Mr. Bowie and his entire plastic soul extravaganza...

It's been a good long while since I posted something involving Mr. David Jones. And last time I did, I previewed doing something with Young Americans, Bowie's soul-inspired interlude in between roughly the Ziggy Stardust and Thin White Duke/Berlin-Trilogy eras. Which is already quite descriptive of Young Americans. Unlike all the projects surrounding it, Young Americans didn't have a big fancy concept or conceipt behind it, it was quote unquote just an album of songs. Which is fine, obviously, though for some Young Americans could never quite shake its reputation as a transitional album, made by an uncertain artist. Which, technically is probably true, but that doesn't lessen the modest pleasures of Young Americans. Not to mention it did what was its unofficial goal: establish Bowie completely in the American market. Before this album Bowie had essentially been a curio, that weird Brit who could place a song or two in the charts and of course had a devoted fan following during the Ziggy years, but hadn't really made much inroads on being a household name or being a constant charts presence. Young Americans changed that.   

Modest pleasures you heard me say? Yes, I wouldn't rate Young Americans as a top Bowie album, and it's not among my favorites, though last time we talked about Bowie one user had it as theirs. But it is a pretty nice diversion - the fact that there isn't some sort of fancy sci-fi or arthouse concept attached might actually work in its favor for some. It's an album purely for pleasure - fitting, since Bowie is trying his hands on Philly Soul, albeit at a typically distanced fashion, thus the term 'plastic soul' he coined himself, pointing out the ersatz nature of the exercise and the fact that a "white limey" (in his own word) was singing soul music, or, rather, some kind of mutated, Bowie-fied version of soul music. 

What changed the trajectory of Young Americans quite a bit was the belated and unexpected presence of one John Winston Lennon. Writing and recording of most tracks had been completed in Philly's fame Sigma studios during two hectic (and cocaine-filled) weeks in August 1974, then in late December Bowie and his crew wrapped up "Win" and "Fascination" at New Tork's Record Plant and the album seemed to be set, with Bowie and Toni Visconti starting to mix the recordings. Lennon was also at the Record Plant, putting the finishing touches on his all-covers album "Rock'n'Roll". The two Brits, who had begun socializing  a year before, went into a one-day recording session at Electric Ladyland to ostensibly record a cover of "Footstompin'", an old doo-wop number that Bowie had already played in concert and where guitar slinger Carlos alomar had developed the beginning of the riff that would turn into "Fame". Rightfully thinking that the riff was too good for a mere cover, Bowie and Lennon wrote and recorded "Fame" on the spot and then - possibly slightly overegging the pudding - Bowie's take on "Across The Universe". 

Bowie called Visconti, who had returned to London the morning of the recording session, somewhat apologetic - both for Visconti missing out on working with Lennon and for the fact that the inclusion of the two new cuts would mean that other completed songs for the album would have to be dropped. This is entirely in the eye of the beholder, but I think he dropped the ball on this one and the wrong tracks from the album. "Who Can I Be Now" and "It's Gonna Be Me" were both taken off the album at the last minute to make space for the Lennon collaborations. Visconti sounded non-plussed about the decision: "Beautiful songs and it made me sick when he decided not to use them". 

On one hand you can argue that the driving "Fame" and his take on "Across The Universe" bring some much needed muscle to an album that otherwise floats by on sometimes interchangeable midtempo grooves. On the other, the two dropped songs were clear highlights of the sessions and I would've rather dropped "Win" and "Right" (or maybe "Can You Hear Me"). Another solution to this conundrum didn't really exist for Bowie in 1975, but it does today here on One Buck Records: Just make the damn thing a double album! Which is of course what Young Americans - The Complete Edition is, a look at how Young Americans would sound like if, instead of replacing those two songs he adds the Lennon-tracks and then rescues his soul-reworking of "John, I'm Only Dancing". That song was clearly dear to him, turning up as the opening track on early mock-ups of the album. When the album was initially dubbed The Gouster in September, it was the opening track, and even in December - when Bowie wanted to call the album Fascination after the then just finished track - it was still in that spot. But it got mercilessly axed, like those two great soul ballads. Throw in "After Today", a disco-soul excursion with Bowie in falsetto mode, and you've got yourself a solid double vinyl album. 

Twelve tracks, spread across four sides at three tracks each, with every side coming in at a little more than 15 minutes - this could have totally worked, even if at aroung 62 minutes it would have been on the shorter side of double albums. Well, it'll be for you to judge what you make of Bowie's plastic soul extravaganza - now longer and better than ever. 

But that isn't all, dear non-paying customer! Young Americans - The Complete Edition is part of a two-tier project. Be back in two days' time for Shilling The Rubes, an alternate album version of Young Americans featuring a different set of outtakes and different versions of the album's songs...