Ziggy

EDITOR’S

INTRODUCTION

WARDOUR STREET, 10.30 on a drizzly Saturday morning. A couple of hundred kids are standing in a straggly but peaceful line outside The Marquee Club.

So wrote Charles Shaar Murray in the 27 October 1973 issue of the New Musical Express. Murray was one of the invited guests to The Marquee during those few days when David Bowie taped a performance for American television show The Midnight Special, and which he would name ‘The 1980 Floor Show.’ It was David Bowie’s manager at the time, Tony Defries, who would call noted photographer Terry O’Neill and invite him to the gig, in the hope that O’Neill’s photos would wind up in the papers in the following days. “Tony knew I worked with Marianne [Faithfull] and she was scheduled to perform that day, so I was happy to come along.” The venue was The Marquee Club at 90 Wardour Street in Soho, London. Soho was one of the main epicentres for music in central London, and the club would play host to hundreds of artists, a who’s who in music history. Legend has it, when Jimi Hendrix played The Marquee in 1967, members of The Beatles were in the audience to bear witness. Nearly 40 years later, as we compiled this book with Terry O’Neill, we asked a selection of people who were there on that day, for that iconic performance, what they remembered. What we heard were stories of being young, being influenced and being inspired.

Terry O’Neill only spent one day at the filming, which would last three [18-20 October]. “I wasn’t there to capture everything, I was there to take photos of Bowie – and Marianne – and I did end up selling them quite quickly to the press. I never saw Carmen or The Troggs perform, nor did I capture the other sets Bowie put on over those few days at The Marquee. Looking back, I’m sorry I didn’t bring colour film – which I rarely used.

The colours, from the costumes to his hair and makeup, were extraordinary.”

When it came time to design the book, we decided to group the images as best we could using Bowie’s astonishing costumes as a guide. This book is not intended to run “in order” of the actual aired performance, because too many of the songs that were aired on television were not photographed by O’Neill. We wanted to tell the story of what Terry saw – and the people he captured – from fans to stars, singers to stylists, onstage and off. Details of these contributors can be found on pages 204 to 205.

There is no way to express the impact David Bowie had on people – from teenage fans, to backstage friends, to working partners and fellow musicians. We hope that through this book, we’re able to present Terry O’Neill’s archive of images from that moment in time, including many never-before-seen shots and contact sheets, to help add to our memory scrapbook and to inspire future generations to be inspired by a man who played The Marquee.

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EDITOR’S

INTRODUCTION

WARDOUR STREET, 10.30 on a drizzly Saturday morning. A couple of hundred kids are standing in a straggly but peaceful line outside The Marquee Club.

So wrote Charles Shaar Murray in the 27 October 1973 issue of the New Musical Express. Murray was one of the invited guests to The Marquee during those few days when David Bowie taped a performance for American television show The Midnight Special, and which he would name ‘The 1980 Floor Show.’ It was David Bowie’s manager at the time, Tony Defries, who would call noted photographer Terry O’Neill and invite him to the gig, in the hope that O’Neill’s photos would wind up in the papers in the following days. “Tony knew I worked with Marianne [Faithfull] and she was scheduled to perform that day, so I was happy to come along.” The venue was The Marquee Club at 90 Wardour Street in Soho, London. Soho was one of the main epicentres for music in central London, and the club would play host to hundreds of artists, a who’s who in music history. Legend has it, when Jimi Hendrix played The Marquee in 1967, members of The Beatles were in the audience to bear witness. Nearly 40 years later, as we compiled this book with Terry O’Neill, we asked a selection of people who were there on that day, for that iconic performance, what they remembered. What we heard were stories of being young, being influenced and being inspired.

Terry O’Neill only spent one day at the filming, which would last three [18-20 October]. “I wasn’t there to capture everything, I was there to take photos of Bowie – and Marianne – and I did end up selling them quite quickly to the press. I never saw Carmen or The Troggs perform, nor did I capture the other sets Bowie put on over those few days at The Marquee. Looking back, I’m sorry I didn’t bring colour film – which I rarely used.

