50 Favorite Classic Rock Albums, Part 3

50-48, 47-44

43. Synchronicity, The Police, 1983
If you, as a band, are on the brink of imploding, then you’d better go out with a masterpiece. And that’s exactly what The Police did with their 1983 release Synchronicity. Afterward, the band broke up (for a while) and Sting went on save the rain forest. But don’t let that fool you into thinking that Synchronicity is merely an example of lightweight 80s fluff pop. The lyrics display an interest in human realities—just think of the meaning of the title—and psychologies (listen to the incredibly Oedipal “Mother”), and the production brings The Police’s Caribbean-tinged punk to its full sonic potential and beyond. The album will always be remembered for the stalker-romance “Every Breath You Take,” which, in addition to being ripped off—uh, I mean, sampled by Puff Daddy for his tribute to Biggie Smalls, has one of the most iconic music videos of all time. Those black and white (or the rarely seen tricolor) images of Sting, Andy Summer, and Stewart Copeland are what come to mind when most people think of The Police. Other notable songs include, “King of Pain,” “Wrapped Around Your Finger,” “Murder by Numbers,” and “Synchronicity II.”

42. Exile on Main St., The Rolling Stones, 1972
Exile on Main St. is the the most quintessentially Rolling Stones of all Rolling Stones albums. Though—odd for a double album—only a handful of songs stand out strongly on their own, every single one is clearly identifiable as the Stones. Exile, perhaps, is the darling of music critics because it is precisely what we hear in our heads when we think of a typical Rolling Stones song. All the usual influences are present—rock ’n’ roll, rhythm and blues, delta blues, country, even a little gospel—yet here they are more integrated than on other albums. For example, “Sweet Virginia” transcends being the album’s country songs by virtue of its backing horns, unlike “Country Honk” or “Faraway Eyes” which remain truer to the genre. Thus, Exile on Main St., in the way it presents a unified sound throughout, just might be the most cohesive album the Rolling Stones have ever produced. Plus it’s an incredibly well-sequenced album. Among side openers are “Sweet Virginia,” “All Down the Line,” and the Richards-sung “Happy.” “Tumbling Dice,” “Let It Loose,” and “Loving Cup” all finish sides. The sides start strong and end strong. Exile on Main St.’s big surprise, though, is Side 4’s “Shine a Light,” which, up there with Dylan’s “Forever Young,” is one of rock’s great benedictions. It really sounds like it should be the album’s conclusions, but instead we get “Soul Survivor” as an encore.

41. Imagine, John Lennon, 1971
We like to remember John Lennon in his solo years as a stalwart activist for peace. While his political involvement is certainly nothing to be forgotten, I think sometimes we forget what an acerbic wit he had in our efforts to beatify him. In 1971 when Imagine was released, he was in the middle of the famous Lennon-McCartney feud, in which the former songwriting partners exchanged blows via their albums, here notably on “How Do You Sleep?” in which he—no kidding—calls Paul a pretty-boy. But one of the great things about Lennon was that he knew he could be a jerk—as he explains on the tender “Jealous Guy.” Imagine strikes a nice balance between the personal and the political. As to the latter, there’s the anti-war “I Don’t Wanna Be a Soldier Mama I Don’t Wanna Die” and the politically disillusioned “Gimme Some Truth.” But there are also plenty of songs written to and about his wife, including the previously mentioned “Jealous Guy” and the joyous “Oh Yoko!” Of course, you can’t talk about Imagine without mentioning the title track. “Imagine” is one of the greatest songs ever written, and has become an anthem for world peace. With little instrumentation other than its simple piano rhythms, it asks us not to take up picket signs or overthrow the government, but merely to picture a better world. Lennon understood that, in order for change to occur, people first have to believe that things can be different. And that is why “Imagine” remains such a powerful song these 40 years later.

