Siamo nel 1971. Nello stesso anno di The Man Who Sold The World esce anche Hunky Dory. E la copertina parla chiaro: non è più possibile rendersi conto se Bowie, nella finzione dell'immagine pop-art, ma soprattutto nella realtà, sia un uomo o una donna. L'artista accede manifestamente al glam-rock nascente (soprattutto grazie all'opera dei T. Rex di Marc Bolan), ma il suo contributo sarà determinante nel rinnovamento del genere.
Pop spregiudicato, deturpazione del country americano, un'estetica basata sull'ambiguità e il trasformismo. Ecco dunque la celebre Changes, inizio folgorante di un album destinato a lasciare un segno nell'intera storia del rock. Semplicemente Changes, semplicemente cambiamenti. Semplicemente valutazioni sulle trasformazione, modificazioni, maschere da indossare nella vita. Ed è proprio una maschera quella indossata da Oh You Pretty Things, secondo brano e classico del disco. La ballata si traveste di disimpegno musicale caratterizzato da semplice sfuggevolezza, ma ciò che è sostanza sono la voce distorta, il tono spregiudicato e derisorio: Bowie assume le vesti androgine di Bowie e ciò che rimarrà sarà traccia indelebile nel glam rock. Segue poi la ballata Eight Line Poem sulla ritmica sincopata di un pianoforte delicato e brevi linee di chitarra. In tre pezzi Bowie dà prova di un cantato impostato su tre registri vocali totalmente differenti. Ma il meglio deve ancora arrivare.
Life On Mars?. Difficile non apprezzare questo brano. Sia dal punto di vista di un esperto critico musicale sia dal punto di vista di un profano del rock assuefatto dalle canzonette di Robbie Williams. Le orchestrazioni maestose, uno dei ritornelli più belli e convincenti della storia, arrangiamenti perfetti nella loro efficacia espressiva. Il tutto pervaso dal testo visionario caratterizzato da personaggi come John Lennon e Mickey Mouse. Naturalmente c'è anche altro: il brano spazia dalla parodia all'ibridismo dei generi, lo sprofondamento nel consumismo viene dichiarato nel momento in cui la finzione di un film diviene più rassicurante della realtà stessa.
Allora. Conclusione. Life On Mars? è la canzone più bella mai scritta da Bowie. Forse è vero. Ma forse invece è solo una tappa del suo volubile percorso dalle molteplici facce (o maschere). Non dimentichiamoci che l'anno successivo David Bowie avrebbe pubblicato un altro capolavoro. La straordinaria rock-opera sulla seguente trasformazione dell'artista in Ziggy Stardust di cui Life On Mars? ne è chiaramente l'anticipazione.
Kooks, è dedicata al figlio Zowie, è un motivetto dall'ascolto semplice caratterizzato da chiare e genuine apparizioni di tromba opera di Trevor Bolder. E' una ballata acustica anche la successiva Quicksland, ma le atmosfere sono più cupe e il testo si connota di riferimenti oscuri. Straordinarie ancora le orchestrazioni di Mick Ronson, così come lo è il lavoro al pianoforte di Rick Wakeman, futuro tastierista degli Yes. Ancora Wakeman accompagna la voce sgraziata di Bowie in Fill Your Heart (cover di una canzone composta da Biff Rose). Brano dal ritmo altalenante così come i segmenti melodici tracciati dai fiati e dagli arrangiamenti.
Segue la trilogia dedicata ai personaggi la cui influenza è stata determinante in questa prima fase della carriera Boweiana. Si comincia con Andy Warhol, e l'inizio è delirante. Sulle ultime note del brano precedente il cantante comincia a pronunciare in stato quasi maniacale il nome dell'artista ideatore della pop-art. Poi comincia questa ironica e profanatoria canzone in veste amatoriale, benché l'intento sia manifestamente affezionato. Song For Bob Dylan è ancora più intimista. Bowie assimila il folk-rock dylaniano e lo stravolge per argomentare l'idea che Dylan stia perdendo il suo ruolo-guida che lo aveva caratterizzato nel decennio precedente. Queen Bitch è dedicata a Lou Reed, ma è più che semplice tributo. Bowie canta come Reed. Reinterpreta la lezione degli ex-Velvet Underground, ma con una differenza: il suo stile è già glam. E' significativa in proposito l'imminente inversione dei ruoli, quando anche Lou Reed abbraccerà il genere glam, e si sentirà in debito con David Bowie. La chiusura del disco è affidata a The Bewlay Brothers, un brano pseudo-psichedelico a tratti folk e dall'atmosfera claustrofobia. Non può che venire in mente Syd Barrett, altro grande ispiratore del disco, anche in virtù del fatto che il testo è incentrato sul fratellastro del cantante, Terry, soggetto a cure psichiatriche.
