I just watched a very informative and interesting documentary on David Bowie’s peak years of popularity. It focused heavily on the creative process and had many insights from the musicians and producers who worked on Bowie’s most iconic records. One thing that irritated me, however, is that they managed to discuss his album Let’s Dance without once mentioning that Stevie Ray Vaughn played the lead guitar on the record.
What’s so interesting about Let’s Dance is that in retrospect it feels like such a commercial effort. In reality, though, it was thoroughly innovative. Nothing had sounded like it before. It’s true that Bowie self-consciously wanted ‘hits’ and hired Chic‘s Nile Rodgers to produce it specifically for that purpose, and that was understandable considering the oceans of money he had just received from EMI. He wanted to justify their investment, and he couldn’t do that by putting out something totally avant-garde. But I don’t think anyone could have predicted that a song like China Girl would be a bigger pop hit than songs like Fame or Fashion. Of course, the latter two songs had John Lennon and Robert Fripp ripping some of their most unlikeliest guitar riffs.
It was always Bowie’s genius to take brilliant musicians and put them in a place to do something completely outside their comfort zone. Certainly, Steve Ray Vaughn never did anything like the work he did on Let’s Dance either before or after that recording. Luther Vandross never did anything like the work he did on Young Americans either before or after. For that matter, Lou Reed was never better than when he was being produced by Bowie.
What’s sad and somewhat frustrating is that Let’s Dance was so commercially successful that it kind of ruined Bowie’s self-confidence. He was so self-identified with the kind of counterculture represented by Andy Warhol and the Velvet Underground that he felt like a phony when he became a true megastar. He tried to satisfy all these new mainstream fans, but he didn’t understand what they wanted.
Still, it’s hard to even understand the breadth of Bowie’s genius. He’s probably the most underrated lyricist of all time, mainly because he deliberately talked over the heads of his audience and mocked their intelligence. But his lyrics are such a small part of his overall creative repertoire. From his costumes to his personas to his brilliance in finding and directing talent, he has no peer in the history of rock and roll.