40. Station to Station, David Bowie, 1976
At just six songs, Station to Station is a weird little album. Recorded during the darkest days of Bowie’s cocaine addiction, it comes from and takes the listener to very strange places. The album starts with what sounds like a train in motion and soon moves on to some ominous—though funky—chords. It is not until over three minutes later that we get lyrics: “The return of the Thin White Duke/Throwing darts in lovers’ eyes.” We don’t know exactly who this mysterious Duke is, but it’s clear he’s into some dark shit and probably up to no good. Don’t let that fool you, though, into thinking the album is a work of coke-fueled paranoia. “Station to Station” switches to a literally more upbeat tone mid-way through. “It’s not the side effects of the cocaine,” Bowie sings, “I’m thinking that it must be love.” The rest of Station to Station remains fairly positive, though the darkness is always there, lurking at the edges. Following the title track is the album’s big hit “Golden Years,” which, as close to a love song as Bowie ever gets, was supposedly written for his then-wife Angie—or so she says—and “Word on a Wing,” a prayer that, though offered out of desperation, still feels hopeful. Side 2 opens with the playful “TVC 15” which Bowie once described as about a girl in love with her television set, and is thought to have been inspired by his involvement in The Man Who Fell to Earth. Next is the funky “Stay,” which also offers a plea, this time a lover’s more earthly concerns. Finally, the album ends with a cover of “Wild Is the Wind.” Again—another plea, and yet the understated vocals lend the song a gentleness that make it a perfect conclusion to the otherwise strange ride that is Station to Station.

A Selective Guide to Bowie's Movies

Although I wrote about David Bowie as an actor before back in the old “British Actor of the Month” series (maybe I should bring that back one of these days), I thought a more thorough guide to his appearances at the movies was needed. Now, he’s been in a lot of movies, so these are only the ones I can recommend to you. Or, as the case may be, strongly recommend that you don’t see. (And they’re features only. No Sponge Bob, no Jazzin’ for Blue Jean. The latter I strongly recommend.)

 

Recommendations

The Man Who Fell to Earth. In Bowie’s first ever major film role, he plays an alien who’s come to Earth on a rescue mission but who quickly gets taken advantage of and turned into a drunk. Uh… maybe? It’s very arty, so you’re never quite sure what’s really going on. Infamous for its full frontal alien scene, it's really one of the classics of 70s sci-fi. And if you don’t get it, at least the cinematography’s nice. 

Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence. No, Bowie isn’t Mr. Lawrence. (That’s Tom Conti.) Here he plays a paratrooper causing trouble in a prison camp who catches the attention of the Japanese camp leader. The director claims the attraction between the two isn’t supposed to be gay. Whatever. It’s a very interesting contemplation of two very different cultures in conflict. Many fans and critics agree that this is the best performance of Bowie’s film career. 

Labyrinth. Hold it—stop rolling your eyes. Yes, I know this is a kid’s movie. Yes, I know they aren’t exactly the best songs he’s ever written. Yes, I know how tight those pants are—I’m not blind, you know. But, even though its key demographic is twelve-year-old girls, Labyrinth is far more than a kid’s movie. It’s fun and imaginative (Jim Henson directed, after all), has some complex psychological stuff going on, and is even the teensiest bit empowering. It makes quite a nice package… Ok, wrong choice of words there. 

Basquiat. In this biopic, Bowie plays Andy Warhol, who, late in his life, collaborated with Jean-Michel Basquiat. It’s a good indie film about an interesting artist, and Bowie is great as Warhol, even though, other than the authentic wig, he doesn’t look much like him, nor is he doing an impression per se. I once had a professor who is one of the premier Warhol scholars, and he said this is his favorite on-screen version of the artist. 

Zoolander. Bowie has a cameo as himself to judge a walk-off between two male models. He’s in it for less than 5 minutes, but this is perhaps the most hilarious scene in a movie full of hilarious scenes. 

