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cyarsk52-20 · 2 years ago

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Story from UNBOTHERED

Angela Bassett Doesn’t Owe The Oscars A Thing �� Not Even A Smile

INEYE KOMONIBO

LAST UPDATED MARCH 13, 2023, 11:53 AM

PHOTO: GILBERT FLORES/VARIETY/GETTY IMAGES.

My expectations for this year’s Oscar Awards were low. After another long awards season of Hollywood doing what it does best — ignoring Black art — I wasn’t particularly looking forward to the show besides judging the celebrity fashions on the red carpet, watching Rihanna perform live (Twice in one month? What a time to be alive!), and getting these tweets off. Still, the promise of Angela “Thee Original Thespian” Bassett doing the thing and finally getting the Oscar she’s long been due for her powerful performance as Queen Ramonda in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever fueled me. Dressed in a gorgeous purple Moschino gown, Bassett looked every bit of the Wakandan royalty she brought to life (and – spoiler – death) just months ago. I just knew that this was going to be her night.

Sigh.

In the stacked category of Best Supporting Actress, it was Jamie Lee Curtis who walked away with the Oscar for her role in the box office giant Everything Everywhere All At Once. Curtis’ win was a surprise. Besides Bassett, Curtis’ co-star Stephanie Hsu was the other fan favorite and natural shoe-in for the category, bringing audiences to tears as Michelle Yeoh’s daughter and nemesis in the A24 film (which also took home seven different Oscars, including Best Picture).

However, knowing the Academy’s history of excluding Black women and having read some of the blatantly and violently anti-Black rationale behind their votes, we shouldn’t have been surprised by Bassett’s snub. (Days before the awards show took place, several nameless trolls within the voting body freely discussed their resentment towards the Black actors and directors in EW’s annual secret ballot reveal. One voter’s beef with Bassett’s Wakanda Forever performance? “It's a comic book, and she was a comic book character.” How astute.) Nonetheless, the loss still stung. When Bassett’s name wasn’t called, the fans weren’t the only people taken aback. Most of her fellow nominees offered up big smiles and overeager cheers, but Bassett’s face fell, and you could very clearly see the disappointment in her eyes. She couldn't mask the fact that her feelings were hurt — and she shouldn’t have had to.

Hawk-eyed Oscars viewers took notice of the actress’ crestfallen reaction, and unfortunately, some actually took it upon themselves to try to teach her a lesson in etiquette. (Before you even ask: yes, they were.) Many people on social media took issue with the fact that Bassett didn’t stand to applaud for Curtis or fake a smile in the moment. Some jumped at the chance to call her a “sore loser,” suggesting that her very human reaction was more about ego and “entitlement.” Let them and the racist anonymous Academy voters tell it, Bassett should’ve been thankful just to be included in the nominations.

Here’s the thing: losing sucks. No matter what field or industry you’re in, no matter which way you look at it, not winning is a crappy feeling, and it doesn’t get easier the older you are or the longer you’ve been in the game. In Bassett’s case, it probably feels even worse because it’s yet another slap in the face. After an awards season (there are multiple other award shows that lead up to the Oscars and act as predictors of the winners) where Bassett was the clear favorite, her omission from the winners’ circle is even more frustrating. It’s a reminder that no matter how talented she is — and she is so talented — her work may never be good enough for this establishment.

Bassett has been working in Hollywood since the late 1980s, becoming a household name through the success of projects like Boyz in the Hood, How Stella Got Her Groove Back, What’s Love Got to Do with It, The Jacksons: The American Dream, Malcolm X, Waiting to Exhale, and countless others. Her work, just like her beauty, is timeless, and it has always been excellent, no matter the role. Yet, in these almost 40 years of consistently incredible performances, Bassett has been overlooked by the Academy. It’s hard to wrap my mind around it, but with hundreds of acting creditsunder her belt, she has never won an Oscar. Not a single one.

The Hollywood veteran has been candidly optimistic about the trajectory of her career and the fact that she doesn’t have an Oscar yet. We may feel that she should have won in for What’s Love Got to Do with It — a portrayal so convincing that a whole generation was convinced that Bassett was Tina Turner — and should have at least been nominated for several more roles over the years, but Bassett hasn’t taken it too personally. In a recent interview with CBS’ Gayle King, the actress shrugged off the losses and chalked them up to fate.

"Of course, in the moment you're hoping and praying and wishing, but I never walk away thinking I've been robbed,” Bassett shared. "That's too negative of an emotion to carry with me for the rest of my life. I choose to believe there was a reason why it didn't happen."

