David Bowie: Conversation Piece

This is the first of (to date) four companion box sets of rarities, demos, 'b' sides and live radio show sessions intended to accompany, respectively, Space Oddity (aka David Bowie), The Man Who Sold The World, Hunky Dory and Ziggy Stardust.

As it was the first and seemed to catch many by surprise, coming as it did between the series of complete album era boxsets (of which there are now five), it was much beloved of Bowie reviewers. They seemed to be falling over each other to write well over 1000 words (often way over) of gushing praise for this sprawling collection of mainly outtakes and home demos that pre-dated the 1969 release of Space Oddity. Were they really going to listen to lots of lo-fi, scratchy, acoustic home demos? Maybe they were. From their apparent delighted satisfaction in listening to them it would seem to be the case. Would I be doing the same? Certainly not. I am sorry to say that twenty-four "home demos" played by Bowie solo with an acoustic guitar (including four consecutive versions of Space Oddity), followed by ten more with Bowie accompanied by John "Hutch" Hutchinson - also on vocals and guitar - are just not particularly my cup of tea, to a greater or lesser extent. I am not a fan of demos in general, lo-fi, muffled ones even less so. Neither am I a person for whom listening to a song's development over several truncated outtakes holds any interest. I am happy with the finished version and maybe alternative mixes of it. Work in progress does not float my boat, I'm afraid. At least we don't get eleven takes, however, as I think we got with Bob Dylan's Like A Rolling Stone on his similar Cutting Edge box set. 

Disc 1 - Home Demos

Anyway, on these first two discs of this set there are a host of songs from 1968 that didn't make it onto the eventual Space Oddity album. A cursory listen to them finds none of them impressing me much. a lot of the are more in the twee mode of Bowie's 1967 material. There are a few, though, like London Bye Ta-Ta, In The Heat Of The Morning and Let Me Sleep Beside You that emerged later on played by Bowie's full band that are much more appealing. These versions can be found on the Deluxe Edition release of 1967's David Bowie album. Maybe some of these other demo songs would have benefitted from that full band treatment, but unfortunately they never got there. For all these reasons, the first two discs on offer just don't interest me too much. Repeated listens, however, find me warming to some of it, and Bowie's innate shyness is most disarming. He comes across as nervous and unsure of himself at times. A track like When I'm Five is a definite throwback to 1967 but it has a strange, innocently observant appeal in its memories of childhood. Goodbye 3d has potential too as does the bluesy Mother Grey and Ching-A-Ling is a serving of carefree, harmless fun.

Disc 2 (with John "Hutch" Hutchinson)

All that somewhat negative stuff said, however, I have to say that I have enjoyed listening to quite a lot of it - I have been a Bowie aficionado from 1972 after all - and the "Hutch" sessions are actually not too bad, sound-wise. They have a gentle appeal to them, as if Bowie and Hutch have turned into Simon And Garfunkel (such as on an Occasional Dream). They certainly provide an intriguing sonic document to this stage of Bowie's career, one where, of course, he had no idea that he was going to become David Bowie. Incidentally, I had a wry smile when Bowie launched into a Hey Jude-style "la-la-la - lalalalaaahh - Janine" on the song of that name. Also interesting are the winsome Lover To The Dawn and a cover of Lesley Duncan's beautiful Love Song, which Elton John would cover on his 1970 Tumbleweed Connection album.

So, there you go, I am re-assessing the whole thing positively - but that still doesn't escape the fact that I can't wait to play the actual album once more, longing for some top quality sound. 

Disc 3 - Various

Thankfully, the live BBC radio show material on offer here is more than acceptable, unlike some of the cuts on other sets in this series. The Decca alternative studio cuts are robustly good too, as is Conversation Piece - despite the wealth of material on offer here, the standout non-album track is this one (after which this box set is titled). It is a rejected song from the 1969 Space Oddity sessions and is a pleasant, melodic, wistful number with Bowie's voice sounding very much like it did on some of the plaintive 1966-68 recordings. It contains some beguiling lyrics - "I live above a grocer's store owned by an Austrian". "My essays lying scattered on the floor..." sings Bowie. Was he recalling some past student days? It is largely acoustically driven with a fetching rhythmic beat to it. The drums were apparently played by a session drummer whose identity has been long forgotten. It was not Space Oddity drummer John Cambridge, but a jazz musician whose identity remains unknown, which may help to account for the unusually rhythmic groove. It underwent a remix in 2019 (featured here on the full 2019 Space Oddity album) which has given it far more bass oomph and a general warmth of ambience that makes it a more attractive number. The song was also re-recorded for the discarded Toy sessions in 2000 and is much slower in pace, with none of the breezy joie de vivre of the original and a considerably more sonorous Bowie vocal.