The Prestige. In this film about competing magicians, Bowie plays inventor Nikola Tesla, who, in his day, was the coolest person around and way ahead of his time. Sound familiar? And given that Tesla is rumored to have traveled back from the future, who’s to say they’re not the same person? Anyway, it’s a pretty good movie with a big twist ending and “a lot” of Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman. 

Velvet Goldmine. Not exactly a Bowie movie—especially since he bashed the script and refused to allow any of his songs to be used in it. Todd Haynes uses this Citizen Kane-like story about a glam rocker who is similar to but in no way supposed to be David Bowie *wink, wink* to examine identity and biography and to pay loving tribute to the 70s. Despite the lack of actual Bowie, it’s got a great soundtrack and is a fun, glittery fantasy. A must for Ewan McGreggor fans.

 

Anti-Recommendations

The Hunger. Bowie and vampires! Yay—hold that thought. In the movie’s first act, Bowie is very compelling as an immortal who finds himself aging… very quickly. After that, it’s a postmodern mess. But, for some reason, goths really seem to like this movie. So before you watch, ask yourself just how much the world doesn’t seem to understand your inner torment. 

  Absolute Beginners. Or, as I like to call it, Absolute, uh, Something Else*. Julien Temple of Sex Pistols documentary fame directed this musical tribute to the swinging sixties and racial tension. But if you think that sounds bad… you’re right. Bowie, in addition to writing the title song—which is the only good thing this movie’s got going for it—has a small part as an advertising exec, but gets upstaged by Ray Davies. 

The Linguini Incident. Bowie plays the male lead opposite Rosanna Arquette in this extremely quirky romantic comedy. It’s not awful, but it is pretty weird. And it has a brief though amusing cameo from Iman. Kind of hard to find, and you might not want to make the effort. 

Arthur and the Invisibles. Bowie does a fine job voicing the villain in this half-animated children’s adventure, but the CGI characters look weird, and the premise is a little thin. I didn’t think it was that believable as a fantasy, and, anyway, it leaves too much to be answered in the sequels, which have never been released in the US. (Incidentally, Lou Reed takes over for Bowie in those two movies, and Iggy Pop voices his son. Very clever, M. Besson.) 

The Last Temptation of Christ. Though perhaps not as scandalous as when it was first released, this film is still controversial. Kind of interesting, though, honestly, Scorsese has made a lot of better films. Bowie has an unremarkable cameo as Pontius Pilot that leaves you wishing you were watching Jesus Christ Superstar.

 

Recommended Documentaries

Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. A documentary that captures Bowie’s final concert as Ziggy. The cinema verite (yes, it’s supposed to look that cheap) style is perfect for capturing the raw sexual energy of the performance. It’s very simply shot, but its one of my favorite concert films because it lets the event occur with very little interference. 

Cracked Actor. This BBC TV documentary followed Bowie around during his Diamond Dogs tour in the mid 70s. Two interesting things about this one: First of all, it contains pretty much the only footage of that tour, which was the first major tour by a rock star to use elaborate sets and staging. Second, off stage it captures Bowie at his coked-up best. For some reason, the BBC refuses to give this doc an official release, so YouTube is your friend. 

Serious Moonlight. A direct-to-video concert film of the Asian leg of Bowie’s tour supporting Let’s Dance. Granted, a lot of people think he sold out on that record, but the band here is kick-ass, and they do justice to his late 70s stuff. Sure, the concert production was a little overblown, but it’s still good music. 

Ricochet. Another direct-to-video documentary, this one uses Bowie’s Serious Moonlight tour to examine the role of Western pop culture on the East. Concert footage is mixed in with Bowie driving around Singapore and some staged stuff about Chinese teens trying to score tickets. It’s kind of intellectual, but it’s included on the same DVD as Serious Moonlight, so you might as well give it a go. 

A Reality Tour. This direct-to-DVD concert film captures performances from Bowie’s last tour. At well-over two hours it has some of the finest performances of Bowie’s later career. The sheer energy of the show is amazing considering he was over 50 at the time and months away from a heart attack. There will most likely be no more new Bowie concerts to film, but what a high note to go out on. *That begins with "s," ends with "t," and has an "h" and an "i" somewhere in the middle.