The colours, from the costumes to his hair and makeup, were extraordinary.”

When it came time to design the book, we decided to group the images as best we could using Bowie’s astonishing costumes as a guide. This book is not intended to run “in order” of the actual aired performance, because too many of the songs that were aired on television were not photographed by O’Neill. We wanted to tell the story of what Terry saw – and the people he captured – from fans to stars, singers to stylists, onstage and off. Details of these contributors can be found on pages 204 to 205.

There is no way to express the impact David Bowie had on people – from teenage fans, to backstage friends, to working partners and fellow musicians. We hope that through this book, we’re able to present Terry O’Neill’s archive of images from that moment in time, including many never-before-seen shots and contact sheets, to help add to our memory scrapbook and to inspire future generations to be inspired by a man who played The Marquee.

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I WAS TWENTY-SEVEN, hanging out and having the time of my life with

my old school friend. But even on stage, he was just David to me, doing what he did. He was my mate. Even from a young age, he’d always had that element in him, to be a performer, and getting into costume changes in bands. It’s only after, when you look back, that you realise how special it was.

I hadn’t been on the road and performed before and suddenly we were going from Hawaii to Japan or travelling on the Trans-Siberian Express. Being in David’s band was like being in a bubble, very surreal. It was crazy and dreamlike, like living in an imaginary land. Everything was happening very fast. You didn’t have time to think or reflect about it. It was like a big family where we all knew each other from the scene. It was like a never-ending party where you just change clothes every other day.

David had come up with the name the Astronettes for the three of us. I wouldn’t call it inspired! It was our first and only performance. David and I first saw Ava in a club in New York wearing a tuxedo. She was introduced to us and became David’s girlfriend. We all had nicknames. David had obviously changed his name, so I thought, “Why shouldn’t I?” so I gave the name Warren Peace to myself which is how I’m credited on the album sleeves.

We used to go to The Marquee in the sixties, when it was part of the Mod scene, and other clubs in the West End like the Bataclan and The Scene in Ham Yard.The songs on Pin Ups came from this period, like ‘Everything’s Alright’, ‘Sorrow’ and The Who’s ‘I Can’t Explain’. During the American tour in 1973 we’d picked up on the Philly sound and listening to all those great records. All that very much influenced what we wore for the TV special.

It pre-dates the Young Americans image. David decided the costumes we wore with Freddie Burretti. Jason and I wore similar clothes: unbuttoned shirt tied at the bottom; and high-waist grey cotton flares. David would rehearse our synchronised movements and we were very tight and rehearsed and professional, especially from the Pin Ups session. But The Marquee gig was relaxed and loose amongst us all. Later, on the Diamond Dogs tour, we got very slick.

GEOFF MACCORMACK

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I WAS TWENTY-SEVEN, hanging out and having the time of my life with

my old school friend. But even on stage, he was just David to me, doing what he did. He was my mate. Even from a young age, he’d always had that element in him, to be a performer, and getting into costume changes in bands. It’s only after, when you look back, that you realise how special it was.

I hadn’t been on the road and performed before and suddenly we were going from Hawaii to Japan or travelling on the Trans-Siberian Express. Being in David’s band was like being in a bubble, very surreal. It was crazy and dreamlike, like living in an imaginary land. Everything was happening very fast. You didn’t have time to think or reflect about it. It was like a big family where we all knew each other from the scene. It was like a never-ending party where you just change clothes every other day.

David had come up with the name the Astronettes for the three of us. I wouldn’t call it inspired! It was our first and only performance. David and I first saw Ava in a club in New York wearing a tuxedo. She was introduced to us and became David’s girlfriend. We all had nicknames. David had obviously changed his name, so I thought, “Why shouldn’t I?” so I gave the name Warren Peace to myself which is how I’m credited on the album sleeves.

