the addict, like a convict released from jail, is that once they hit the ground they will fail to ever adjust back to life in the real world.


"Fashion" (1980) Scary Monsters
dir. by David Mallet
Hot on the heels of the success of "Ashes to Ashes," this video was another huge success for Mallet and Bowie. The subdued delivery of the chorus highlights the monotony of fickle fans ready to follow any command, and the costumed followers in line for more soup predict the zombies of "Thriller" (some of the dance moves do the same). Bowie has said the song is less about fascism than some critics have claimed, because rather than simply criticizing the suppression of the individual voice in an authoritarian environment - the singer is also wondering why people are so easily swayed by fashions in the first place. We laugh at the man awkwardly hopping on the dance floor or the drummer playing an invisible drum, yet we are all at one time or another victims of popular fads - even the trend-setting Bowie himself.


"Under Pressure" w/Queen (1981) Hot Space
dir. by David Mallet
Mallet does so much here with such a simple idea. His varying depictions of personally released pressure, contained pressure and the horrible effects of an entire society controlled by pressure are dead-on. Perhaps none more so than his theme, like that of the song, of love as the ultimate liberation from anxiety - both physically and mentally.


"The Drowned Girl" (1982) Baal EP
dir. by David Mallet

"Wild is the Wind" (1981) Baal EP
dir. by David Mallet
No matter how stripped-down the setting or sound, one can never entirely remove the dramatic performance from the dramatic performer. It shouldn't come as any shock that these songs were recorded for Bertolt Brecht’s play Baal, as they carry the weight of melodrama in every note. Mallet's videos are as deceptively simple here as Bowie's songs, using lights and shadows to create creeping suspense around the rising tension of the music. The close-ups on Bowie's facial expressions, and particularly his mouth, give emphasis to the words - and yet at the same time they strangely distract us from digesting the complete story.

...forward to Part 2...

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