That typically sunny outlook and the humility that she projects despite literally being Angela Bassett makes this loss (and the subsequent negative discourse about her response to it) feel especially egregious. Following the global success of Black Panther, the stakes for its sequel were sky high, and the cast and crew of the Marvel Cinematic Universe knew that picking up the story of one of the most beloved superheroes of our time without our real-life hero would be a Herculean task. But Ryan Coogler and the cast of Black Panther: Wakanda Forever were up for the challenge and exceeded expectations by telling a new kind of superhero story. From its soundtrack to its historic Oscar-winning costuming, every single aspect of the film was moving, but Bassett’s performance as the grieving Queen Ramonda was especially poignant; her grief-stricken throne room monologue shook audiences to their core. (Months later, we stillhaven’t forgiven Ryan Coogler for what he did.) Her final act as the Wakandan matriarch was so impactful that it made history, earning the MCU its first ever Oscar nomination for acting — a significant achievement considering the industry’s snobbery towards the superhero genre. With her performance, the MCU was finally seen as real cinema, as real art.

Given the heavy lifting Bassett did for her film, for the genre, and for Hollywood with her portrayal, it’s only natural for her to feel letdown by the loss at the Oscars. But in a space where Black art, feelings, and people aren’t a priority, she was demonized for a perfectly normal reaction. Interestingly enough, Bassett wasn’t the only loser in her category to not plaster on a smile after the announcement; The Banshees of Inisherin’s leading lady Kerry Condon was also noticeably stone-faced upon learning that she’d lost. And across other categories, many of the male nominees didn't crack a smile either. Yet Bassett’s facial expression is the only one being picked apart, criticized, and demonized. Wonder why that is.

Beyond my natural instinct to want to defend Bassett (that’s Muva!), I have so much empathy for her in that moment and in the conversation that resulted from it because I’ve been in her position. All Black women have. We know that society holds us to the highest standards while simultaneously leaving us no margin for error. Misogynoir demands that we always be the best and brightest in every room — the most talented, the most put together, the friendliest — but it also intentionally strips us of our humanity in the process. The emotions of Black women are rarely respected or taken into consideration within these spaces. Having a bad day at work and being quieter than usual? People take issue with it and single you out. Standing up for yourself in an unfair situation? You’re quick to be labeled “aggressive” or “intimidating.” Even when you’re on the opposite end of the emotional spectrum, happily doing your thing and feeling yourself á la Beyoncé, it’s a problem. They want to humble us in triumph and then ask us not to be human in defeat. The perpetual policing of our emotions is the reason why so many of us are constantly performing happiness and trying to be agreeable, even to our own detriment. It’s not about masking or trying to fit in; it’s about survival.

Angela Bassett was robbed at the 2023 Oscars, point blank period. It wasn’t the first snub, and knowing this industry’s thinly veiled resentment towards talented Black women, it unfortunately will likely not be the last. Even though she’s been rejected and ignored by the establishment time and time again, Bassett has never let it stop her from doing the work that she loves. She’s an artist through and through, a thespian dedicated to her craft, a maverick devoted to the culture. She does this because she’s passionate about it. And that love of telling stories — telling our stories — will always serve a purpose far more important than anything the Academy has to offer.

Still, before anything else, Bassett is a human being first. And while the Academy may owe her an Oscar or two (or five), she doesn't owe them a single thing. Not even a smile.

IN DEFENSE OF ANGELA BASSETT'S DISAPPOINTMENT

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON MARCH 13, 2023, 7:53 AM

UNBOTHERED • ENTERTAINMENT • MOVIES • OSCARS

WRITTEN BY INEYE KOMONIBO

PHOTO: GILBERT FLORES/VARIETY/GETTY IMAGES

Sent from my iPhone

#Oscars #biopic #95th academy awards #oscars 2023 #the oscars #academy awards #oscars #Post

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palmviewfm · 19 hours ago

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mw counterpart and/or label?

for counterparts, i'd say: sloane petersen, allie hamilton, noah calhoun, emily fields, aria montgomery, mona vanderwaal, bonnie bennett, elena gilbert, summer roberts, seth cohen, anna stern, marissa cooper, toni topaz, betty cooper, archie andrews, jughead jones, reggie mantle, midge klump, moose mason, joey potter, jen lindley, dawson leery, pacey witter, andie mcphee, jack mcphee, ross geller, joey tribbiani, chandler bing, lip gallagher, clary fray, shaggy rogers, gretchen weiners, karen smith, prue halliwell, phoebe halliwell, serena van der woodsen, dan humphrey, nate archibald, manny santos, emma nelson, sean cameron, spinner mason, liberty van zandt, georgina sparks, rachel gatina, lucas scott, nathan scott, skills taylor, paris geller, tristan dugray, logan huntzberger, lane kim, luke danes, cassie blake, melissa glaser, bianca stratford, layla keating, olivia baker, jordan baker, wednesday addams, morticia addams, faith lehane, cordelia chase, willow rosenberg, libby chessler, angela chase, elphaba, glinda, princess tiana, ariel, snow white, princess belle, prince charming, harvey kinkle, topanga lawrence, cory matthews, eric matthews, angela moore, bella swan, edward cullen, bubbles, blossom, and buttercup ! as for labels: the alfresco, the heel, the interstellar, the primadonna, the sweetheart, the wanderer, the mechanic, the thespian, the quiescent, the hopeless romantic, the dynamo, the cynic, the crimson, the mediator, the virtuoso, the gossiper, the wiseacre, the people pleaser, the optimist, the perfectionist, the stoic, the con artist, the leader, the�� catalyst, the beach lover, the studious, the nature lover, and the isolato !

