How the Los Angeles riots inspired David Bowie’s most political album
The 1990s was well and truly a whirlwind of a time for David Bowie; a melting pot of conflicting muses which ultimately determined the next phase of his life.
The dawn of the decade has directly come off the back of what is roundly considered the blemish in Bowie’s overall career. Tin Machine was certainly a moment, but not one that many people would like to necessarily remember. As such, when his paths crossed again with Nile Rodgers, with whom he’d created a tsunami of success nearly ten years prior, it could only be a sign of things looking up.
Stepping into a new realm professionally was one thing; however, and also replicating it personally was another. In Bowie’s eyes, it seemed like there was no time like the present in terms of his new horizons, and in that spirit, he also used the early years of the ‘90s to officially tie the knot with his wife, Iman.
Yet the prospect of a relaxing honeymoon wasn’t exactly on the cards for the newlyweds. Only five days after they got married in Switzerland, they returned to LA, and subsequently also into the eye of a storm. Because as it happened, on that very same fateful day of April 29th, 1992, the city’s infamous riots began.
It was immediately not lost on Bowie that here he was, having just bound himself together in a partnership with a Somalian woman, and yet they were also at the epicentre of a place ablaze with racial tensions, sparked by the conviction of police officers using excessive force in the killing of Rodney King. It moved him, obviously, but also set off a sonic train of thought he couldn’t ignore.
Watching LA seemingly implode from the insular comfort of his hotel room, “It was an extraordinary feeling,” Bowie later recalled. “I think the one thing that sprang into our minds was that it felt more like a prison riot than anything else. It felt as if innocent inmates of some vast prison were trying to break out, break free from their bonds.”
This crossroads of society, as well as his own life, galvanised the singer into saying something far more grounded in reality than many of his sonic whimsical fantasies had ever granted him before. The parallels of his own interracial marriage, combined with the riots taking place outside, gave rise to his 1993 album, Black Tie, White Noise.
Using the juxtaposed muses of his wedding and the race riots as his fuel, the record was an expression of a politicised side to Bowie, perhaps rarely seen before. Naturally, however, that had to be combined with his smorgasbord of sound – so complete with odes to art rock, electronic, pop, soul, jazz, and hip-hop, it was really something to behold.
Retrospectively, it may not be seen as many people’s favourite Bowie album. But in many ways, that was less important. The whole idea was being struck by the poetry of the moment before him, and making something meaningful from its ruins. It had been a rocky time, but that was enough to start him back climbing.
