FEATURE:
Can You Hear Me
David Bowie’s Young Americans at Fifty
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I am looking ahead…
IN THIS PHOTO: David Bowie in 1975/PHOTO CREDIT: Photothèque Lecoeuvre
to 7th March and the fiftieth anniversary of David Bowie’s ninth studio album, Young Americans. This was a departure from the more Glam Rock-inspired albums that came before. Perhaps David Bowie does not hold Young Americans in the same regard as other albums. Produced by David Bowie, Harry Maslin and Tony Visconti, I am looking ahead to a big anniversary of an amazing David Bowie album. Perhaps an album that is more divisive than others, it would explain why there is less written about it than classics like Hunky Dory, Station to Station, “Heroes”, or The Rise and Fall if Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. It was a period of transition for David Bowie. 1974’s Diamond Dogs is another album that split critics. Bowie followed Young Americans with a golden run of albums that started with 1976’s Station to Station, then continued with Low (1977), “Heroes” (1977), then led to Lodger (1979) and Scary Monsters and Super Creeps (1980). Because the underrated Young Americans is fifty on 7th March, I think it is important to acknowledge Young Americans. I will start out with a feature from Far Out Magazine that was published in 2022. They revisited a divisive album that has gained more acclaim and interest after its release. It still does not find fans in all quarters:
“David Bowie’s 1975 album Young Americans is perhaps one of the least Bowieesque albums he ever made. There’s none of the glitter, none of the theatrics, and little in the way of glam-era guitar pyrotechnics. Put it next to his previous album, 1974’s Diamond Dogs, and you’d be forgiven for thinking that Bowie was abducted during his American tour and replaced with an imposter – Avril Lavigne style.
Of course, his fans had come to expect these swift transformations; they were an essential part of the Bowie experience. But this shift felt slightly different, largely because it was the first time Bowie had decided to strip away a layer of artifice rather than paint on a new one. In this way, Young Americans was the first album in which Bowie was being himself – or at least attempting to.
Young Americans was written and recorded during one of the most fruitful and troubled periods of Bowie’s life. Anyone who has watched the infamous Dick Cavett show interview in which Bowie is clearly blitzed out of his mind on cocaine knows that the mid-’70s marked the beginning of the drug years. As he told Rolling Stone in 1993, “I started on the drugs at the end of 1973 and then with force in 1974. As soon as I got to America, pow! It was so freely available in those days. Coke was everywhere. … Because I have a very addictive personality, I was a sucker for it.”
However, that same American tour would also introduce him to the world of soul. At a time when he was desperate to jump off the glam bandwagon before it was too late, American dance music offered a way out. Bowie’s desire to reset saw him slowly replace his entire band. As he worked his way across America, the original musicians fell away one by one until he was left with a brand new line-up, many of whom had ties to funk, R&B, and soul. After getting in touch with Tony Visconti, Bowie set about recording Young Americans with the help of Isley Brothers bassist Willie Weeks, Sly and the Family Stone drummer Andy Newmark, Pianist Mike Garson and saxophonist David Sanborn; and vocalists Ava Cherry, Robin Clark, and Luther Vandross.
Vandross, Cherry and Clark would turn out to be one of the driving forces on the album, frequently taking the lead vocal role and allowing Bowie to slip into the background for the very first time. Indeed, it was Vandross who came up with the chorus for ‘Young Americans’. As the singer recalled in 1987, he approached Clark during a session and said: “What if there was a phrase that went, ‘Young American, young American, he was the young American – all right!’ Now, when ‘all right’ comes up, jump over me and go into harmony.” Bowie apparently overheard the conversation and ran with the idea.
This wasn’t an isolated incident. The production of Young Americans is littered with examples of Bowie collaborating with his session band in such a way that he ceased to be the auteur. This was the birth of Low and Let’s Dance-era Bowie, who thrived on what the musicians he was working with bought to the table.
And yet, for many fans at the time, Young Americans felt like a wrong turn. You can’t blame them either. The album was a complete overhaul of style, which alienated much of Bowie’s original UK fanbase while putting off new listeners with that near-parodical cover of The Beatles’ ‘Across The Universe.’ It’s possible to argue that if it wasn’t for the likes of ‘Fame,’, ‘Fascination’, and ‘Young Americans’ the album would be a complete washout. That being said, it’s impossible to imagine Bowie’s later albums without Young Americans.