Disc 4 Space Oddity 2009 Remaster

Where the set comes into its own, for me, is with the two masterings of the Space Oddity album available here - firstly the excellent 2009 release (which is superior to the later 2015 one) and the Tony Visconti remix of the album undertaken in 2019.

Here are my views on the original album's songs -

A well-known track that needs no introduction, Space Oddity capitalised on the fascination with the moon landing and achieved tremendous success. This song also marked the first significant recorded use of the stylophone, a playful instrument that contributed to the slightly electronic, morse-code-like sound in the background. It possesses a profound atmosphere, hauntingly depicting the solitary journey of poor old Major Tom floating endlessly in space. Interestingly, after this massive hit, Bowie seemingly vanished for almost three years before reemerging in 1972 as a new artistic entity in the eyes of many fans. While the album can be considered uneven, there are other hidden gems worthy of recognition.

Moving on to Unwashed And Somewhat Slightly Dazed, the track exhibits impressive psychedelic-infused rock elements. With each listening experience, my appreciation for this piece grows. Contrary to popular belief, the searing guitar solo was not played by Mick Ronson but by Tim Renwick. The bluesy harmonica throughout the track was skilfully executed by Benny Marshall. The song begins gently, with Bowie's ethereal vocals singing the line "spy, spy pretty girl" over an acoustic guitar backdrop, creating the impression of another dreamy composition reminiscent of his earlier works from 1967-68. However, within minutes, a thunderous and bluesy rock rhythm takes over, making it Bowie's heaviest song up until that point. The lyrics, albeit peculiar  - "I'm a phallus in pigtails" - and the mention of a credit card, which was unusual for 1969, further contribute to its uniqueness. Undoubtedly, it is an excellent track.

Next up is Letter To Hermione, a genuine love song from Bowie to one of his early loves, Hermione Farthingale, with whom he eventually ended the relationship due to his self-admitted promiscuity. It is a gentle and tender acoustic number showcasing Bowie's vulnerability. Lines like "I'm not quite sure what you're supposed to say" reflect the singer's emotional confusion. While slightly jealous of Hermione's new lover, Bowie settles for the compromise of expressing his love through a heartfelt written message. The song features delicate acoustic guitar melodies that beautifully complement Bowie's soft, airy vocals. Throughout his entire career, Bowie rarely displayed such sincerity and disarming vulnerability, making it a truly exceptional and captivating piece.

The lengthy and enigmatic narrative of Cygnet Committee marks a symbolic farewell to the era of "hippiedom." This epic track resounds with renewed vigour on remastered versions like the 2009 release (although the 2015 remaster struggles with the introductory bass line). With its acoustic foundation and aggressive lyrical mystique, it maintains an incessant verbal assault while providing a solid and resounding musical backing, eschewing the airy and "hippy" aesthetic. Undoubtedly, it stands as an early Bowie classic, often overlooked but profoundly haunting, mysterious, and puzzling, comparable to the likes of The Bewlay Brothers and Quicksand. Equally enchanting are the winsome and folky melodies of Janine. The crystal-clear and razor-sharp acoustic guitar adds charm to the composition. The line referring to a "Polish wanderer" leaves me curious as to its intended meaning. This song serves as a bridge between two distinct eras, recalling elements of Bowie's work from 1967-68.

An Occasional Dream also echoes the late-sixties acoustic folk sound present on several tracks of the album. Similar to Letter To Hermione, it offers a tranquil and introspective acoustic experience. Bowie sings of a Swedish room adorned with hessian and wood, evoking a sense of peacefulness. Tony Visconti contributes a delightful flute solo, further enhancing the song's tranquility. Its gentle and melodic nature has always resonated with me.

The Wild-Eyed Boy From Freecloud tells a strange folk tale of an imprisoned young man with wild eyes, gradually wasting away in jail. This melodramatic and intense track possesses an operatic grandeur, featuring an array of instruments such as brass, cello, flute, and harp. While producer and musician Tony Visconti considers it one of his finest achievements, I have found it slightly excessive, although I admire the narrative and storytelling elements within.

