David Bowie
– The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars
David Bowie didn’t just create a character with Ziggy Stardust — he rewrote the whole playbook on what rock stars could be. This wasn’t some stitched-together novelty; it was a full-body possession, with Bowie channeling alien glamour, desperation, and messianic madness through every cracked note and glitter-coated riff. Ziggy doesn’t hold your hand or explain itself. It simply is — falling from the stars, burning out spectacularly, and leaving a generation gasping in its wake.
Best of…
The Spiders from Mars weren’t just backing musicians; they sounded like a gang willing to follow Bowie off a cliff. Mick Ronson’s guitar work turns every song into a fistfight between elegance and decay. The production, raw and immediate, leaves just enough grime on the glam to keep it human. Bowie’s voice — fragile one second, roaring the next — is the glue that holds it together. He’s the boy in the band, the fallen savior, the last kid alive at the end of the world.
What makes Ziggy Stardust still hit so hard isn’t just the sound or the character. It’s the feeling of being teetering on the edge of something bigger than yourself, and not knowing if you’ll fly or crash. It’s a love letter to freaks, loners, and the beautiful, broken dreamers who always knew they’d burn out before they faded away. Bowie gave them a soundtrack, and somehow, it still feels like it’s waiting for the rest of us to catch up.
Choice Tracks
Five Years
Doom wrapped in a lullaby. Bowie paints the end of the world in gut-wrenching, vivid strokes, his voice cracking just enough to make you feel like it’s already happening outside your window.
Moonage Daydream
A neon-colored fever dream with Ronson’s guitar shredding through the atmosphere. Bowie’s delivery swings from hushed prophecy to full-throated chaos, and it feels like standing inside a supernova.
Starman
One of Bowie’s greatest pop moments, hands down. Sweet but sly, innocent but knowing. That soaring “Let the children boogie” hook is pure gold, still sparking like live wire after all these years.
Ziggy Stardust
A glam rock origin myth and funeral march rolled into one. Ronson’s iconic riff stumbles and snarls, while Bowie sketches Ziggy’s rise and fall with the casual cruelty of a god tearing up his favorite toy.
Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide
The final curtain call. Bowie’s pleading vocals climb higher and higher until they collapse into a desperate, furious embrace. It’s not about survival — it’s about going out in flames and meaning every second of it.