The record marked a distinct shift not only in Bowie’s sonic world but in his whole approach to production. With its minimalist soul aesthetic, the album has aged remarkably well and still looks and sounds much cooler than anything on Diamond Dogs. So while Young Americans continues to divide Bowie fans, I don’t think I’d have it any other way”.
I want to include as much as I can about Young Americans. As I said, there is not as much written about it as there should be. A sense that this is a minor or patchy work from David Bowie. Between this Ziggy Stardust and Thin White Duke personas, many critics write off Young Americans as transitional. Inauthentic Soul. Bowie himself called it Plastic Soul. On Young Americans, Bowie was one of the first mainstream white artists to embrace Black musical styles. In the years after Young Americans was released, artists such as Elton John, Roxy Music, Talking Heads and ABC mixed Funk and Soul. Young Americans was referenced by artists such as George Clinton and James Brown. It influenced other Funk artists but also had an impact on early Hip-Hop artists of the early-1990s. Young Americans was voted Bowie's ninth best album in a 2013 readers' poll for Rolling Stone. Also in 2013, NME ranked the album at number 175 in its list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. I am moving on to a feature from Albumsim. They celebrated fort-five years of Young Americans:
“David Bowie made a career out of steadily changing his style of music and reinventing his onstage persona. 1974's Diamond Dogs was his transition out of his Ziggy Stardust phase and into what Bowie described as his "plastic soul" stage, which gave us the album Young Americans.
This period produced what is arguably one the most fruitful and creative periods in Bowie's career. It was also his most troubled. In a 1999 performance on the VH1 series Storytellers, Bowie stated, "1975 and 1976 and a bit of 1974...and the first few weeks of 1977, were singularly the darkest days of my life. It was so steeped in awfulness that recall is nigh on impossible, certainly painful." Bowie's growing cocaine addiction was a contributing factor to this dark period, yet he made an album that would become his best-selling album at the time.
Over many decades, numerous British musicians have enthusiastically demonstrated their love and affinity towards American R&B/Soul music and Bowie was no exception. For his new, soulful sound, Bowie wanted to hire some new musicians and he gave his assistant a wish list, which included MFSB, the house band for Sigma Sound Studios in Philadelphia. The strings and horn-laden music that was predominant in what was called the Philly Sound commanded the radio airwaves and the charts at this time. Groups like Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes, the Three Degrees, and the aforementioned MFSB had great success around this time and most of their music was recorded at Sigma Sound Studios.
Bowie couldn't manage to get MFSB because they were unavailable, so he used a variety of musicians including some members of his touring band and newcomers, Bassist Willie Weeks and veteran session drummer Andy Newmark (Sly & the Family Stone, Roxy Music). Guitarist Carlos Alomar took on the role of music director to help Bowie flesh out what he wanted Young Americans to sound like.
The initial recordings began in August of 1974 at Sigma Sound. Bowie brought in longtime collaborator Tony Visconti to produce and engineer the record because he didn't like the results coming from the studio’s house engineer, Carl Paruolo. He wanted to record the album with the full band playing as opposed to recording each part separately, so he needed someone at the boards that he was familiar with.
During one of the sessions, Alomar brought his wife, backup singer Robin Clark, and Luther Vandross to watch the band work on the title track. As the session went on, Vandross came up with an idea that would eventually become one of music's most recognized choruses. Vandross told SPIN Magazine in 1987 about a conversation he had with Clark during the session, recalling that he had suggested, "What if there was a phrase that went, 'Young American, young American, he was the young American – all right!’ Now, when ‘all right’ comes up, jump over me and go into harmony." Bowie overheard the conversation and thought it was a brilliant idea. He invited the pair to join the session. Bowie began to consult with Vandross about many of the songs, which led to him (Vandross) arranging all the vocals and singing backup with Clark and Ava Cherry, who was Bowie's girlfriend at the time. The entire song was recorded live with the band with the exception of David Sanborn's saxophone, which was added later.
Another important Vandross contribution to Young Americans was a song he was working on called "Funky Music.” While working on the arrangements for the album, Vandross was singing "Funky Music" and Bowie heard the song and asked if he could record it. Vandross replied "You’re David Bowie. I live at home with my mother, you can do what you like." Bowie made some revisions and re-titled the song "Fascination,” with Vandross getting a co-writing credit. The bulk of the songs were written at the studio with Bowie giving the musicians room to collaborate. When listening to Young Americans, you get a sense of chill. No pyrotechnics or gimmicks that might have been associated with Bowie's previous output.