We used to go to The Marquee in the sixties, when it was part of the Mod scene, and other clubs in the West End like the Bataclan and The Scene in Ham Yard.The songs on Pin Ups came from this period, like ‘Everything’s Alright’, ‘Sorrow’ and The Who’s ‘I Can’t Explain’. During the American tour in 1973 we’d picked up on the Philly sound and listening to all those great records. All that very much influenced what we wore for the TV special.

It pre-dates the Young Americans image. David decided the costumes we wore with Freddie Burretti. Jason and I wore similar clothes: unbuttoned shirt tied at the bottom; and high-waist grey cotton flares. David would rehearse our synchronised movements and we were very tight and rehearsed and professional, especially from the Pin Ups session. But The Marquee gig was relaxed and loose amongst us all. Later, on the Diamond Dogs tour, we got very slick.

GEOFF MACCORMACK

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OUTFITS WERE SHOCKING. “ DAVID’S HE WAS DRESSED FULL-ON GLAM WITH MAKEUP AND EARRINGS. IF YOU SAW A BLOKE WALKING DOWN THE STREET DRESSED LIKE THAT YOU WOULD THINK, ‘HE’S A BRAVE BOY!’ I DON’T THINK THAT’S HAPPENED SINCE WITH A ROCK STAR WHERE THAT SEXUAL APPEAL WAS SO LIBERATING. IT WAS AN ANDROGYNOUS LOOK THAT GIRLS FOUND SEXY BUT SO DID THE BOYS.

”

Glen Marks

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OUTFITS WERE SHOCKING. “ DAVID’S HE WAS DRESSED FULL-ON GLAM WITH MAKEUP AND EARRINGS. IF YOU SAW A BLOKE WALKING DOWN THE STREET DRESSED LIKE THAT YOU WOULD THINK, ‘HE’S A BRAVE BOY!’ I DON’T THINK THAT’S HAPPENED SINCE WITH A ROCK STAR WHERE THAT SEXUAL APPEAL WAS SO LIBERATING. IT WAS AN ANDROGYNOUS LOOK THAT GIRLS FOUND SEXY BUT SO DID THE BOYS.

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Glen Marks

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DAVID WAS BRILLIANT. HE WAS VERY PATIENT WITH EVERYONE, VERY METHODICAL AND KNOWLEDGEABLE ABOUT EXACTLY WHAT HE WANTED AND WHAT HE DIDN’T WANT.

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Ava Cherry

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DAVID WAS BRILLIANT. HE WAS VERY PATIENT WITH EVERYONE, VERY METHODICAL AND KNOWLEDGEABLE ABOUT EXACTLY WHAT HE WANTED AND WHAT HE DIDN’T WANT.

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Ava Cherry

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IT WAS THE FIRST TIME I MET MARIANNE

I’d seen her around. I put on her nun’s costume for the duet with David going,“Oh my god, okay!” Marianne said, “I can’t lift my arms” and “that’s what drugs will do for you.” She had nothing on underneath except black stockings and maybe a bra, but no knickers. It was revealing on purpose. It was the sexiest nun you’d ever seen in your life. She was a star. And a lot of fun. The Americans were so freaked out by everything that we were doing. So you kind of did it to thumb your nose at them a little bit.

SUZI RONSON

IT WAS THE FIRST TIME I MET MARIANNE

I’d seen her around. I put on her nun’s costume for the duet with David going,“Oh my god, okay!” Marianne said, “I can’t lift my arms” and “that’s what drugs will do for you.” She had nothing on underneath except black stockings and maybe a bra, but no knickers. It was revealing on purpose. It was the sexiest nun you’d ever seen in your life. She was a star. And a lot of fun. The Americans were so freaked out by everything that we were doing. So you kind of did it to thumb your nose at them a little bit.