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caramelcuniculus · 11 months ago

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"I think you've had too much to drink," Descole tells the not-currently-masked man. He hasn't exactly been a light drinker tonight either, but Randall is starting to get a bit too sloppy with it. It won't do for their schemes to be exposed because some fiery redhead's anger gets a little too loud. "Perhaps vengeance is a dish best served when sober." [From Descole to Randall!]

"That's easy for you to say," the drunken Ascot muttered, his eyes mimicking something in between a squint and a glare. Nevertheless, he didn't seem pleased. "It isn't as though you're the one being betrayed and having everything stolen from you. Like- like a rug under your feet!" The thespian had a point in his admission; lashing out would only make their plans fall flat. That still didn't mean Randall wouldn't be upset by everything that's been going on. He would still rightfully be angry at Henry, perhaps Angela somewhat as well. Its never an easy feeling, to be stabbed through your back after everything you've been through with somebody. Randall felt disgusting, both from the alcohol and the thought of having ever seen Henry as the closest thing he had to a brother at all.

There was some recognition there, as the unmasked gentleman looked at the empty glass in his hand and then promptly placed it on the surface beside him. "What, you think I'm foolish enough to go about something unplanned? That'd make me a damned… fool! A foolish fool of all fools. The Masked Gentleman would be but a court jester to whatever rich kingdom Henry's built up for himself." Randall grabbed the glass again and tipped it to his lips, only for nothing to be there. He looked saddened, but groaned as he sat the empty drink back down again.

"Like, seriously? He had to use my treasure, my riches, just to get this city? He practically owns all of it! This is all some stupid fairy tale that doesn't have a happy ending… For him, at least." Randall snickered and raised a hand to his lips, cooing into his palm. "He'll rue the day the bad guys win. We'll win, and I'll only laugh at him. It's what he deserves, after all. He doesn't deserve my pity, not after what he did to me. He stole everything, and I will do everything to steal it all back." A growl to his words was present as he gave Descole a hard and serious look. "… Even if I have to calm down and stop drinking."

#alcohol tw #alcohol cw #dismalice #| ic ~ randall #| era ~ masked gentleman

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femmmie · 1 year ago

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Day 28 of kinktober 2023: The dress

Ship: arangela

Kink: obsessing over clothing? Idk.

Snippet: Angela smiled. "Come here, you dork," she said and pulled Arasha close.

"Please, not that dress. It's already so distracting when she's in the room..."

Arasha's expression was as composed as always, carefully concealing her inner world. But that world teemed over with deep feelings, most of them surrounding Angela, who just walked into the lunch area of the Smosh office. The dress Angela wore was airy and loose, yet flattering. Then again, she could make anything look good.

"Oh, but to be a gentle breeze, blowing underneath that dress, between your thighs..." Arasha couldn't help but imagine being Zephyrus, god of the West Wind.

"Hey Arash," Angela greeted, her black - second hand - Yeezys complementing the breezy dress. She removed her sunglasses, a deliberate reveal of her beautifully made-up eyes.

"Angie!" Arasha's replied enthusiastically. It was all very fake. Arasha's true feelings: "Oh my god, let me get lost in your eyes forever, let me worship at your feet, let me make you feel like the princess you are and provide for you for the rest of our lives..." What she said, though: "Your makeup is on point, bro."

"Thanks, bruh! This makeup artist course is really beginning to pay off."

"Good for you!"

They high-fived.

Arasha found herself captivated again by Angela's magnetic personality. Angela's laughter was light and infectious. Like a drug, inspiring, or rather demanding Arasha to be at her funniest, just to hear it again. And the entire time, the dress was very present, like it was radiating something to Arasha, weakening her usual defenses. It freaked her out.

Arasha's facade flickered for a rare moment. "Your eyes have never looked better! I mean, they always look good, you always look fine, good, pretty.."

Damn. Arasha couldn't afford to lose her cool like this. Quickly, she put on the pokerface again.

Angela was flattered. "You have a way with words today, girl. It's almost like you're flirting with me."

"Flirting? My stoic ass? Not a chance."

Angela's grin widened. "Stoic? Please. I know you. You have feelings. You just dont want to show them. But i can sense that they're there."

Wow, Angela was good. Too good. Arasha's heartbeat quickened, even as she willed herself to look deadpan into Angela's mesmerizing eyes.

Arasha felt herself being pulled towards Angela. And Angela was moving closer as well. Angela looked even better, smoother, and smelled amazing, from up-close.

Arasha farted. It send the two of them off into hysterics. Their laughter faded into a shared smile as the door creaked open, capturing their attention. Shayne entered with his usual mischievous grin and twinkle in his blue eyes.

"What are you two up to? Scheming?" He asked with a thespian hint in his voice, making both women laugh yet again.