50 Favorite Classic Rock Albums, Part 1

A few months ago, a local classic rock radio station did a countdown of the 100 Greatest Albums as voted on by their listeners. While there were several great choices on it, their list was, for the most part, total crap. (Meatloaf?? Seriously???) So I decided to show them how it's done and make my own list.

Now, you may recall that, over a year ago, I attempted to do something similar by placing all the studio-released albums I own in a list by order of preference. However, that list was hastily (drunkenly) made. This time, I have taken months of careful, painstaking consideration to compile my list. Either that, or I slapped it together ages ago and have just been too lazy to write up this blog. Whichever you want to believe.

All kidding aside, though, I have actually made this list carefully. I did, generally, rank albums by order of preference (hence the use of “favorite” instead of “greatest”), but I also took into account other things such as quality, critical/popular acclaim, and cultural importance. Otherwise, there probably wouldn’t be many other artists besides the Beatles, Dylan, and David Bowie on the list. (Not that there are that many others….) And I came up with some parameters for the list. (Note: these are broken up into sections of 1,000 words or less, so they won't be in pretty blocks of 5 or 10. And probably won't be posted daily. Believe it or not, there is a lot of work that has to go into rock criticism.)

• The same definition of classic rock as the radio station itself (and not the results of their poll) suggested. So the mid-ish 60s to whenever people for the most part stopped buying records on vinyl (late 80s).
• No compilation albums. No bootlegs. Live albums only if they were released within a reasonable period from their recording--Frampton Comes Alive, for example.
• I have to have heard the entire album. No, “well, Side 3 really speaks for the whole thing.” And I have to have actually sat down at some point and listened to the whole thing. For an unfortunate example, even though I’ve heard every song on Are You Experienced?, I’ve never actually listened to it as an album, so it didn’t make the cut.
  

50. Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps), David Bowie, 1980
Many critics consider Scary Monsters to be Bowie’s last great masterpiece. I disagree (with the “last” bit anyway), though in a way they do have a point. Scary Monsters could very well be considered the calumniation of a decade’s worth of work. It comes after a three album period of intense experimentation with Brian Eno. Bowie took the innovative techniques they had employed on Low and “Heroes” and here applied them to songs in a more conventional way. Well, as conventional as a New Waver could be, that is. The album also refers back to the past ten years of Bowie’s career—most notably in the song “Ashes to Ashes” which asks us to recall Major Tom, who, still drifting in space, we are informed has become a junkie. No need to guess what he’s on. The album is best known for the ground-breaking (in style as well as technology) music videos for “Ashes” and “Fashion,” but there are also some lovely little gems among the deep cuts, such as “Up the Hill Backwards” and “Teenage Wildlife.”

49. A Hard Day’s Night [UK version], The Beatles, 1964
In 1964 there was nothing, nothing, on earth bigger than The Beatles. So, naturally, they were offered a movie deal. And a movie would mean they needed new songs. Lennon and McCartney wrote so many songs for A Hard Day’s Night that, in the UK at least, the tie-in album was released not as a soundtrack, but as a proper album. A Hard Day's Night is the first Beatles album to feature all songs written by the band. This means that, unlike their previous two releases, there were no cover songs, nor, sadly, were there any George Harrison compositions. At lot of people look down on the early Beatles records because they’re not as sophisticated as the later ones. Granted, “I’m Happy Just to Dance With You” might not have the complexity of, say, “A Day in the Life,” but let’s not forget that when The Beatles wanted to do rock and roll, they could really do rock and roll. The early songs may be simple, but they were damned good songs, and here, on A Hard Day’s Night, Lennon and McCartney were at the peak of their early songwriting days. The songs from the film, of course, are the most well-remembered, “A Hard Day’s Night” in the iconic opening sequence, and “Can’t Buy Me Love” as the “first” modern music video. The second side is comprised mostly of songs not associated with the film. Particular strong points here include “Things We Said Today,” and “I’ll Be Back.”

