Interestingly, however, the version on David Live of ‘Space Oddity’ features a strikingly original piano part, improvised here by Garson in what amounts to the opposite process. He had not played a piano part on the original recording. At the time Space Oddity was recorded he was in the army, playing in a military band, and stationed at Fort Wadsworth, Staten Island. So in this case there was nothing to imitate or reproduce, and as a result his playing on ‘Space Oddity’ for David Live was more fresh and spontaneous.
The Diamond Dogs tour travelled from the East Coast to the West Coast as one band (including the recording of David Live) and came back from the West Coast to the East Coast with different personnel, the infusion of more of a soul feel, the previewing of songs from the next album, Young Americans – and with Mike Garson at the helm as musical director, for what was now the Soul tour or ‘Philly Dogs’ tour. The new band members included drummer Dennis Davis, guitarist Carlos Alomar and bassist George Murray. Davis had studied at one point with Elvin Jones, who played such a key role in Garson’s story. Garson recalls Davis’ drumming on the Soul tour, saying that ‘his feel was unbelievable and his groove unstoppable!’
As backing for the ‘Philly Dogs’/Soul tour, The Garson Band was formed, incorporating several soul singers (including a certain young vocalist named Luther Vandross) to play a support slot throughout the tour, as well as to back Bowie. In addition to Luther Vandross, the forty-minute support set featured Ava Cherry, who would perform Bowie’s ‘Memory of a Free Festival’, and others. The Garson Band was a great seven-piece ‘Soul Train’-type band in its own right, with Dave Sanborn on sax. Then Bowie would come on stage and Garson’s band would remain on to play for him too.
In each support slot on the tour, Vandross sang his song ‘Funky Music’ which had been adapted by Bowie as ‘Fascination’ for the Young Americans album. There were also some Garson-penned songs, as well as the jazz number ‘Moody’s Mood for Love’, which had been made famous in England by American jazz singer King Pleasure in 1954. Another vocalist with The Garson Band was Bowie’s old friend Geoff MacCormack, otherwise known as Warren Peace (punning the Tolstoy novel), who had co-written ‘Rock ’n’ Roll with Me’ with Bowie for the Diamond Dogs album.
Some of the audiences, however, were impatient for Bowie to take the stage and Garson even recalls a raw egg being thrown during their set at the Spectrum in Philadelphia, where there was a white carpet on stage. Why would so-called fans go to concerts having made a point of procuring such ammunition in advance? Garson suggests in reply, ‘Well, probably in case they didn’t like it,’ which sums up all one really needs to know about such people. It narrowly missed both Garson and Luther Vandross, and splattered on to the piano and mic. Garson is clear in his analysis of this:
We started to think, uh-oh, we’d better finish the set fast! They were screaming ‘Bowie!’ even whilst we were playing. The audience wasn’t particularly a black audience – Luther was a black guy doing soul music, and people were coming to see Bowie, with his two different eyes and colours…
Some of the singers who were part of the 1974 Garson Band had come together the previous year in a side project known as the Astronettes, with some writing input from Garson. There are some fascinating rehearsal recordings available online, also made at Olympic Studios in 1973 and featuring vocals from Ava Cherry, Geoff MacCormack and Jason Guess, with Garson on piano (with some great Latin jazz touches), Herbie Flowers on bass, Aynsley Dunbar on drums, Mark Pritchard on guitar and finally some backing vocals (and sotto voce musical direction) from David Bowie. An album of tracks from the Astronettes sessions was finally released in 1993, though without most of Bowie’s input.
The tour ended on 1 December 1974 and the Young Americans album was released on 7 March 1975. Bowie went on to star in Nic Roeg’s film The Man Who Fell to Earth and split from Defries, whilst Garson returned to the relative anonymity of playing jazz for the next several years. There was a short-lived attempt to keep the Spiders From Mars band going as a separate entity in the mid-1970s with a 1976 album release of the same name by Trevor Bolder and Woody Woodmansey, with guitar by Dave Black and vocals from Pete McDonald. Garson was brought in to play piano on some tracks but Ronson did not participate, and that project was not pursued beyond the one album.
