Description

Immediate dispatch from Somerset. Nice book in great condition. Pages in excellent condition. Images are beautiful bright and vivid. No notes or highlighting. See images. Fantastic book.

About the book >.>.> Bething and everybody was Bowie It didn’t matter where you came from if you were a skinhead or suedehead a rocker or regar a small-town teen surly suburban oik or an in-your-face inner city dude from that life changing epoch-making Thursday onwards you had been touched by the Starman and you stayed touched What Elvis and his pelvis were to a generation of Americans before a catalyst and a cause celebre a reason to rebel perform and create so Bowie with those alien eyes was to kids growing up in crapps strife-torn early closing corrugated-iron clad seventies Britain. It was of no importance that David Bowie Jones had spent the previous decade desperately try ing to find his persona and his voice. Who knew or cared that this new leper messiah had a slew of former lives? Suddenly he’d hit perfect pitch and for the next dozen or so sears he stayed at the vanguard of just about everything good and wild that came out of Britain. There was harels a band or an artist designer or writer photographer or hairdresser who didn’t trace their creative lineage back to Bowie and in particular Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars To understand the full potency of Bowie back then you have to realise just hoss grey and broken Britain was in the early seventies. If the sixties had been a massive party this was the hangover: dreary depressed and dominated by a suffocating corporatism that saw the cu lunch from crisis to crisis while listening to leaden long-haired rock bands in flapping t jeans. Backward-looking culturally conservative prone to random violence and still ligus former wars Britain was seen as the sick man of Europe and the prospects for a teenager growing up here we pretty bleak. (OS)