David Bowie – The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars Review

Some may forget that, at the time of releasing The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, David Bowie had still not broken through. Not really. Hunky Dory, a fine piece of work and among the best albums Bowie ever released, did not cause as seismic a shift as it now does. It’s on reflection that listeners can find just how inspiring and influential it is. At the time of its release, unremarkable record sales greeted Bowie. It sold poorly but spurned Bowie on to even better albums. His talent was clear, an ear for the future of rock and roll certainly helped. Hunky Dory is an obvious example of how success and importance do not equate. The charts are not to be trusted, unless it backs up your argument in the pub, at which point the Top 40 is gospel. Listeners of the time got it right when they went out to buy The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, truly one of the many great works in Bowie’s discography. Perhaps, even, the best he ever released. 

Not as outwardly ambitious or fluid in its tackling of genre or topic, the album is a far more centred approach to the glam rock style Bowie would define and resign from over a blistering yet brief three-year period. Some of Bowie’s career-best works can be found here. Each track featured can lay claim to a spot in his top ten greatest songs. Five Years, Moonage Daydream, Starman, Suffragette City, Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide, the title track, too, it’s all colossal work from Bowie, whose self-belief is clear. Artists before and long after Bowie know better than to listen to critical praise or denouncements, know better than to care for the placement of a record in the charts. But when it does hit a nerve, when it strikes with the right balance of honesty and achievement, it’s hard not to take note. Bowie knew he had a creative hot streak on his hands after the release of Hunky Dory, public be damned. Evocative, ruthless, and ultimately, the warmth of The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust is what lasts. 

Five Years is a staggering opener, a bold topic and exemplary in its showcase of what Bowie can do as a lyricist. The likes of Soul Love are just plain cool, too, though they struggle to match the masterclasses heard before it (Five Years) and after (Moonage Daydream and Starman). It feels like a loose end, even though it is a remarkable track all the same. Sci-fi themes on both Moonage Daydream and Starman may feel like adaptations of an at-the-time unpopular genre, but it’s the connection to the real world that works. Ray guns to the head, freak outs, they’re all a part of life even now though Bowie swaps out the weaponry and psychological menace for abstract ideas. Lady Stardust features that slowed tempo, the piano charms which Life on Mars had trialled and succeeded with. On it goes with a formidable run of B-side thrills, too. Ziggy Stardust, Suffragette City, and Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide are among the all-time great songs.  

One of the greatest albums of all time, no doubt about it. The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust shows the temerity of Bowie not just as a musician, but as a person who believed in his work. Anyone can learn the guitar, push themselves to learn it well, but few will have an ear for what could advance the abilities of everyone around them. Bowie is in perfect form here, pushing the very limits of rock and roll, of music as a current for political aims and cultural partnership. In many ways, he still is pushing, and it’s because of the depths heard on The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust. Bowie holds firm with hopes of succeeding, and he was right to do so. Few have innovated as well, and as often, as Bowie does on The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, let alone across his career. It’s as incendiary an album as it was on first release, its influence still remarkable. Few albums can claim to have that.