Certo, quando si parla di un disco di David Bowie, limitarsi a descrivere i brani può essere davvero riduttivo. L'influenza dell'artista si è riversata negli ambienti sotterranei della Swinging London, per poi rivelarsi nei grandiosi album spiccatamente Glam dei Roxy Music o di Lou reed. Ma questo album, va ribadito ancora una volta, è solo una delle tappe dell'evoluzione discostante di un artista che ha sempre voluto sorprendere con le sue trasformazioni. Ricordiamolo, non sarebbe passato nemmeno un anno e David Bowie avrebbe indossato la maschera dell'alieno caduto sulla Terra. Un pianeta così pregno di immagini e suoni. Così caotico nei suoi significati.
E dalle così estreme e eccessive conseguenze: dall'alienazione schizofrenica di Syd Barrett al consumismo conformista di Walt Disney.
Elenco tracce testi e video
01 Changes (03:37)
I still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets and
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I've never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I'm much too fast to take that test
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don't want to be a richer man
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence and
So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're going through
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don't tell them to grow up and out of it
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Where's your shame
You've left us up to our necks in it
Time may change me
But you can't trace time
Strange fascination, fascinate me
Changes are taking the pace I'm going through
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Pretty soon now you're gonna get older
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can't trace time
02 Oh! You Pretty Things (03:12)
Wake up you sleepy head
Put on some clothes, shake up your bed
Put another log on the fire for me
I've made some breakfast and coffee
I look out my window what do I see
A crack in the sky and a hand reaching down to me
All the nightmares came today
And it looks as though they're here to stay
What are we coming to
No room for me, no fun for you
I think about a world to come
Where the books were found by the Golden ones
Written in pain, written in awe
By a puzzled man who questioned
What we work here for
All the strangers came today
And it looks as though they're here to stay
Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things)
Don't you know you're driving your
Mamas and Papas insane
Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things)
Don't you know you're driving your
Mamas and Papas insane
Let me make it plain
You gotta make way for the Homo Superior
Look out at your children
See their faces in golden rays
Don't kid yourself they belong to you
They're the start of a coming race
The earth is a bitch
We've finished our news
Homo Sapiens have outgrown their use
All the strangers came today
And it looks as though they're here to stay
Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things)
Don't you know you're driving your
Mamas and Papas insane
Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things)
Don't you know you're driving your
Mamas and Papas insane
Let me make it plain
You gotta make way for the Homo Superior
03 Eight Line Poem (02:56)
The tactful cactus by your window
Surveys the prairie of your room
The mobile spins to its collision
Clara puts her head between her paws
They've opened shops down West side
Will all the cacti find a home
But the key to the city
Is in the sun that pins the branches to the sky
05 Kooks (02:54)
CHORUS (x2)
Will you stay in our lovers' story
If you stay you won't be sorry
'Cause we believe in you
Soon you'll grow so take a chance
With a couple of kooks
Hung up on romancing
We bought a lot of things to keep you warm and dry
And a funny old crib on which the paint won't dry
I bought you a pair of shoes
A trumpet you can blow
And a book of rules
On what to say to people when they pick on you
'Cause if you stay with us you're gonna be pretty kooky too
CHORUS
And if you ever have to go to school
Remember how they messed up this old fool
Don't pick fights with the bullies or the cads
'Cause I'm not much cop at punching
Other people's dads
And if the homework brings you down
Then we'll throw it on the fire
And take the car downtown
CHORUS (repeat and fade)
06 Quicksand (05:09)
I'm closer to the Golden Dawn
Immersed in Crowley's uniform
Of imagery
I'm living in a silent film
Portraying Himmler's sacred realm
Of dream reality
I'm frightened by the total goal
Drawing to the ragged hole
And I ain't got the power anymore
No I ain't got the power anymore
I'm the twisted name on Garbo's eyes
Living proof of Churchill's lies
I'm destiny
I'm torn between the light and dark
Where others see their targets
Divine symmetry
Should I kiss the viper's fang
Or herald loud the death of Man
I'm sinking in the quicksand of my thought
And I ain't got the power anymore
Don't believe in yourself
Don't deceive with belief
Knowledge comes with death's release
I'm not a prophet or a stone age man
Just a mortal with the potential of a superman
I'm living on
I'm tethered to the logic of Homo Sapien
