The artist David Bowie said made “the most moving poetry in popular music”
What differentiates a musician from a poet? In the case of David Bowie, very little.
Although the likes of ‘Space Oddity’ or ‘Scary Monsters’ are never going to be recited to bored schoolchildren, as the curriculum dictates, there is a definite sense of poetic expression throughout the entirety of Bowie’s extensive discography.
Even before Bowie was beamed down to our earthly pop charts in the form of Ziggy Stardust, the Brixton-born songwriter always had a knack for capturing complex emotions in the space of a few lyrics. In fact, it was Bowie’s formative years spent worshipping Beat poets and songwriters back in the 1960s that first set him on his path to musical greatness – even if the path did include a detour around some fairly inexplicable avenues, including ‘The Laughing Gnome’.
Much is made of Bowie’s penchant for adopting new musical technologies and techniques, as well as his obvious penchant for personal reinvention, but throughout the various distinct eras of Bowie’s existence, his songwriting mastery remained the core of his appeal. Whether it was the affecting melancholy of ‘Eight Line Poem’ or the heartbreaking obituary of ‘Lazarus’, the songwriter always spoke directly to his audience, and that was certainly something he respected in other songwriters, too.
To his credit, Bowie never lost sight of his musical obsession. While other artists of his stature might confine themselves to an endless echo chamber of self-delusion, operating in virtual isolation, the ‘Starman’ always seemed to keep his ear to the ground for emerging artists and musical trends. Admittedly, it was this knack for the news that led to his misguided drum and bass period back in the 1990s, but it wasn’t all bad. For instance, Bowie’s love of musical exploration led him to the revolutionary spirit of Linton Kwesi Johnson back in the 1970s.
“A Carib-Brit contribution to the history of rap,” Bowie summarised Johnson’s writing during a 2006 interview, highlighting 1979’s Forces of Victory among his favourite albums. “This man writes some of the most moving poetry to be found in popular music. The quite achingly sad ‘Sonny’s Lettah (Anti-Sus Poem)’ is worth the price of admission alone.”
That poem in question tackled the prevalence of police brutality and institutionalised discrimination within Britain back in the 1970s, delivered in Johnson’s typical Jamaican patois with a dub reggae beat behind it. It is works like ‘Sonny’s Lettah’ which made Johnson one of the most important Black British voices of the time – not only impacting the future of rap, as Bowie described, but also exposing the horror and prejudice faced by Black people on a daily basis.
“Although not sung but spoken word set against a superb band, this must be one of the most important reggae records of all time,” Bowie said of Johnson’s sophomore effort. “I gave my original copy just recently to Mos Def, with whom I see connections to Johnson, thinking I had already got it on CD. Dammit, I haven’t. So now I’m searching high and low for a copy,” he added, although the idea that David Bowie, of all people, couldn’t summon up whatever CD he desired with the click of his fingers is somewhat novel.
Bowie never fully embraced the world of reggae in his own work – perhaps for the best – but he wasn’t far off in describing Forces of Victory among the most important reggae records to ever grace the airwaves. Certainly, it is perhaps the most essential British reggae album of all time, forming the perfect introduction to the vital revolutionary poetry of Linton Kwesi Johnson.
