Tag Archives: David Bowie
Here’s how Geoff MacCormack puts it:
“Say you’re my friend,” he says, “and I invite you to a party, and the party goes on for three years, and you change costumes, and maybe we go home and say hello to mother — which is important, obviously — and we check with our families and, and we do all that, and we come back to the party and we carry on the theme, or the next theme, or the other theme, or whatever the theme is going to be and that’s kind of what it’s like.”
The excitement surrounding the remastered Beatles catalog can’t have hurt this auction item: One of the most-coveted Fab Four vinyl rarities — an early stereo copy of their first LP in near-mint condition, with the black-and-gold Parlophone label. The stereo version is significantly rarer than the mono since it came out at a time when mono was still the format of choice for British record buyers.
David Bowie shared its title with his now-forgotten first album, and that might have been a mistake. So might a sleeve that barely hinted at the topicality, or even the success, of its best-known song, and instead concentrated on the vaguely pop-art inflected folkie hippy that was Bowie’s latest public persona. There was an astronaut amid the tangle of hand-drawn doodling sprayed across the rear sleeve, but there was also a Pierrot, a weeping woman, a joint and a tangle of other imagery.