"Naturally. Scheming is our foundation." Arasha was back in the game. This distraction was just what she needed to recollect herself.

Angela chimed in, feigning seriousness. "You caught us, Shayne. Our silly comedic empire is about to rise from the shadows as we overtake Smosh today. Tomorrow, the world!!"

But Shayne wasn't so easily fooled. He observed them and sensed something, a vibe that went beyond banter between his colleagues. "You two, it's like watching a rom-com unfold right before my eyes. The tension, the chemistry, it's all there." Not him too! Arasha was pissed. Apparently, she was not back in the game after all.

Arasha's large, unexpressive eyes widened in mock innocence. "A rom-com, Shayne? You surely jest."

Angela chimed in, her voice teasing. "Yes, Shayne. We're far too complex for such a simplistic genre."

"Alright, have it your way," Shayne said, and decided to leave them alone. He thought about it as he walked away, his blonde brows lightly furrowed. Arangela? Angerasha? Hmm, I'll think of a better one."

"Arasha?"

"Whaddup, bro?"

"Stop it."

"Stop what, bro?"

"You're the worst."

Angela pushed Arasha's shoulder playfully. It felt electrifying to Arasha. How she longed to touch, feel underneath that dress.

"Arasha, listen. Shayne was kinda right. I don't know about you. But I gotta be honest. I think you're hot as fuck."

Angela turned very red.

"Do what you will with that information."

Angela looked at Arasha with that innocent, boyish yet feminine, cute as fuck face of hers. Arasha was dumbstruck. How would she respond to this? Let the pokerface down? Would that scare Angela? What should she do? She just stayed quiet. But she looked desperately at Angela's lips, she couldn't help herself.

"I know you feel something too, Arash, but please, you gotta give me something. Please?"

"Angela," Arasha's voice was different. None of the confidence, none of the humor or sarcasm she usually wore as an armor. Her voice was high-pitched and soft-spoken. "Angela... Ang. Angie, I know, I don't know, I do, I do, I, I think you're so so pretty, and attractive, but you know, I don't want to be a creep or anything."

"A creep? I'd never think you're a creep. Do you think I'm a creep?"

"Oh no! No, never! Well, Angie, okay, alright, where do we go from here?"

They looked at each other.

"I think we could start out with a little kiss?"

"Hmm, yeah, sure, yeah, that's right, why didn't I think of that."

Angela smiled. "Come here, you dork," she said and pulled Arasha close.

Her lips were so soft. Her smell, fresh, soapy, just out of the shower. And her dress chafed gently against Arasha's body. She felt like she would go insane. It only lasted one moment, but it seemed like eternity. Then, Arasha couldn't help it. She had to be a clown. That's just what she was.

"Oh my god, that is one epic fart."

"It sure is."

#arangela #angerasha #kinktober 2023 #fan fiction

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metastarfinancehub · 2 years ago

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Nollywood actress, Angela Eguavoen speaks on acting adult film

Nollywood curvy actress,Angela Eguavoen, has revealed how she once turned down an offer to be cast in an x-rated movie, even after a mind-blowing amount was offered. The thespian narrated how an international producer contacted her and said she has the type of body that would be perfect for an adult film, but she declined because it is against her principles to take up such roles. Angela…

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#Angela Eguavoen

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mrscam776 · 2 years ago

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Angela Evelyn of House Bassett. First of her name. Thespian Arts Titan. Silver Screen Starlet. Iconically Impactful Ingenue. Golden Globe and Gravitas Goddess. Perpetually Poignant and Powerfully Poiseful Performer. Legacy Lifting Leading Lady. Architect of Awe-Inspiring Artistry. Majestic Movie Maven. DevaSTating Delta Diva. We see you, auntie. A whole legend. A queen. A singular career that has left an indelible mark. A body of work that has always been culture-shifting. A winner. We see you. 👑🌺🌼 https://www.instagram.com/p/CpvQ_-fJPk_v67sSQbgXEGgHSdBAjIpvsfEC6A0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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focusmagazine · 1 year ago

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"Purely AI-generated art cannot be copyrighted by US courts"

This is interesting... "Purely AI-generated art cannot be copyrighted by US courts." So does that mean that if you take an AI-generated image and alter it in any way, it can be copyrighted? Any thoughts?

This is interesting… “Purely AI-generated art cannot be copyrighted by US courts.” So does that mean that if you take an AI-generated image and alter it in any way, it can be copyrighted? Any thoughts?

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#AI-generated art #angela thespian #FOCUS events #FOCUS Gallery #FOCUS Magazine #Just for FUN #Photo contest #photography #second life #secondlife #SL #SL photography

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caramelcuniculus · 9 months ago

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Descole's claim of pitiful-ness made Randall make a sad yet offended-sounding noise. "Not pitiful-rational! This is a rather fine way to bond if I do say so myself." And it eliminated the cuddling fiasco that she seemed so wholly against. This worked; the thespian was just making a big deal out of this. Yeah, she was doing it! He hadn't done a single thing wrong, and this worked everything out! The inner turmoil was enough to make the drunken Ascot whine again.