Some forty years after his solo piano interpretation of Bowie songs on stage at the 1973 Hammersmith Odeon show as a support act, Garson released an album of Bowie songs reinterpreted by him for solo piano, for which that early performance can be seen as an eerily distant antecedent. That later collection is a subtle and sensitive tribute to the man whom he has accompanied so often during the intervening years, and with whom he shares a true artist’s approach to musical creation, in which authenticity and sincerity are twin pillars of all expression.
There were later occasions on which Bowie asked Garson to go on before him and the rest of the band, to play some solo piano in order to warm up the audience or to heighten the theatrical suspense prior to Bowie’s own entrance and the start of the show. It is most likely, given Bowie’s genius for the fine-tuning of stagecraft, with nothing left to chance and the whole experience choreographed in advance, that such moves were part of his design. From Garson’s point of view, however, it appeared spontaneous and dependent upon the whim of whether Bowie felt ready to go on stage yet, and Garson had to use his rich repertoire and canny ear to take to the piano keys quickly and appease an often impatient crowd awaiting Bowie’s arrival on stage.
At the 27 June 2000 show at the BBC Radio Theatre at Broadcasting House in London (filmed and included as a bonus third disc with early copies of the 26 September 2000 CD package release, Bowie at the Beeb), he asked Garson to go on first and play some solo piano for a few minutes, and suggested that since they were in London perhaps he might play Gershwin’s ‘A Foggy Day (in London Town)’, which he accordingly did.
Perhaps the most extraordinary example of this, however, had been a couple of days before at Bowie’s return to Glastonbury on 25 June 2000 for the first time since 1971. Willie Nelson had just come off the main stage and Bowie and his band (Sterling Campbell, Gail Ann Dorsey, Earl Slick, Mark Plati, Holly Palmer, Emm Gryner and Mike Garson) were getting ready to start their show. Once again Bowie asked Garson to go on first and play some solo piano. This time, for the audience of about 100,000, he played a jazz arrangement of ‘Greensleeves’, a traditional English folk song dating from 1580, perhaps chosen to reflect the pastoral English setting of the Glastonbury festival at Pilton in Somerset. As Garson played, the band took to the stage one by one and the atmosphere was electric. It worked perfectly as a device to build the momentum of Bowie’s final stroll on to centre stage. The huge screen monitors above the stage meanwhile showed some great views of Garson playing the band on to the stage, using the anachronistic and odd combination of old English folk and post-war American jazz to instil a theatricality and air of expectation into this field of a hundred thousand fans, eager to hear their idol’s first song. The contrast between the slightly baroque and brittle, syncopated swirl of piano and the far more modernist power of the rock band about to play could not have been better adjusted, as the familiar bassline of Bowie’s opening song, ‘Wild is the Wind’ (also from an earlier era, originally recorded by Johnny Mathis in 1957) took over smoothly from Garson’s nostalgic prelude. It was quite fitting that straight after the third song of the set, the piano-led ‘Changes’, Garson was the first band member that night to be specifically namechecked by Bowie.
Mick Ronson (26 May 1946 – 29 April 1993), who with Bowie had auditioned Garson for his initial contract of eight weeks’ touring across the States, formed a strong bond with him. Garson says now, ‘Oh, we loved each other. Mick was as warm as they come.’ Garson had been speaking about moving to Los Angeles to become a full-time session musician, but Ronson warned against this, saying, ‘You will become white toast!’ meaning that he would become a run-of-the-mill, good solid piano-player, but would lose his
magic and his style through having to adapt to the needs of a never-ending sequence of other artists. Ronson urged Garson, ‘Do your own music!’ and he has valued that advice to this day, doing recording sessions but not all the time, and always being aware of the need to cultivate his own musical expression. He recalls also the boredom of some of that work. He once had to record the piano part for a television movie of the week and had to wait through over a hundred bars of tacet on the piano score. At some point during this time, he says, he fell sound asleep.
Of course, those people never called me back, because it’s an insult to them. But the music was so boring that I did them a favour by falling asleep!
