Celebrating 50 Years of Young Americans
Fifty years ago this month, Young Americans was released, marking a pivotal moment in David Bowie’s illustrious career. This album served as a gateway to the United States, representing the moment Bowie gained access to the American music scene. It was the turning point where he officially laid Ziggy Stardust to rest and embraced his true identity as simply David Bowie. This album set the stage for a transformative journey that would take him from Philadelphia to Los Angeles, then to Paris and Berlin, ultimately leading him back to New York for his final studio album, Blackstar, which was released just a day before his passing on January 10, 2016. Young Americans became the blueprint for every subsequent reinvention Bowie would undertake, and producer Tony Visconti was a constant presence along that journey, right up to Blackstar.
“David and I clicked as friends from the moment we met in late 1967,” Visconti recalls from his home in New York. “I encountered him through our mutual publisher’s office. He was captivated by American rock music and the culture of America itself. I must have been the first American he ever met. For a while, our interactions were more about socializing than making music.”
Eventually, their friendship transitioned into a professional partnership. “When he moved into Haddon Hall, his large villa in south London, he invited my girlfriend and me to move in with him. By that point, our friendship was solidified. We soon found ourselves recording a few singles for the Deram label, none of which gained traction. The ‘other guy’ who was signed around the same time was Cat Stevens, who achieved great success.”
Perhaps the most iconic of Bowie’s alter egos, Ziggy Stardust, was arguably retired by a somewhat apathetic Bowie, eager to move on after a performance at the Marquee London. Yet, the extravagant glam aesthetic, complete with a bright red mullet and elaborate stage shows, continued to dominate during the Diamond Dogs tour in 1974. However, as the tour progressed, Bowie felt exhausted. If 1973’s Aladdin Sane was “Ziggy Goes to America,” then Diamond Dogs was “Ziggy has a nervous breakdown, attempts to write a musical based on 1984 (which the Orwell estate wouldn’t permit), and loses himself entirely.”
Did Visconti notice the signs of Bowie shifting away from rock ‘n’ roll? “David always amazed me with his ability to transition from one style to another. That ‘chameleon’ reputation was already forming back then,” he explains. “Although I wasn’t directly involved in the Ziggy era, we continued to socialize and maintained a close friendship. When we resumed our working relationship, I anticipated a genre shift.”
There had been hints of this transformation. Diamond Dogs featured “1984,” a sprawling homage to American funk. In 1975, Bowie expressed his thoughts to the NME: “Rock ‘n’ roll has certainly failed to live up to its original promise… it has devolved into just another whirling deity, don’t you think? Rock ‘n’ roll feels dead. It’s like a toothless old woman. It’s quite embarrassing.” Faced with tax issues and management problems, Bowie decided to leave the UK and immerse himself in American rhythm and blues.
He scheduled a mid-tour recording session at Philadelphia’s Sigma Sound, home to the legendary songwriting and production duo Kenneth Gamble and Leon Huff, known for crafting the Philly sound behind hits like “Love Train” and “When Will I See You Again.” “They were initially considered as the backup band, but they turned down the opportunity to work with David… for reasons I won’t disclose,” Visconti notes. Instead, Bowie opted to bring in musicians from New York. “Philadelphia was quite a vibrant funk scene at the time. Neither David nor I had been there before. The studio was, by British standards, somewhat under-equipped,” Visconti recalls.
“I can’t remember if it was an eight-track or sixteen-track studio, but we made it work after some initial challenges. Carlos Alomar, Robin Clark, and Luther Vandross were already involved; I arrived late because I was wrapping up some commitments in London. All the musicians—David Sanborn, Andy Newmark, and Willie Weeks—were incredibly talented and professional. It was R&B heaven. Luther immediately took charge of the backing vocals, crafting clever and soulful harmonies. We had an incredible time; it felt almost effortless.”
Ah, Luther Vandross. Invited by an old school friend to sit in on the sessions, Vandross caught Bowie’s attention with his singing. Bowie asked him to join the backing vocalists for the album, and he played a significant role in creating the repeated “she wants the young American” hook on the title track, even earning a co-writing credit for “Fascination.”
These contributions not only revitalized Bowie but also infused the album with a groove and Americana that would resonate during the latter half of the Diamond Dogs tour, which featured fewer theatrics and a more stripped-down band. After years of alter egos, Bowie was finally embracing a more authentic version of himself—or at least a new iteration. This era also marked the emergence of Bowie as a collaborator, engaging with his session musicians and allowing them a degree of creative autonomy, a dynamic that would carry forward into his works like Low, Heroes, and Let’s Dance. However, Visconti takes a more pragmatic view of Young Americans’ legacy. “There wasn’t much of a legacy because David flipped the script with his very next album, and I didn’t produce any R&B albums with other artists,” he explains. While it wasn’t the start of a series of soul albums, it certainly marked the beginning of numerous collaborations, with Bowie continually stepping out of his comfort zone, solidifying a creative partnership with Visconti that would culminate in the iconic Heroes two years later.
Looking Back at Young Americans
There were, however, two tracks on Young Americans that Visconti did not contribute to. The song “Fame,” inspired by a conversation with his new friend John Lennon during Lennon’s infamous “Lost Weekend,” emerged as the album’s second single and became a chart-topping hit in the US. In his autobiography, Visconti expressed his admiration for “Fame,” stating, “I have to go on record as saying that I love ‘Fame’ and would have liked to be part of the team that created it. Perhaps this was my karma for refusing to record ‘Space Oddity.’” (“I told him, ‘…[‘Space Oddity’ is] a cheap shot. It’s based on a special event,’” he recounted in a 2023 interview on The Bob Lefsetz Podcast).
Lennon’s involvement also brought the controversial addition of a cover of The Beatles’ “Across the Universe,” a track that even the most devoted Bowie fans might agree feels somewhat out of place amidst this otherwise captivating collection of blue-eyed soul that marks a significant period in his career.
So, what was Visconti’s favorite moment on the album for which he was present? “On the original album, my favorite is ‘Right.’ It’s a sparse, slow funk track featuring a brilliant back-and-forth vocal exchange between David, Luther, Robin, and Ava Cherry.” The fact that Visconti chooses a track that embodies the collaborative spirit of the album is hardly surprising. Collaboration would come to define their working relationship, lasting until the day Bowie chose to return to his home planet.
Young Americans 50th anniversary half-speed mastered LP and 50th anniversary picture disc LP are now available on Parlophone.