Bowie had been known to be a tireless worker in the studio, but on Young Americans, he worked even harder than he had before. He wanted commercial success in the States and to make a record that honored a genre that he loved and respected.
Bowie regretted calling his album "plastic soul" and in an interview with Q Magazine in 1990, he stated, "Yes, I shouldn’t have been quite so hard on myself, because looking back, it was pretty good white, blue-eyed soul. At the time I still had an element of being the artist who just throws things out unemotionally. But it was quite definitely one of the best bands I ever had. Apart from Carlos Alomar there was David Sanborn on saxophone and Luther Vandross on backing vocals. It was a powerhouse of a band. And I was like most English who come over to America for the first time, totally blown away by the fact that the blacks in America had their own culture, and it was positive and they were proud of it. And it didn’t seem like black culture in Britain at that time. And to be right there in the middle of it was just intoxicating, to go into the same studios as all these great artists, Sigma Sound. Good period—as a musician it was a fun period.”
Bowie finished recording Young Americans in eleven days, recording at least one track a day. During the time at Sigma, a group of Bowie fans waited outside the studio, hoping to get at least a glimpse of him and on the final day of recording, he brought them in to listen. After listening to the album a second time, an impromptu dance party broke out. Confident that he had an almost completed album that only needed to be mixed, Bowie took his band back on the road to finish the Diamond Dogs tour, which was now dubbed the Soul Tour. At that point in time, the track list for the album did not include two songs that were on the final product.
Under the impression that Young Americans was done, Visconti returned to England to work on other projects. Towards the end of 1974, Bowie struck up a friendship with John Lennon, which resulted in them getting together at Electric Lady Studios in January 1975. In the studio, Alomar had been working on a riff and when Lennon heard it, he started to sing the word "aim" over it. Bowie changed the word to "Fame" and began writing lyrics based on a conversation he had with Lennon about the horrible things that come along with stardom: the entourages, dubious managers, and the shallowness of the rock & roll lifestyle, among other burdens. Bowie also recorded a cover of the Beatles’ "Across the Universe.” Much to his chagrin, Visconti was not present for this session. In his autobiography, Visconti reflected, "I have to go down on record as saying that I love ‘Fame’ and would’ve liked to be a part of the team that made it. Maybe this was my karma for refusing to record ‘Space Oddity’ (I jest)."
Bowie's Young Americans stands out in his prolific discography because nothing else in his catalog sounds like it. It was a much needed break from his previous records. It still holds up and is a great lead-in to Station to Station (1976). It's unquestionably one of Bowie's best”.
I am going to end with a Pitchfork review of Young Americans. Reviewing it shortly after David Bowie’s death in 2016, they wrote how “Young Americans represented David Bowie's dive into soul music, particularly Philly Soul. Containing the stunning funk single "Fame," the album felt like a vehicle for Bowie to address one of his favorite topics—pop stardom—from a new angle, at a moment when it seemed likely to destroy him”:
“In the summer of 1974, as he was traveling across America on his mammoth Diamond Dogs arena-rock tour, David Bowie got deeply into soul music. By July, he was spiking his live sets with covers of the Ohio Players' "Here Today and Gone Tomorrow" and Eddie Floyd's "Knock on Wood," but he was even more interested in what was happening in dance clubs—particularly the new disco coming out of Philadelphia International Records. Bowie booked a mid-tour recording session at Sigma Sound, the studio where Kenneth Gamble and Leon Huff were constructing the sound of Philadelphia. But he wasn't working with Gamble and Huff, or indeed any of the studio's house musicians: He had something else in mind.
The soul-inspired album that came out of the Sigma Sound recordings, Young Americans, was yet another new direction for an artist who staked his career on ceaselessly finding new directions. It was also the first time he’d made an album whose chief purpose was pleasure. There’s nothing like the apocalyptic visions of Ziggy Stardust and Diamond Dogs on Young Americans; it’s as smart as anything he’d recorded before it, but also relaxed and limber-hipped enough for his hardcore fans’ less alienated big sisters and little brothers to get into. And it was the first of his records to feature Carlos Alomar, the ingenious rhythm guitarist who would become his live band’s musical director for more than a decade.
Bowie had met Alomar at a session early in the year, when he'd produced the Scottish pop singer Lulu's covers of his own "The Man Who Sold the World" and "Watch That Man." He drafted Alomar in to play at the Sigma Sound sessions, and Alomar brought along a couple of singers: his wife, Robin Clark, and his best friend, the then-unknown Luther Vandross. Always quick to recognize talent, Bowie immediately got Vandross and Clark in on the recording.