Garson worked closely with Ronson on the Bowie albums Aladdin Sane and Pin Ups. They both played on Bowie’s 1993 Black Tie White Noise, though on two different songs. Garson also played, however, on Ronson’s first two solo albums, Slaughter on 10th Avenue (1974) and Play Don’t Worry (1975). Ronson was a hugely multi-talented musician. In addition to his supremely able and distinctive lead guitar sound (in 1974 he beat Eric Clapton in the greatest guitarists poll in Creem magazine, coming second only to Jimmy Page), he was also a brilliant and largely self-taught string arranger, as well as a producer, vocalist and pianist. It was Ronson who contributed the beautiful piano playing as well as the guitar on the acclaimed ‘Perfect Day’ recording by Lou Reed for his 1972 Transformer album, which Ronson and Bowie had produced. His wife, Suzi Fussey Ronson, daughter, Lisa Ronson and sister, Maggi Ronson have all worked hard to keep alive the legacy of this extraordinary force within modern music since his death in 1993.
Ronson played violin as a child and took some piano lessons from Trevor Bolder’s grandmother. When he started doing string arrangements for Bowie, he took some theory lessons from his sister Maggi’s piano teacher, Mrs White, but he clearly had an amazing flair for it and mainly taught himself from reference books and by listening to a lot of music. The beautiful string arrangement on ‘Life on Mars?’ was the very first he had done. Maggi was just a teenager when her brother introduced her to Garson and she says now:
When I first met Mike, I thought, if there’s anybody who looked like Jesus on earth, it would have been Mike Garson. He had beautiful eyes and a very kind face, and came over as such a lovely person. I saw him again when he was on Bowie’s Reality tour in 2003. In 2013 he kindly contributed his beautiful piano playing to ‘This is for You’ on my Sweet Dreamer album, which was a tribute to my brother Michael. I have always had a lot of love and respect for Mike Garson, the man as well as the musician.
The record we have on those few albums of Garson playing with Ronson all show a powerful rapport in which their ability to converse musically draws the listener inexorably into the music. This is especially apparent on ‘Time’ and ‘Lady Grinning Soul’ from David Bowie’s Aladdin Sane album, but it can also be heard on Ronson’s cover of Annette Peacock’s ‘I’m the One’12 on Slaughter on 10th Avenue and on his beautiful rendition of ‘This is for You’ on Play Don’t Worry, a song which was written by ex-New Seekers member Laurie Heath of the band Milkwood, with whom Ronson had done some work as an arranger. That album also carries Ronson singing Lou Reed’s ‘White Light/White Heat’ with a backing which had been recorded as part of the Pin Ups sessions, and includes a Garson piano part bursting with energy and reminiscent of his performance for the version of ‘Let’s Spend the Night Together’ on Aladdin Sane. In addition to recording together, from February to April 1974 Garson also went on the UK Slaughter on 10th Avenue UK tour with Ronson, with Trevor Bolder on bass and Ritchie Dharma on drums.
Suzi Fussey Ronson was very helpful and spoke to me about her recollections from that period. Before she was married to Ronson, she was on the American Ziggy Stardust tour as the band’s stylist, Bowie’s personal hairdresser and head of wardrobe, and she says that Mike Garson’s playing was always stunning and that he was likeable despite being more reserved than many on the tour. As a married man he shunned the party lifestyle adopted by most of those involved: ‘He wasn’t remotely “rock and roll”, you couldn’t imagine him getting his hair spiked or anything like that… though he was quite willing to get into the make-up!’
She recalls that Garson’s addition to the band was greeted with relief by Ronson, who until then had sometimes doubled up on piano. This allowed him to be more free to focus totally on his performance as guitarist, knowing that the piano parts were in such capable hands. By the time that Garson was recording with Mick Ronson on his solo albums a couple of years later, Suzi and Mick were married. She would see him at their recording sessions and was aware of Garson and Ronson’s continuing bond and special musical rapport. She confirms that ‘Mick had the greatest of respect for Mike’, and Garson confirms that this was mutual, speaking with great affection for Ronson and calling him ‘such a gentle and humble soul’.
