“Ho passato con lei tutta la vita, stava con me anche quando non c’era… Nella mia testa io dormivo con lei e con lei mi svegliavo la mattina. Tutti questi anni non ho mai cessato di amarla, è stata una cosa bella ma insopportabile. Gli amori impossibili non finiscono mai, sono quelli che durano per sempre.”
The front of the book has an index for the music score of the psalms listed - 220 pages [one or two leaves left blanktowards the end] + 37 pages unused but ruled + 75 pages starting from the back of the book with both music and some lyrics - [but no index for that section] the book measures 210mm x 110mm [approx 332 pages + index] no date - the paper is watermarked 1812 - each page has 4 lines of ruled staff
The owner’s? name appears in gilt on the front ‘John Singleton’ sadly at this time we do not have any further information about him.
Here’s a helpful retro hint from your ol’ Uncle Flannel: Rather than spending money on an ugly new 2014 calendar, you can score a vintage calendar from any of the following years. Their dates fall on the same days as this year, so you’ll be punctual and stylish!
(pictured here is the cover to the 1958 Playboy Playmate Calendar, available here.)
My desire to score a vintage copy of Hunky Dory (rather than one of the recent, very decent reissues) backfired when I snagged this album at a record show, only to notice later it was pressed on RCA’s fragile Dynaflex … I suppose it’ll tide me over until I upgrade.
Coincidentally, Bowie, too, was “upgrading” himself on this historic LP, following his trend-chasing salad days and the intriguing, proto-metallic detour of The Man Who Sold the World, which really was as much Mark Ronson’s album as it was David’s.
Not Hunky Dory – though I’m still not sure if it was all Bowie, or all everybody else, for it was here that David started openly (and sometimes shamelessly) adapting the art and artists who inspired him to develop his own musical persona.
Heck, even “Kooks,” dedicated to David’s newborn son, was built out of Neil Young spare parts, but this creative approach did generate at least two career-defining compositions that transcended all of their references and now sound like quintessential Bowie.
The first was “Changes,” which became a manifesto for David’s chameleonic career, ever shifting to absorb trends so fresh he could often take credit for inventing them, when all he was really doing was preemptively elevating them out of the underground art scene.
The second was the pivotal “Life on Mars?” (featuring Yes keyboard wiz Rick Wakeman on piano and string charts by Ronno), which neatly bridged the novelty hit of “Space Oddity” to the looming Ziggy Stardust character, and is frequently singled out as his finest song.
More’s the reason that it emerged from the album that, perhaps more than any other, helped to determine David Bowie’s constantly evolving modus operandi for the rest of his career.