Even more peculiar is God Knows I'm Good, a folky and acoustic song revolving around the story of a confused elderly woman who steals a tin of stewing steak from a grocery store. This type of song is unexpected from David Bowie, as he did not venture into "real-life" or "kitchen sink drama" themes very often. Consequently, it feels somewhat incongruous within both Bowie's post-1968 repertoire and the overall album.

Finally, we have the magnificently trippy Memory Of A Free Festival, featuring lines like "Peter talked with tall Venusians." This song takes listeners on a cosmic journey, recounting a festival that Bowie helped organise or perhaps fantasised about organising - though it apparently involved plenty of arguments about trivial matters. Idealised memories blend with sci-fi-inspired fantasy, creating an atmosphere that may have exceeded the actual festival's ambiance. The repeated chant of "the sun machine is coming down and we're gonna have a party" exudes a corny "hippy" vibe that I cannot help but adore. Perhaps Bowie, with a touch of irony and cynicism, was subtly dismissing the fading hippy counter culture, envisioning its replacement by new movements. While this song nostalgically reflects upon potentially illusory memories, it also serves as a glimpse into the future. As clichéd as it may sound, Bowie consistently appeared one step ahead. 

Disc 5 - 2019 Tony Visconti Remix

Like the latest Bob Ludwig remaster on The Rolling Stones’ Let It Bleed, this new Tony Visconti “remix’ of David Bowie’s 1969 album leaves one listening over and over, desperately trying to find some obvious differences from the previous release of the same album. The thing is, the new remasters/remixes are trying to put a new coat of paint on something that is already more than shiny enough. The previous Let It Bleed was more than acceptable and the 2009 one of Space Oddity is too (although the later 2015 revealed several sonic imperfections, surprisingly)

I am a big fan of Visconti, however, and I really loved his work on Low, “Heroes" and Lodger, and also on several T. Rex albums. Here his enhancements are not quite so clear. They are there, though. Like on Let It Bleed, it is the case that the bass is a bit more warm, fuller and “rubbery” - the riffs a little bit chunkier and the acoustic guitars sharper. There is just something of an overall more punch and “oomph”. Maybe. Actually, yes there is but it is not incredibly discernible, but to the familiar ear it will be apparent, I am sure. It is to me, with each listen.

Space Oddity has a few vocal echoes on the initial "lift off" bit and some new percussion sounds floating around (like a tin can) here and there (far above the world). Some spacey sound effects appear as well. The track does not "fade in" as the original one did and develops a big bassy thump on the chorus parts. Some more echoes come in one the "can you hear me Major Tom" part too. Oddly, though, the new remix neither fades in nor fades out, yet both this and the 20215 remaster last 5:20.

I feel that Visconti has possibly tried to make the album sound more of a closer relative to the comparatively heavy The Man Who Sold The World, which he produced, than it was before, particularly on the two lengthier, heavier, proggier tracks of Unwashed And Somewhat Slightly Dazed and the monumental Cygnet Committee. Listen to the power of the guitar/drums on the former and the lovely bass on the latter. Both songs now sound wonderfully massive. Cygnet Committee is just such a superb track anyway. The hiss behind the introductory bass has gone on the new remix as well.

The “Don’t Sit Down” interlude is not on the new remix, by the way. The bass on Letter To Hermione is rumblingly beautiful and the new mix is not quite so sonorously echoey. The acoustic guitars on the winsome Janine and the underrated An Occasional Dream are crystal clear and Janine has a gorgeous bass now. Check out that orchestration on The Wild Eyed Boy From Freecloud too.

The beguiling, appealing Conversation Piece has now been added to the album, between The Wild Eyed Boy From Freecloud and God Knows I’m Good, making the album an even better one. Its 2019 remix, once again, has more bass warmth to it. Memory Of A Free Festival had an “alternative mix” that appeared on the 40th Anniversary release in 2009. This remixed version is not that one and does not differ as radically from the original.

This album is no longer a quirky “early” album, it is finally being recognised for the solid piece of varied, burgeoning creativity that it was. This contemporary tinkering with it has been positive as far as I am concerned. I have known this album since 1972 and, nearly fifty years later I find I am still discovering new charms hidden within it. This remix allows me to do that even more. I’m happy with that. This collection allows me to revisit the album in its various guises in even greater detail. 

Check out my original review of Space Oddity