In the early 1970s, I lived in a state of constant confusion wrapped tightly in the fear that seeking clarity would result in the opening of pandora’s box. In 1972 there was no LGBT (this wasn’t used until the late 1980s) and as far as I can remember I do not recall people being called “gay” during the entirety of my middle or high school years. Sexuality issues were not discussed at home, or within the institutes I attended. If people thought you were weird (usually other boys your age or a little older) you were likely called a fag. The thing about a slur like that back then was you couldn’t be sure those spouting it knew what it really meant. Most just felt you were not like them, probably not as ‘rough and tumble,’ possibly a bit more effeminate, possibly just “weird” compared to what they thought to be normal.
I was a little bit of each. Going out to play in my youth (pre-video games) was often awkward in that my tastes did not match what others wanted to do. I did not want to participate in games or any sort of sports, I did not feel drawn to army or anything predominantly male in design. I much preferred to create my own country, city, movie studio, actresses, movies, tv shows, awards, and music charts. This was my early addiction to fantasy, a precursor to getting out to Hollywood, and a perfect way to control an environment where I felt I had absolutely no control. Control has always been an issue for me. If I lacked it I was uncomfortable, so I sought it out. In my earlier years it is likely I sought to control as the result of the aforementioned confusion from a lack of answers, the fear of asking the questions, and the dearth of places that might have been able to introduce me to who I actually was.
In 1972 there was still a modicum of naivete attached to my still being in the dark about what my sexuality was all about. I had already begun to dabble in different ways to get high almost as soon as my middle school experience began in the fall of 1970. I desperately wanted to be someone people would not mock or complain about. I started to grow my hair in middle school, I began taking different pills, smoking a lot of pot, and drinking in parking lots, cars, and people’s houses. We also were taking LSD in groups normally while on an adventure to the still-growing university that surrounded us (SUNY @ Stony Brook), on trips to New York City, or even at school (which never really worked out very well). The drugs, the character that did the drugs, and the plucking of common sense in the name of distraction or survival, all began consuming me as a means to avoid a growing sense of impending doom around the pressures of dating and sex. Although I still did not understand fully what was going on with me, I did know, at this point, that I was not attracted to women ‘that’ way and I wasn’t sure how I would handle the peer pressure when it came to proving myself. Anyone who has ever gone to High School would understand that. It was in 1972 that I finally got my hands on a copy of the book called “Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex * But Were Afraid to Ask.” This became my ultimate introduction to questions I had no answers for. It was published in 1969 by author Dr. David Reuben and began to open the door in its chapter about male homosexuality. As a 14-year-old, I can say that it helped an understanding but did not alleviate the fear as a result of what has become an antiquated, disillusioning, and undereducated question-and-answer style of writing. Reading this book helped me to shove myself further back into the closet for fear of the bleak, scary, and dangerous lot in life for the common homosexual. The book did profess that a homosexual could ‘renounce’ his sexuality with a psychiatrist who knows how to cure homosexuality. Then, it said, he has every chance of becoming a happy, well-adjusted, heterosexual. This did not help.
During the summer of 1972, I also discovered androgyny in the form of David Bowie. Whereas a lot of the music I had been growing up with did not capitalize on masculinity as its underlying message, rock and roll and any sort of album or radio music was nowhere near celebrating same-sex love. Homosexuality was still a forbidden topic outside of seedy or underground bars in more urban areas. Being homosexual was not yet an option for me but starting to see the beauty of being different started with the amazing album released in June of that year. “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars” changed my life.
Just Bowie’s look alone helped me to begin an adaption for not falling into a mold and needing to be what others expected of me because that was all they understood themselves. But beyond the rise of Glam rock and my glorious introduction to a concept album with a character created so skillfully, the album helped me to begin understanding that my oddness and creative energies were what separated me from the average boy my age, giving me confidence that sometimes actually took a lead to the fear of being found out.
The entire album was like nothing I had ever heard. Bowie was not a new artist but until his Ziggy Stardust days, I can’t be sure he was on my radar. I know I would later return to earlier releases such as “The Man Who Sold the World” and “Hunky Dory.” The music of Ziggy Stardust might have been the beginning of a life-long love affair with London, England as well. What was coming out of London excited me and helped me to continue embracing more British eccentricities such as Elton John, Mott the Hoople, Slade, T.Rex, The Sweet, and Gary Glitter.
On Ziggy Stardust, I fell in love with “Soul Love,” “Lady Stardust,” “Hang On To Yourself,” “Suffragette City,” and the signature “Ziggy Stardust.” But it was a magical, out of this worldly, and even haunting sound of “Starman” that I would listen to endlessly wishing somehow I could be a Starman too, and on some days return home to another planet. “Starman,” as it turned out, was Bowie’s sequel to the 1969 hit “Space Oddity,” (ground control to major Thom). I had not really been introduced to the original until after the sequel for reasons unknown but fell in love with its evocative storytelling as a side trip from my Ziggy fandom.
To this day either “Starman” or “Space Oddity,” along with “Ziggy Stardust” and “Suffragette City” will take me immediately to the days of Glam, British music that felt different than anything I had ever heard, and the darkest of secrets I held for so many years. It’s a mixed blessing, but the music always wins. “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars” just celebrated its 50th anniversary from the June 16, 1972 release. Holy shit.
There’s a Starman waiting in the sky
He’d like to come and meet us
But he thinks he’d blow our minds
There’s a Starman waiting in the sky
He’s told us not to blow it
‘Cause he knows it’s all worthwhile
Love it
Thank you, Jeanne!!