48. Crosby, Stills & Nash, 1969
Take a guy from The Byrds, a guy from Buffalo Springfield, and a guy from The Hollies, and what do you get? A band so big that there can be no name appropriate other than their own: Crosby, Stills, and Nash. And for their debut album, no title would do save for those three names. They bring together some of the best sounds of the 60s—a little folk rock, a little British invasion, a little psychedelic—into a sound that is uniquely their own. And just as well as their different musical styles blend, so too do their voices. Some of the best three-part harmony in rock can be heard on the album opener “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.” But for as much as they work so well together, David Crosby, Stephen Stills, and Graham Nash each put their individual stamp on the album. From Stills there is the rolling consonance of “Helplessly Hoping,” from Nash the bouncy “Marrakesh Express,” and from Crosby the harder-rocking, timely “Long Time Gone.” Crosby, Stills & Nash would provide the closing notes of the 60s and at the same time offer a glimpse of the singer-songwriter decade to come.

47-44 43-40

How to Get Into Bowie

The other night, I was YouTube-ing interviews with Venture Brothers creators Jackson Publick and Doc Hammer. In one of them, Hammer advised a fan on where he should start if he wanted to get into Bowie's albums. Now, these guys are the biggest Bowie fans in animation*, but I found myself disagreeing with a lot of what he had to say.

Now, if I were trying to get someone into Bowie, this is how I'd do it. Before we begin, let's be clear on one thing: this isn't for someone who thinks of Bowie as "that old guy Lady Gaga's always talking about." Anyone going through this process should already be familiar with the greatest hits and should be wondering where to start on the albums. So let's begin.

Step 1: The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars and Hunky Dory

These are without a doubt his two best albums, so naturally they'd be the best place to start. But there are other good reasons to begin here. I'm having you initiates start with Ziggy Stardust because, after nearly forty years, it's his best known work. Despite the reputation of being "rock's chameleon," we still tend to characterize Bowie as that androgynous rock star from outer space. Next, go back one album and listen to Hunky Dory, which I think is the better (if only slightly) of the two. It's important to hear this one early not only because of its quality, but because, with its different musical styles, it's practically Bowie's career in microcosm. It's all about "Ch-ch-ch-Changes", right? And, also, "Life on Mars?" is made of win.

Like what you've heard so far? Be sure to pick up the highlights of the Ziggy period before moving on. Listen to Aladdin Sane (another strong album) and Live Santa Monica 72 and watch D. A. Pennebaker's documentary Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.

Step 2: Diamond Dogs

We've moved past Ziggy Stardust here, but we're still in our glam rock comfort zone. (You'll recognize "Rebel Rebel.") This concept album loosely based on 1984 should be a good introduction to a more soulful sound as well as heavier stuff to come.

Think you're ready to move on? Be sure to check out David Live and Young Americans so you can get a better sense of the whole "plastic soul" thing before you do so. And track down a bootleg of Cracked Actor for some cocaine-fueled craziness. Trust me, you'll need it for where we're going next.

Step 3: Station to Station

Experimentation doesn't get much more complex than on the epic title track, but this is a much more complex album than the one that preceded it. And hoo-boy is it dark! "It's not the side effects of the cocaine," he sings, but I'm thinking that it might be. This is a weird little (only six tracks) album, albeit a very good one. Seriously, don't skip it.

Not storing your urine in the fridge, are you? Good, then before you move on, listen to Live Nassau Coliseum 76 (available on the special and deluxe editions of Station and as a bootleg) and check him out in The Man Who Fell to Earth. Keep an open mind; it's "arty."

Step 4: Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps)

Note: If you feel you can handle more experimental stuff, by all means feel free to keep things chronological and skip ahead to Step 5.