The producer of the Young Americans album released in March 1975 was Tony Visconti. The music Visconti has produced reads, for many who grew up through those years, as the soundtrack to our lives. From 1968 to the present day he has produced classic and definitive recordings by T. Rex, David Bowie, Sparks, Iggy Pop, Thin Lizzy, The Stranglers, Kristeen Young, Kaiser Chiefs, Morrissey and many others, as well as being celebrated for his string arrangements and his own musicianship on bass guitar. His lexicon of modern music has helped to create and form the sound not just of a generation but now two or three generations. It is against this backdrop that his judgement deserves to be respected and weighted. Visconti, like Garson, came from Brooklyn. He mixed the Diamond Dogs album on which Garson played, and produced three further albums which included Garson’s piano: David Live, Young Americans and Reality. He tells me that his initial impressions of Garson were positive:
He was very likable. The Young Americans sessions were smooth, energetic and a lot of that was due to Mike’s fantastic playing. I found Mike easy to work with on one level, as he is obviously a virtuoso. But his jazz background gave him the authority to declare, ‘I never play the same thing twice.’ That could be frustrating back in the days before Pro Tools. If David and I referred back to something Mike played an hour earlier, he wouldn’t remember unless it was recorded. In the 1970s that was a problem if we only had one or two tracks left on the tape for piano. But David could coach Mike really well. I loved watching the two of them together. Mike could play anything David would throw at him, and I think he really enjoyed how David could corral him in slightly to get some of the great iconic moments of Mike on tape! I knew all about his avant-garde style and I loved it, but when he came to Philly to record the Young Americans album I was surprised how funky and soulful he could play. That must be the Brooklyn Boy in him. ‘It’s Gonna Be Me’ sounds like Mike was raised in Harlem. That’s got to be one of my favourite tracks we worked on together. When I wrote the string parts I picked up some of the phrases he improvised, and doubled and harmonised them so it sounded like it was all prearranged.
Visconti attributes Garson’s distinctive quality as a pianist to his sheer depth of musical understanding as well as his broad experience. Although he only worked with him on those few Bowie albums, he is aware of his other work, and loves his jazz stylings. But, he says, ‘if I were to ask him to include Bartók voicings in a session, his fingers would go there in a heartbeat. He seems to understand every music genre as a Zen master. It’s all music to Mike…’ He believes that Garson’s playing has developed and improved over the years. In 2003 they worked together again on the Reality album, and Visconti recalls how they created Garson’s piano part for ‘Bring Me the Disco King’:
When I was recording Reality with Mike he introduced us to his new technical set-up at home, where he has a MIDI grand piano surrounded by six to eight microphones. In New York he played piano on one song [‘Bring Me the Disco King’] on a cheesy Yamaha keyboard and we did a lot of punch-ins to get a killer performance and we also recorded the MIDI performances too. We loved it, even with the limited sound that keyboard could make.
But Mike took the MIDI files back to California and a week later sent us the same performance reproduced on his MIDI grand13. It sounded lovely, really round and hi fi, but by then we had added more instruments and we were too much in love with the cheesy sound… next time, Mike! I think he’s adapted very well to modern times. He can whip up lots of alternate performances in his home and send the digital files to Mongolia, if need be. He does a lot of remote recording now. But I would still prefer to be in the same room with him when he records. It’s just such a treat to hear him play live.
Like most of those who worked with him, Visconti was unaware that Garson had never been a drinker or a drug user, unlike so many on the music scene. Garson simply never felt the need, and because he therefore did not feel compromised or deprived by this, he remained cheerful and sociable even if those around him were indeed drinking. Visconti found him to be ‘sociable, but a little reserved. So am I, but in the studio he is very present and sociable… upbeat in a studio context, a great team person.’ He does recall being loaned by Garson a book on the history of tempered tuning, which he read and returned, and they had ‘many conversations about the dark history of tempering on our lunch breaks’.14
How has Garson’s playing contributed to the overall content and impact of those Bowie albums and tours on which he played? There can be few people better qualified to assess this than Tony Visconti, and his description of this is a beautifully expressed testament to the artistic creativity of both Garson and Bowie. He explains how it is that, with the right chemistry, everything comes together with such unpredictably stunning results. His summary also unwittingly demonstrates how his own genius as producer and facilitator was a key part of this equilibrium.
Bowie's Piano Man - The Biography of Mike Garson Page 5