With his turn and less-than-elegant stumble, Randall shot up to sit straight on the bed. He was afraid he would collapse before getting over to the television. He was fine, and Randall sighed in relief. "Thank youuu…" He dragged out playfully, waving one of his hands as to give a modest gesture. It almost looked like he was waving her back over. The absolute nerve! But he was too drunk to care at that point.

It wasn't a surprise to either of them that Randall had little to no experiences with television. Due to the nature of Craggy Dale's secluded nature, no one had any to watch from. Given the fact that his life in Craggy Dale was the most recent and least foggy, the television and most of Monte d'Or's technological advances were alien to him. Had he made use of them through the Masked Gentleman's schemes? Of course he had. However, none of that would prove possible without Descole here. He wouldn't even be getting his revenge on Henry or anyone else for that matter. All thanks to the thespian that was acting odd and snotty with him at the moment… How rude of them!

Randall had seen how the television worked a few times now; he'd tested it out for himself with curiosity getting the better of him. He had his share of fun with it, until either Descole or some inconvenience came his way to make him turn it off. He'd been especially busy busy as of late too, considering the appearances of the Masked Gentleman mandating first priority. He wouldn't be here and have access to the telly at all if the Masked Gentleman didn't exist. He should be grateful, and even more so with how Descole was going to assist him getting back everything that was his, but these small moments… he liked. Randall Ascot wanted to like them, anyways. At the very least the thespian returned to his side. Not fully, as far away as she could manage, but she was still there.

Be it the alcohol or something else, but he felt warm and happy with the little he was getting.

Descole explained the small details well enough for the drunken Ascot to grasp the television scene. The Widower… Randall couldn't help but think of Angela, how she was left one all those years ago. That would change very soon, and then would come the tale of a widow's love returning to her and discarding the deadly title. The unmasked gentleman snickered quietly, but then found himself fixed on the events Descole finished describing. It looked so real… save for the flaws in the modern-day technology. His eyes were fully captured by the moving picture. It only took a forceful, self-induced head shake to snap him out of his television trance.

"What… did he put in? I didn't see. Could you tell me?" Randall sounded fully engrossed with the program, with wonder tingling in his words. He only looked at Descole for a few moments before returning to the telly. "Pretty please this time?"

Descole stares at Randall with a mixture of horror and secondhand embarrassment. Go up?! She doesn't want to think about that!! She openly flinches when Randall reaches out toward her, somewhat relieved to find that he isn't actually trying to grab her. She doesn't know what she might have done if he'd gone that far. Perhaps she should remind him that she's armed.

"Hmph. You're being pitiful," Descole huffs, unable to fully contain their disdain any longer. Honestly, does Randall want revenge or a childminder? She leans--or, more accurately, looms--over them, their usual confident aura significantly marred by their inebriated state. Ironically, given their remarks about Randall's potential death-by-stomach-contents, they are the one who looks like they might vomit, though not for any physical reason. Randall's bold attempts to show him affection are enraging, but something about that desire tugs on his drunken heartstrings in a way that makes him ill. There's another place, another time, another person that this situation invokes within his memory.

They turn away from Randall quickly enough to make themself dizzy. After taking a moment to stabilize their gait, they make their way over to the TV set and turn it on. They're immediately met with a familiar sight. It seems they can get ITV here. Good. As is to be expected of the modern Monte d'Or. At least they won't have to go channel surfing. Their tolerance for frustration is reaching its limits.

"Armchair Theatre," Descole declares vaguely, pointing at the little television set as if this action will have any clarifying effect for Randall. Theatre for the common man. Something she both appreciates and resents. Fitting. She stands, still somewhat shaky, and returns to the bedside where she reluctantly seats herself at the very edge of the mattress opposite Randall's position. Why?

"I've seen this one, "The Widower." Somewhat applicable to our circumstances here. Full of love and betrayal and terrible character decisions. We've only just missed the beginning. They're leaving Café Des Deux Chats. That man has just slipped something suspicious into the young lady's bag., and now he's on his way home. I trust you can follow the rest as it unfolds?" Surely Randall isn't the sort of person to talk over the television and ask inane questions the entire time, right? Right?

#alcohol cw #alcohol tw #dismalice #| ic ~ randall #| era ~ masked gentleman #holy shit that commitment...... applauds u #maybe ill have to go watch it sometime too #when im not the busiest person ever

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performerstuff · 5 years ago

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#theatre #thespians #angela merkel #theatreproblems #theatrememes #actorslife #actorproblems #performerstuff

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beemusik · 3 years ago

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How David Bowie Invented Ziggy Stardust

Jason Heller’s book Strange Stars: David Bowie, Pop Music, and the Decade Sci-Fi Exploded is the story of how science fiction influenced the musicians of the Seventies. Out now in hardcover via Melville House, Strange Stars also examines how space exploration, futurism and emerging technology inspired the sometimes-cosmic, sometimes-mechanistic music the decade produced. In this section, Heller delves into the creation of Bowie’s most-famous alter ego, Ziggy Stardust.