SUZI RONSON

INSIDE THE ALADDIN SANE SLEEVE

there was an

insert to join the newly named David Bowie Fan Club but I had wanted to join the David Bowie Appreciation Society so I didn’t sign up. So, not having tickets, we bunked into the Marquee on the Friday night and then we met Corrine (Coco Schwab), who was Bowie’s assistant, and she said, “I’ve got some spare tickets for the afternoon session tomorrow.” I had played volleyball at school on the Friday and the ball had hit my wrist so the vein had blown up. So, I went to The Marquee with a compression bandage on my left wrist. Everybody was saying,“Oh yeah, I feel like that sometimes.” People thought I’d tried to slash my wrists and were commiserating with me because of Bowie saying he was never going to perform again. I saw the Aladdin Sane tour in Lewisham, sitting in the front row, but my mum didn’t let me go to the last night of the tour at Hammersmith – “No, no you’ve got school work” – but on the film I can see all my schoolmates in the front row.

I’d met Bowie before because I’d stood outside his house in Beckenham and then Chelsea and he’d given me an autograph. So, I knew who all the entourage were: Daniella, the nanny; Freddie Burretti, the tailor; and Zowie Bowie, who was a little boy in a pushchair. They were all characters, but real people because I’d met them.

We were so obsessed by it all. There were a whole load of us, real Bowie nuts. Bowie was like a touchstone, and was the centre of what we were doing. I was into theatre and thought Bowie was amazing. He was weird and different and it gave me something to be, “This is what I’m into, this is who I am.” You weren’t called “fans”, if you were into him, you were a “Bowie freak”. It was a way of describing yourself without having to find extra words, you were a “Bowie freak”. I was used to being the odd one out and different. I was mixed race but also the clever kid and really skinny. So, just add weird into that; it didn’t really make much difference. You’d get an album and play it in the dark on repeat. Bowie was the catalyst and he was at the centre of it. But the rest of it, all the relationships that you had in your life, was initiated by being fans.

RHODA DAKAR

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INSIDE THE ALADDIN SANE SLEEVE

there was an

insert to join the newly named David Bowie Fan Club but I had wanted to join the David Bowie Appreciation Society so I didn’t sign up. So, not having tickets, we bunked into the Marquee on the Friday night and then we met Corrine (Coco Schwab), who was Bowie’s assistant, and she said, “I’ve got some spare tickets for the afternoon session tomorrow.” I had played volleyball at school on the Friday and the ball had hit my wrist so the vein had blown up. So, I went to The Marquee with a compression bandage on my left wrist. Everybody was saying,“Oh yeah, I feel like that sometimes.” People thought I’d tried to slash my wrists and were commiserating with me because of Bowie saying he was never going to perform again. I saw the Aladdin Sane tour in Lewisham, sitting in the front row, but my mum didn’t let me go to the last night of the tour at Hammersmith – “No, no you’ve got school work” – but on the film I can see all my schoolmates in the front row.

I’d met Bowie before because I’d stood outside his house in Beckenham and then Chelsea and he’d given me an autograph. So, I knew who all the entourage were: Daniella, the nanny; Freddie Burretti, the tailor; and Zowie Bowie, who was a little boy in a pushchair. They were all characters, but real people because I’d met them.

We were so obsessed by it all. There were a whole load of us, real Bowie nuts. Bowie was like a touchstone, and was the centre of what we were doing. I was into theatre and thought Bowie was amazing. He was weird and different and it gave me something to be, “This is what I’m into, this is who I am.” You weren’t called “fans”, if you were into him, you were a “Bowie freak”. It was a way of describing yourself without having to find extra words, you were a “Bowie freak”. I was used to being the odd one out and different. I was mixed race but also the clever kid and really skinny. So, just add weird into that; it didn’t really make much difference. You’d get an album and play it in the dark on repeat. Bowie was the catalyst and he was at the centre of it. But the rest of it, all the relationships that you had in your life, was initiated by being fans.

RHODA DAKAR

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