David Bowie’s relaÂtionÂship with AmerÂiÂca has typÂiÂfied the outsider’s view: an ambivaÂlence rangÂing from fasÂciÂnaÂtion to fear that he expressed in a reply to his first letÂter from a U.S. fan in 1967 (click to read in large forÂmat). The fan, intreÂpid 14-year-old SanÂdra Dodd, had gotÂten her hands on an advance copy of Bowie’s first album and writÂten him to praise his work and offer to start a fan club for him stateÂside. Bowie’s response is very interÂestÂing. We’ve writÂten before about his rise from obscure R&B and folk singer to ZigÂgy StarÂdust, which required him to shake off a natÂurÂal shyÂness to inhabÂit his breakÂout perÂsona. In the letÂter, the 20-year-old Bowie iniÂtialÂly comes off as a naĂŻve, slightÂly self-involved young pop singer. Then, after answerÂing the usuÂal fan queries—what’s his real name, birthÂday, height—he turns to the subÂject of the U.S., a counÂtry he had yet to visÂit. Bowie writes:
I hope one day to get to AmerÂiÂca. My manÂagÂer tells me lots about it as he has been there many times with othÂer acts he manÂages. I was watchÂing an old film on TV the othÂer night called “No Down PayÂment” a great film, but rather depressÂing if it is a true reflecÂtion of The AmerÂiÂcan Way Of Life. HowÂevÂer, shortÂly after that they showed a docÂuÂmenÂtary about Robert Frost the AmerÂiÂcan poet, filmed mainÂly at his home in VerÂmont, and that evened the score. I am sure that that is nearÂer the real AmerÂiÂca.
DrawÂing his impresÂsions from movies, Bowie refÂerÂences two views. The first, MarÂtin Ritt’s 1957 No Down PayÂment, is full of the banalÂiÂty and meloÂdraÂma we’ve come to expect from Mad Men, makÂing inciÂsive criÂtiques of mid-50s culÂturÂal probÂlems simÂmerÂing under the surÂface of the subÂurbs like alcoÂholism, racism, and infiÂdeliÂty. As one fan writes, the film depictÂed what “no one wantÂed to see… a soiled AmerÂiÂcan Dream,” or what Bowie capÂiÂtalÂizes as “The AmerÂiÂcan Way Of Life.”
The othÂer view Bowie takes of the States comes from a film on Robert Frost—most likeÂly 1963’s Robert Frost: A Lover’s QuarÂrel With the World. LitÂtle wonÂder this film “evened the score” for the lyriÂcal young songÂwriter, who choosÂes in his letÂter to believe it repÂreÂsents the “real AmerÂiÂca,” a senÂtiÂment he would not hold for long.
Flash forÂward to 1984, and Bowie is an interÂnaÂtionÂal pop star. Most fans would argue his best work was far behind him, but the 80s saw him break out into more mainÂstream film roles in The EleÂphant Man and Labyrinth that kept him at the foreÂfront of AmerÂiÂcan pop culÂture. His soundÂtrack work was memÂoÂrable as well, although the track below “This is Not AmerÂiÂca,” writÂten with Pat MetheÂny for The FalÂcon and the SnowÂman doesn’t get much attenÂtion these days. Bowie’s impresÂsionÂisÂtic lyrics–which MetheÂny called “proÂfound and meaningful”–show him in mournÂing for the counÂtry that puzÂzled his younger self:
A litÂtle piece of you
The litÂtle peace in me
Will die
For this is not AmerÂiÂca
BlosÂsom fails to bloom
This seaÂson
Promise not to stare
Too long
For this is not a mirÂaÂcle
And again, move forÂward to 1997, thirÂty years after Bowie’s letÂter above, and we find him in a jaunÂdiced mood in “I’m Afraid of AmerÂiÂcans” from his album EarthÂling (the song origÂiÂnalÂly appeared on what may be one of the most cynÂiÂcal films ever made, ShowÂgirls). Bowie explained the genÂeÂsis of the song in a press release:
I’m Afraid of AmerÂiÂcans’ was writÂten by myself and Eno. It’s not as truÂly hosÂtile about AmerÂiÂcans as say “Born in the USA”: it’s mereÂly sarÂdonÂic. I was travÂelÂing in Java when the first McDonÂalds went up: it was like, “for fuckÂ’s sake.” The invaÂsion by any homogÂeÂnized culÂture is so depressÂing, the erecÂtion of anothÂer DisÂney World in, say, Umbria, Italy, more so. It stranÂgles the indigeÂnous culÂture and narÂrows expresÂsion of life.
The culÂturÂal homogÂeÂnizaÂtion that so depressed the young Bowie in No Down PayÂment is now a globÂal pheÂnomÂeÂnon, and the well-travÂeled, worldÂly Bowie seems to harÂbor few illuÂsions when he sings:
JohnÂny’s in AmerÂiÂca
No tricks at the wheel
No one needs anyÂone
They don’t even just preÂtend
In the award-winÂning video, Trent Reznor plays a Travis BickÂle-like figÂure, a menÂacÂing creaÂture of alienÂation and unproÂvoked, ranÂdom vioÂlence and Bowie a paraÂnoid outÂsider runÂning from what he perÂceives as citÂiÂzens attackÂing each othÂer on every streetÂcorner. Stripped of the 50s veneer, it’s a counÂtry where peoÂple “don’t even preÂtend”; the vioÂlence and misÂanÂthropy are now on full disÂplay. It’s a view of AmerÂiÂca that hasn’t dimmed since the mid-nineties. It’s simÂply moved out of the city and spilled out into the once self-conÂtained subÂurbs. These three artiÂfacts show Bowie’s evoÂluÂtion in relaÂtion to a counÂtry that he hoped to find the best in, that nearÂly always embraced him, and that came to freak him out and piss him off in latÂer years.
via LetÂters of Note
Josh Jones is a writer and scholÂar curÂrentÂly comÂpletÂing a disÂserÂtaÂtion on landÂscape, litÂerÂaÂture, and labor.