A small crowd of sixty or so music fans stood in the dance hall of the Toby Jug pub in Tolworth, a suburban neighborhood in southwest London, on the night of February 10, 1972. The backs of their hands had been freshly stamped by the doorman. A DJ played records to warm up the crowd for the main act. The hall was nothing fancy, little more than “an ordinary function room.” The two-story brick building that housed it – “a gaunt fortress of a pub on the edge of an underpass” – had played host to numerous rock acts over the past few years, including Led Zeppelin, Jethro Tull, and Fleetwood Mac. Sci-fi music had even graced the otherwise earthy Toby Jug, thanks to recent headliners King Crimson and Hawkwind, and exactly one week earlier, on February 3, the band Stray performed, quite likely playing their sci-fi song “Time Machine.” The concertgoers on the tenth, however, had no idea that they would soon witness the most crucial event in the history of sci-fi music.

Most of them already knew who David Bowie was – the singer who, three years earlier, had sung “Space Oddity,” and who had appeared very seldom in public since, focusing instead on making records that barely dented the charts. His relatively low profile in recent years hadn’t helped his latest single, “Changes,” which had come out in January. Despite its soaring, anthemic sound, it failed to find immediate success in England. But the lyrics of the song seemed to signal an impending metamorphosis, hinted at again in late January when Bowie declared in a Melody Makerinterview, “I’m gay and always have been” and unabashedly predicted, “I’m going to be huge, and it’s quite frightening in a way.” Bowie clearly had a big plan up his immaculately tailored sleeve. But what could it be?

Before Bowie took the stage of the Toby Jug, an orchestral crescendo announced him. It was a recording of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, drawn from the soundtrack to A Clockwork Orange. To anyone who’d seen the film, the music carried a sinister feeling, superimposed as it was over Kubrick’s visions of grim dystopia and ultraviolence. Grandiloquence mixed with foreboding, shot through with sci-fi: it couldn’t have been a better backdrop for what the pint-clutching attendees of the Toby Jug were about to behold.

At around 9:00 p.m., the houselights were extinguished. A spotlight sliced the darkness. Bowie took the stage. But was it really him? In a strictly physical sense, it must have been. But this was Bowie as no one had seen him before. His hair – which appeared blond and flowing on the cover of Hunky Dory, released just three months earlier – was now chopped at severe angles and dyed bright orange, the color of a B-movie laser beam. His face was lavishly slathered with cosmetics. He wore a jumpsuit with a plunging neckline, revealing his delicate, bone-pale chest, and his knee-high wrestling boots were fire-engine red. Bowie had never been conservative in dress, but even for him, this was a quantum leap into the unknown.

Then he began to play. His band – dubbed the Spiders from Mars and comprising guitarist Mick Ronson, bassist Trevor Bolder, and drummer Woody Woodmansey – was lean, efficient, and powerful, clad in gleaming, metallic outfits that mimicked spacesuits, reminiscent of the costumes from the campy 1968 sci-fi romp Barbarella. The Jane Fonda vehicle had been a huge hit in England, and it became a cult film in the United States, thanks to its titillating portrayal of a future where sensuality is rediscovered after a lifetime of sterile, virtual sex.

In the same way, Bowie’s new incarnation was shocking, lurid, and supercharged with sexual energy. Combined with his recent admission of either homosexuality or bisexuality, as he was then married to his first wife, Angela, Bowie’s new persona oozed futuristic mystique, which Bowie biographer David Buckley described as “a blurring of ‘found’ symbols from science fiction – space-age high heels, glitter suits, and the like.”

But what bewitched the audience most was the music. Amid a set of established songs such as “Andy Warhol,” “Wild Eyed Boy from Freecloud,” and, naturally, “Space Oddity,” the Spiders from Mars injected a handful of new tunes, including “Hang On to Yourself” and “Suffragette City,” that had yet to appear on record. Propulsive, infectious, and awash in dizzying imagery, this was a new Bowie – cut less from the thoughtful, singer-songwriter mold and more from some new hybrid of thespian rocker and sci-fi myth. These songs bounced off the walls of the Toby Jug’s no-longer-ordinary function room. The audience, whistling and cheering, was entranced. A show eye-popping enough to dazzle an entire arena was being glimpsed in the most intimate of watering holes.

Although the crowd was sparse, people stood on tables and chairs to get the best possible view. The stage was only two feet high, but it may as well have been twenty, or two million – an elevator to outer space designed to launch Bowie into an orbit far more enduring than that of Major Tom in “Space Oddity.”

At some point, amid the swirl and spectacle of the two-hour set, Bowie announced from the stage the name of his new identity: Ziggy Stardust.

Like an artifact from some alien civilization, Bowie’s fifth album, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, was unveiled on June 16, 1972. By then, Ziggy had become a sensation. After the Toby Jug gig in February, concertgoers embraced Bowie’s new persona in music venues around the UK. Attendance swelled each night, as did a growing legion of followers who dressed themselves in homemade approximations of Bowie’s outlandish attire.