At those sessions, Bowie recorded enough songs for an album (reportedly meant to be called either "The Gouster" or, more cynically, "Shilling the Rubes")—although it would've been very different from the Young Americans we know today. Its most radical gesture would have been "John, I'm Only Dancing (Again)," a rewritten and discofied version of a snarling, homoerotic glam-rock single from three years earlier. (Bowie didn't actually release "John, I'm Only Dancing (Again)" until 1979; it was a minor hit in England and ended up on his Changestwobowie compilation.)
"Young Americans" the song was a hybrid of contemporary soul (the Vandross-led backup singers were all over it), the hyper-emotive '50s singer Johnnie Ray, and—another recent obsession of Bowie's—the up-and-coming New Jersey songwriter Bruce Springsteen, whose song "It's Hard to Be a Saint in the City" Bowie covered at Sigma Sound. It was also very current: Bowie sang "Do you remember President Nixon?" in the middle of a song he'd started recording three days after Nixon's resignation.
After that initial burst of productivity, the Diamond Dogs tour resumed, now so deeply influenced by Philadelphia soul that it was nicknamed the "Philly Dogs" tour. Bowie ditched most of his elaborate stage design, and added an opening set by the "Mike Garson Band"—his own group, fronted by Vandross and Clark. (Their set included a terrific Vandross original, "Funky Music," as well as a reworked version of Bowie's hippie mantra "Memory of a Free Festival.") One of the new additions to Bowie's own set was a medley of the Flares' "Foot Stompin'" and the old jazz standard "I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate," powered by a funk riff Alomar had come up with.
When the group returned to the studio in November to try to get a little more uptempo oomph into the album, they unsuccessfully tried to record "Foot Stomping." They did, however, come up with two killer additions to Young Americans: Bowie's dreamy, spiraling slow one "Win," and his lyrical rewrite of Vandross's "Funky Music" as the haunting "Fascination."
Bowie had also befriended John Lennon around that time, and invited him along to play guitar on a cover of his Beatles-era song "Across the Universe" at a final session in January, 1975. (Also present then, for the first time on a Bowie record: drummer Dennis Davis, who would go on to be the hidden rhythmic genius of all of his records up through 1980's Scary Monsters.) "Across the Universe" is the album's one genuine embarrassment, Vegas-y and bathetic. But bringing Lennon in yielded an unexpected dividend: Alomar's "Foot Stompin'" riff, a bit of arrangement brainstorming from Lennon, and a sharp, bitter lyric from Bowie combined, very quickly, into the stunning funk track "Fame." (Young Americans ended up being curiously Lennon-heavy: there's even a slightly mangled line from "A Day in the Life" in the middle of "Young Americans.")
"Fame" was a knockout, the song that gave Bowie his first American #1 single, and the soul world that he so admired took it to heart. By November, 1975, it landed Bowie on "Soul Train." (He wasn't the first white solo performer to play the show, but he was close.) George Clinton, by his own admission, modified its groove into "Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof Off the Sucker)." And James Brown paid Bowie the ultimate backhanded compliment: The instrumental track of his 1976 single "Hot (I Need to Be Loved, Loved, Loved, Loved)" was a note-for-note duplicate of "Fame."
In the context of Bowie's flabbergasting '70s, Young Americans is distinctly a transitional record. It doesn't have the mad theatrical scope of Diamond Dogs or the formal audacity of Station to Station; at times, it comes off as an artist trying very hard to demonstrate how unpredictable he is. You couldn't mistake it for an actual Philly soul record, although like the LPs Bowie was devouring at the time, it often comes off as hits-plus-filler. Still, a good deal of the filler is lovely, and recording funk and disco in 1974 put him way ahead of the curve. While there had already been a handful of disco hits on the pop charts, no other established rock musician had yet tried to do anything similar, and Bowie pulled it off in a way that not only didn't seem crass but gave Luther Vandross his big break”.
I do hope that Young Americans gets more attention and love in future years. People noting its huge influence. Even if it was not what people were used to or expected from David Bowie, it was much more than him inauthentically trying out Funk and Soul. Also, the albums sports some of Bowie’s final material. Songs like Fame and Young Americans. Timeless songs Another reinvention and music evolution that Bowie pulled off with aplomb. On 7th March, it will be fifty years since Young Americans weas released. I think it is among Bowie’s best albums. It is a piece of his musical history that warrants…
MUCH more respect.