This album emerged after a period of intense experimentation, so it's sort-of like he figured out how to use all the weird shit he and Brian Eno did in a way people would actually want to listen to. But don't think of it as an exercise in crass commercialism. It is as fresh and vibrant as and holds up very well next to all the stuff the New Wave kids were also doing in 1980. Many critics and fans alike call Scary Monsters Bowie's last good album, though that's debatable. Not that it's a good album, that it's his last good album.

Still with me? Iron your clown suit and watch a couple of his "better"** 80s roles--Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence and The Hunger (the first act, anyway--after that it pretty much sucks)--before we move back a few albums.

Step 5: Low and "Heroes"

At the time, these albums were considered highly experimental. Now that their electronic techniques have been widely adopted, they don't come off quite as shocking, though they are by no means dated. What might be a turn-off for some is that they both feature album sides that are almost entirely instrumental. But don't let that stop you from giving these two a listen. The Side 2's feature some very moving pieces, and there are great songs on the Side 1's, including "'Heroes,'" considered Bowie's best by everyone who doesn't favor "Life on Mars?"

Haven't gotten stuck on the wrong side of the Wall without a passport, have you? Then be sure to listen to Lodger and Stage (look for the version where the track order's been fixed) before continuing on to the next step.

Step 6: Heathen and Hours...

Stop! Those of you who skipped to Step 5, have you gone back to pick up Step 4? Okay, then you may proceed.

Next, we're going to move ahead to what likely is the end of Bowie's career. But, hey, it's not a bad end. First, listen to Heathen, which holds up well to all the albums I've had you listen to already while still being thoroughly modern. Next listen to Hours... which despite poor reviews when it came out, has grown on many fans with age.

Are you ready to retire? If not, listen to Reality (good songs, but not as coherent as the other two) and watch A Reality Tour and The Prestige.

Step 7: The weird stuff. This has two parts, which can be done in any order.

Step 7a: Space Oddity and The Man Who Sold the World

Bowie's psychedelic folkie period. Though the title tracks have become Bowie classics, some of the other songs are a bit of an acquired taste. Especially if, in the case of the latter, psychedelic folk/hard rock fusion isn't exactly your thing.

Step 7b: Earthling and 1. Outside

Bowie's 90s experimental phase. I'm having you start with Earthling, though it's not as strong an album as the other, because it's more accessible. Underneath all the drum 'n' bass stuff are some pretty good songs. 1. Outside, on the other hand, is a concept album, or, rather, a "non-linear Gothic Drama Hyper-Cycle." It's the first in a series of three albums about a detective looking into the disappearance of a teenage girl who's being murdered for Art... that's not told in any particular order... or finished, for that matter. But other than that it's really good! I'm serious. You've gotta hear it. Just... not at night. It's really creepy.

Are you now terrified of those citizens of the land between Canada and Mexico? Or ready to pack it all in and join a Buddhist monastery? If not, proceed to the next step.

Step 8: Let's Dance

The first time Bowie's music actually found favor with a mainstream audience. Much debate among fans and music critics over whether this is actually a good album or if its popularity was supported by a couple of hit singles with interesting music videos.

Do you find yourself forgiving Bowie his commercial sins, even after you've also watched Labyrinth and the Serious Moonlight tour documentary? Congratualtions, you are now truly into Bowie. And while you're at it, have a Pepsi.

Take a victory lap. Listen to some rare stuff like Sound + Vision or Bowie at the Beeb and check out some of his soundtrack work such as The Buddha of Suburbia.

Or, for the brave, check out the more dubious albums: David Bowie (cabaret???), Pin Ups, Tonight, Never Let Me Down, Black Tie White Noise (Okay, some people liked it), and the whole Tin Machine debacle. And there are plenty of really bad film roles to check out. (Absolute Beginners, anyone?)







