Off The Record: David Bowie

Our final episode on the life (or lives) of David Bowie begins and ends with a birthday. We start in 2013, when David reentered public life nearly a decade after his heart attack with the surprise release of “Where Are We Now," his first new song in a decade. The story concludes with 'Blackstar,’ an album that many believe was his parting gift as he faced down the illness that would claim his body two days after its release on David’s 69th birthday.

Our latest chapter covered David Bowie’s creative renaissance in the ‘90s and early 2000s. The records that he made in this period are often overlooked but rank among the most experimental of his career, as he rejoined formative ‘70s collaborators like Brian Eno and Tony Visconti to create some of the most daring music he ever made. But one crucial collaborator during this period was new to Bowie’s circle — bassist Gail Ann Dorsey.

Today’s ‘Labyrinth’ Week guest is puppeteer Steve Whitmire, who performed several characters in this beloved film — including one of the fiery figures in the “Chilly Down” dance sequence, and (my favorite) Ambrosius, the trusty dog of Sir Didymus.

The climax of our last chapter is David Bowie’s set at Live Aid in the summer of 1985 . Our guest today was alongside him on the Live Aid stage – and in the helicopter on the nerve-wracking ride out to Wembley Stadium. His name is Thomas Dolby, and his time with Bowie is just one entry on his extremely lengthy resume.

Jordan’s guest today not only worked at the legendary Hansa Studios (the so-called Hall by the Wall) when “Heroes” was recorded — he actually sang on it, nose to nose with Bowie himself. And that’s just one of his many incredible stories. His name is Peter Burgon, and he worked as an assistant engineer under our previous guest, Edu Meyer.

Today’s episode looks at Bowie’s years in Berlin. It was a time of tremendous personal and artistic growth as the newly minted 30-year-old escaped the trappings of his showiness bubble and re-entered reality.

Today’s chapter is a portrait at The Thin White Duke, the manifestation of megalomania and paranoia that gripped David Bowie at his personal low. Among his most frightening creations, the icy character unveiled on the title track to 1976’s ‘Station to Station’ is the physical embodiment of the drug abuse and psychic darkness that threatened to destroy him following years of mired in the toxic hedonism of Hollywood. Thankfully, he would rescue himself from these dire circumstances and move back in Europe, ultimately settling in Berlin — where he finished his masterpiece, 'Low.''

At the height of his fame in the mid-'70s, David Bowie battled his deepest demons in the City of Angels, subsisting on a diet of cocaine, milk and red peppers. Somehow, in the midst of this personal nadir, he pulled himself back from the edge of oblivion and made an album that many consider a masterpiece: 'Station to Station.'

In August 1974, Patti Brett was among the throngs of supremely devoted David Bowie fans camped outside of Philadelphia’s Sigma Sound. Inside, Bowie was hard at work recording ‘Young Americans,’ the funked-out R&B album that would mark his most abrupt musical shift to date.

Today we have something extra special in store — a conversation with Mr. Ken Scott, the man who co-produced a string of Bowie’s most beloved albums: Hunky Dory, Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane and Pin Ups. For most people, that’s enough bragging rights to last a lifetime, yet it’s just a small part of Ken’s legendary career.

As the name suggests, Aladdin Sane is a troubling self-portrait of a man on the edge. To pull himself back from the abyss, David Bowie had to take his biggest risk to date, and kill off his most beloved creation.

At last, a starman is born. The arrival of Ziggy Stardust brought David Bowie the fame he'd been working towards for nearly a decade. Fusing innovative fashion, avant-garde theatrical flair, far out sci-fi and killer song craft, he transformed rock 'n' roll into concept art. But he didn't do it alone.

At the dawn of the decade he’d grow to dominate, David Bowie found himself in low spirits. His first taste of fame with “Space Oddity” was not so sweet, and he seemed in danger of becoming that most sorry of acts: a one hit wonder.