Just as the album was released, he and the Spiders appeared on the BBC’s revered Top of the Popsprogram, performing the record’s centerpiece: the song “Starman.” For many of a certain age, watching Bowie on their family’s television that evening was tantamount to the Beatles’ legendary spot on The Ed Sullivan Show in the United States eight years earlier. “He was so vivid. So luminous. So fluorescent. We had one of the first color TVs on our street, and David Bowie was the reason to have a color TV,” remembered Bono of U2, who was twelve at the time. “It was like a creature falling from the sky. Americans put a man on the moon. We had our own British guy from space.”

Musically, “Starman” was an exquisite and striking slice of pop songcraft, exactly what Bowie needed at that point in his career. Lyrically, he smuggled in a sci-fi story that centers around Ziggy Stardust, who was both Bowie’s alter ego and the fictional protagonist of the Rise and Fall concept album, as loose as it was in that regard – it is more a fugue of ideas that coalesce into a concept. Through the radio and TV, an alien announces his existence to Earth, which Bowie describes in lovingly rendered sci-fi verse: “A slow voice on a wave of phase.” The young people of the world become enchanted and hope to lure the alien down: “Look out your window, you can see his light /If we can sparkle, he may land tonight.” But that alien is reticent, and his shyness makes him all the more magnetic.

Bowie sang the song on Top of the Pops clad in a multicolored, reptilian-textured jumpsuit, which Melody Maker called, “Vogue’s idea of what the well-dressed astronaut should be wearing.” In that sense, “Starman” is a self-fulfilling prophecy: before he could truly know the impact the song would have, he used it to describe its effect on Great Britain’s young people in perfect detail. He was the starman waiting in the sky, and the kids who saw him on TV soon began to dress like him, hoping to sparkle so that he may land tonight.

If Bowie intended “Starman” to be an overt reference to [Robert A.] Heinlein’s Starman Jones, the book he loved as a kid, he never publicly confessed to it. But the admittedly sketchy story line of Rise and Fall parallels another Heinlein work: Stranger in a Strange Land, the novel that had influenced David Crosby in the ’60s and, later, many other sci-fi musicians of the ’70s. The book’s hero,Valentine Michael Smith, comes to Earth from Mars; in Rise and Fall, Mars is built into the title. And both Valentine and Ziggy become messiahs of a kind – androgynous, libertine heralds of a new age of human awareness. Bowie claimed he’d turned down offers to star in a film production of Stranger in a Strange Land and had few positive words to say about the book, calling it “staggeringly, awesomely trite.” Be that as it may, he clearly had read the book and developed a strong opinion of it – perhaps enough for some of its themes and iconography to seep into his own work.

The opening song of Rise and Fall, “Five Years,” elegiacally delivers a dystopian forecast: the world will end in five years due to a lack of resources, and society is disintegrating into a slow-motion parade of perversity and moral paralysis. It’s a countdown to doomsday, with the clock set at five years. The song’s ominous refrain, “We’ve got five years,” is sung by Bowie with increasing histrionics, his voice sounding more panicked and deranged as he repeats the phrase. “The whole thing was to try and get a mocking angle at the future,” Bowie said in 1972. “If I can mock something and deride it, one isn’t so scared of it” – with “it” being the apocalypse.

“Five Years” set a chilling tone, but Rise and Fall didn’t entirely wallow in it. The coming of an alien rock star named Ziggy Stardust is relayed in a multi-song story that’s equally melancholy and ecstatic, tragic and triumphant. On tracks such as “Moonage Daydream,” “Star,” and “Lady Stardust,” Bowie wields terms such as “ray gun” and “wild mutation.” He also claims, “I’m the space invader,” as though he were channeling the ideas of his sci-fi heroes Stanley Kubrick or William S. Burroughs, particularly the latter’s 1971 novel, The Wild Boys.

As Bowie explained, “It was a cross between [The Wild Boys] and A Clockwork Orange that really started to put together the shape and the look of what Ziggy and the Spiders were going to become. They were both powerful pieces of work, especially the marauding boy gangs of Burroughs’s Wild Boys with their bowie knives. I got straight on to that. I read everything into everything. Everything had to be infinitely symbolic.” The photos of the Spiders from Mars inside the album sleeve of Rise and Fall were even patterned after the gang of Droogs of A Clockwork Orange; Droogs are mentioned by name in the Rise and Fall song “Suffragette City.” Furthermore, Bowie posed on theback cover of the album, peering out of a phone booth – just as though he were that other cryptic British alien who regularly regenerates himself and is often seen in a phone booth (specifically a police call box), the Doctor from Doctor Who.