*Bigger than the Sponge Bob people, you ask? Let's see... 1) The Sovereign, head of The Guild of Calamitous Intent and most powerful, least failure-prone character in the series, is none other than David Bowie. 2) The episode "Ghosts of the Sargasso" opens with characters basically acting out "Space Oddity," dialogue lifted straight from the song. 3) Tons and tons of other Bowie references. So, yes.
**Labyrinth rules!!!

Album Face Off

I've always wanted to write music reviews, but, sadly, I tend to be not all that objective when it comes to music. I fear that they would only consist of three words: "Dude, that rocked/sucked." However, I'm rather good at comparing and ranking things (just look in the back entries for that time I decided to use my living room floor to put all my CDs in order of preference), so I've decided to start a feature in which I pit two or more albums against each other to determine, if possible, which is the greater(est). For this first match up, I present to you

Raw Power versus... Raw Power?

I know, some of you may be confused. Is there another Raw Power besides the one by Iggy and the Stooges, you ask. Well, gather 'round, children, it's story time. See, the original 1973 version was mixed by David Bowie, but by the time of the CD re-release in 1997, Iggy Pop had decided that he didn't wanna be perceived as Bowie's dog anymore (I think that joke might be stolen from The Venture Brothers, at least in spirit), so he remixed it. Thus, there are two different versions of the album available.

I kind of prefer the Iggy Pop mix. Bowie's version mixes the instruments much lower than the vocals, making them harder to hear. In the later version there's a more even distribution of volume. However, the original mix does have some very strong merits. For one thing, if you listen carefully, there's some musical parts in this one that get lost on the second mix. For another, to paraphrase some guy at Rolling Stone, the necessity of having to turn it up to hear it properly gave the record an aggressive quality, thus cementing the bands reputation as Godfathers of punk. Historical value aside, the recently re-released Bowie mix, while a bit more expensive, comes with a bonus disc of an Atlanta performance. It's not the best live recording ever, but it does contain some excellent audience abuse.

Basically, though, the differences between the two mixes are subtle enough that unless you're a character from the film High Fidelity, you're not really going to find them that big of a deal. Either way, it's a damn good record, and rightly deserves its place on most top 100 (or whatever) album lists. (See? What did I tell you--no objectivity whatsoever.) So some advice to the consumer: If you're a casual fan or just curious, you'll probably want to get the Iggy mix--most places have it for under $10, so it's the right price. The more hard-core music lover may want to shell out extra for the "new" version of the old mix, though. Devout Stooges fans, however, probably have both.






Note to my readers: I could really use some feedback. Was my little foray into the world of music criticism successful, and if so, what should I match up next? Let It Be v. Let It Be... Naked? V. The Replacement's Let It Be? Stereo v. Mono Pet Sounds? Brandenburg Concerto #2 v. #3? Suggestions are welcome, as long as they don't suck.

British Actor of the Month--Cracked* Edition

What's hotter, a rock star or a British actor? Answer: a rock star who is also a British actor.

Since I'm doing papers this semester on glam rock and 80s fantasy films, this month's featured fella is none other than

David Bowie

OK, you probably know Bowie as the aging rocker who used to wear women's clothes and pretend to be an alien now married to a supermodel, but unless you've been floating around in space for the past 40 years,** you're probably at least somewhat aware of his acting career. While many of the other guys on this list learned acting at RADA or Cambridge, Bowie had mime training. (No, seriously. Stop laughing.) Though Bowie's tours from his Ziggy Stardust days could be pretty theatrical, he first gained attention as an actor when he played the lead in Nicholas Roeg's The Man Who Fell to Earth, an arty sci-fi critique of American life and imperialism. Since then, Bowie has had roles as diverse as his music, playing the title character in The Elephant Man on stage, the Goblin King in nerdy fan-girl favorite Labyrinth, and most recently as Nikola Tesla in The Prestige.

Of course, it's always fun to see him make cameo appearances as himself, so enjoy this clip from Extras:

*See Aladdin Sane.

**Haha. Get it?