Can't take my eyes from the great salvation
Of bullshit faith
If I don't explain what you ought to know
You can tell me all about it
On the next Bardo
I'm sinking in the quicksand of my thought
And I ain't got the power anymore
Don't believe in yourself
Don't deceive with belief
Knowledge comes with death's release
08 Andy Warhol (03:57)
Like to take a cement fix
Be a standing cinema
Dress my friends up just for show
See them as they really are
Put a peephole in my brain
Two new Pence to have a go
Like to be a gallery
Put you all inside my show
Andy Warhol looks a scream
Hang him on my wall
Andy Warhol, Silver Screen
Can't tell them apart at all
Andy walking, Andy tired
Andy take a little snooze
Tie him up when he's fast asleep
Send him on a pleasant cruise
When he wakes up on the sea
Sure to think of me and you
He'll think about paint and he'll think about glue
What a jolly boring thing to do
Andy Warhol looks a scream
Hang him on my wall
Andy Warhol, Silver Screen
Can't tell them apart at all
10 Queen Bitch (03:19)
I'm up on the eleventh floor
And I'm watching the cruisers below
He's down on the street
And he's trying hard to pull sister Flo
Oh, my heart's in the basement
My weekend's at an all time low
'Cause she's hoping to score
So I can't see her letting him go
Walk out of her heart
Walk out of her mind
She's so swishy in her satin and tat
In her frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat
Oh God, I could do better than that
She's an old-time ambassador
Of sweet talking, night walking games
And she's known in the darkest clubs
For pushing ahead of the dames
If she says she can do it
Then she can do it, she don't make false claims
But she's a Queen, and such are queens
That your laughter is sucked in their brains
Now she's leading him on
And she'll lay him right down
Yes she's leading him on
And she'll lay him right down
But it could have been me
Yes, it could have been me
Why didn't I say, why didn't I say, no, no, no
She's so swishy in her satin and tat
In her frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat
Oh God, I could do better than that
So I lay down a while
And I gaze at my hotel wall
Oh the cot is so cold
It don't feel like no bed at all
Yeah I lay down a while
And I look at my hotel wall
But he's down on the street
So I throw both his bags down the hall
And I'm phoning a cab
'Cause my stomach feels small
There's a taste in my mouth
And it's no taste at all
It could have been me
Oh yeah, it could have been me
Why didn't I say, Why didn't I say, no, no, no
She's so swishy in her satin and tat
In her frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat
Oh God, I could do better than that
11 The Bewlay Brothers (05:27)
And so the story goes they wore the clothes
They said the things to make it seem improbable
The whale of a lie like they hope it was
And the Goodmen Tomorrow
Had their feet in the wallow
And their heads of Brawn were nicer shorn
And how they bought their positions with saccharin and trust
And the world was asleep to our latent fuss
Sighing, the swirl through the streets
Like the crust of the sun
The Bewlay Brothers
In our Wings that Bark
Flashing teeth of Brass
Standing tall in the dark
Oh, And we were Gone
Hanging out with your Dwarf Men
We were so turned on
By your lack of conclusions
I was Stone and he was Wax
So he could scream, and still relax, unbelievable
And we frightened the small children away
And our talk was old and dust would flow
Thru our veins and Lo! it was midnight
Back at the kitchen door
Like the grim face on the Cathedral floor
And the solid book we wrote
Cannot be found today
And it was Stalking time for the Moonboys
The Bewlay Brothers
With our backs on the arch
In the Devil-may-be-here
But He can't sing about that
Oh, And we were Gone
Real Cool Traders
We were so Turned On
You thought we were Fakers
Now the dress is hung, the ticket pawned
The Factor Max that proved the fact
Is melted down
And woven on the edging of my pillow
Now my Brother lays upon the Rocks
He could be dead, He could be not
He could be You
He's Chameleon, Comedian, Corinthian and Caricature
Shooting-up Pie-in-the-Sky
The Bewlay Brothers
In the feeble and the Bad
Bewlay Brothers
In the Blessed and Cold
In the Crutch-hungry Dark
Was where we flayed our Mark
Oh, and we were Gone
Kings of Oblivion
We were so Turned On
In the Mind-Warp Pavilion
Lay me place and bake me Pie
I'm starving for me Gravy
Leave my shoes, and door unlocked
I might just slip away, hey
Just for the Day, Hey!
Hey, Please come Away, Hey!
Just for the Day, Hey!
Please come Away, Hey!
Please come Away, Hey!
Just for the Day
Please come Away
Please come Away
Please come Away
Please come Away
Away
(Away)
Away
Hey
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Altre recensioni
Di BrunoDP
Hunky Dory: quando la leggerezza raggiunge il metafisico.
Capolavoro assoluto. Il summenzionato sapore romantico-decadente che attraversa l'intera opera vede il massimo sfogo nella successiva 'Koocks'.
Di luludia
Hunky dory è un pezzo unico, una cosa che assomiglia solo a se stessa.
"Un peculiare baritono alto che scivola impercettibilmente dentro e fuori il falsetto".