Bowie also drew from work of the Legendary Stardust Cowboy. Born Norman Carl Odam, the Texan rockabilly artist released a twangy, oddball 1968 single titled “I Took a Trip (On a Gemini Spaceship)” that Bowie wound up covering in 2002; it was from Odam that Bowie borrowed Ziggy’s surname. And after going on a record-buying spree while touring the United States in 1971, he bought Fun House by the Michigan proto-punk band the Stooges, whose outrageous lead singer was named Iggy Pop. He jotted down ideas on hotel stationary while traveling the States, resulting in a name that was a mash-up of Iggy Pop and the Legendary Stardust Cowboy. Ziggy Stardust was a fabricated rock star, one whose sleek facade flew in the face of the era’s reigning rock aesthetic of laid-back, unpretentious authenticity. Instead, Bowie wanted to puncture that illusion by taking rock showmanship to a previously unseen, self-referential extreme.

When it came to Bowie’s urge toward collage and deconstruction, Burroughs remained a prime inspiration. A pioneer of postmodern sci-fi pastiche as well as the literary cut-up technique, in which snippets of text were randomly rearranged to form a new syntax, Burroughs straddled both pulp sci-fi and the avant-garde, exactly the same liminal space Bowie now occupied. Rock critic Lester Bangs accused Bowie of “trying to be George Orwell and William Burroughs” while dismissing him as appearing to be “deposited onstage after seemingly being dipped in vats of green slime and pursued by Venusian crab boys” – a description that sounded like it could have been cribbed straight from a Burroughs book.

In 1973, Burroughs met Bowie in the latter’s London home. The meeting was arranged by A. Craig Copetas from Rolling Stone, and the resulting exchange was published in the magazine a few months later. In the article, Copetas observed that Bowie’s house was “decorated in a science-fiction mode,” and that Bowie greeted them “wearing three-tone NASA jodhpurs.” The ensuing conversation ranged across many topics, but it circled around science fiction – and in particular, the similarity Bowie saw between Rise and Fall and Burroughs’s 1964 novel Nova Express, a surreal sci-fi parable about mind control and the tyranny of language.

In an effort to convince Burroughs of the similarity, Bowie offered one of the most revealing analyses of Rise and Fall as a work of science fiction:

“The time is five years to go before the end of the Earth. It has been announced that the world will end because of a lack of natural resources. Ziggy is in a position where all the kids have access to things that they thought they wanted. The older people have all lost touch with reality, and the kids are left on their own to plunder anything. Ziggy was in a rock & roll band, and the kids no longer wanted to play rock & roll. There’s no electricity to play it.”

Bowie went on:

“[The environmental apocalypse] does not cause the end of the world for Ziggy. The end comes when the infinites arrive. They really are a black hole, but I’ve made them people because it would be very hard to explain a black hole onstage.”

Curiously, it took him another twenty-six years before casually revealing in an interview that a sci-fi song called “Black Hole Kids” was recorded as an outtake during the sessions for Rise and Fall. He called the song “fabulous,” adding, “I have no idea why it wasn’t on the original album. Maybe I forgot.”

But Bowie dropped the biggest revelation about Rise and Fallin the 1973 conversation with Burroughs. Ziggy Stardust, according to his creator, is not an alien himself; instead, he’s an earthling who makes contact with extra-dimensional beings, who then use him as a charismatic vessel for their own nefarious invasion plan. But like Frankenstein’s monster being erroneously called “Frankenstein” to the point where it seems senseless to quibble with that usage, Ziggy Stardust continues to be widely considered the alien entity of Rise and Fall. Considering the shifting identity and gender of Bowie’s most famous alter ego, that ambiguity may well have been his intention. Talking to Burroughs, he ultimately labels Rise and Fall “a science-fiction fantasy of today” before reiterating its similarity to Nova Express, to which Burroughs responds, “The parallels are definitely there.”

Rise and Fall has always been as fluid as Bowie’s facade itself. Michael Moorcock’s Eternal Champion cast a shadow over Ziggy Stardust, especially the glammy incarnation of the many-faced character known as Jerry Cornelius – who was adapted to the big screen in 1973 for the feature film The Final Programme. It coincided with Ziggy’s own ascendency, not to mention the New Wave of Science Fiction and its preference for fractured narratives and multiple interpretations over linear stories and pat endings.

During their mutual interview, Burroughs brought up the then-current rumor that Bowie might play Valentine Michael Smith in a film adaptation of Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land. Bowie again dismissed it. “It seemed a bit too flower-powery, and that made me a bit wary.” For his part, Bowie’s fellow sci-fi musician Mick Farren of the Deviants later admitted he always thought Michael Valentine Smith was a major influence on Ziggy Stardust. “I was certain someone would call him out for plagiarism,” Farren said. “Nobody did.”

Bowie may have denied his affinity for Stranger in a Strange Land by his boyhood go-to author Heinlein, but he was not shy about professing his love for one of the authors Lester Bangs compared him to: George Orwell. Almost as a footnote, Bowie told Burroughs, “Now I’m doing Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four on television.” That project would never come to pass, but it would lay the groundwork for his next, less famous sci-fi concept album – a jagged, atmospheric song cycle that plunged Bowie into the darkest extremes of dystopia.

#David Bowie #Ziggy Stardust #article

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