Bowie’s Berlin years always have an air of mystique attached to them, a hint of melancholia, a wonderfully creative drug-induced comedown in a city flecked by the Cold War. But Berlin was musically progressive, well established as the electronica capital of Europe, and provided Bowie with a place to recover from the excesses of LA while satisfying his creativity. Bowie wasn’t alone in his European exile, joined by his good friend Iggy Pop, who brilliantly tapped into the bleakness and isolation of the city in The Idiot.
Pop had initially burst onto the scene as the frontman of the Stooges in the late sixties. The band were initially associated with raw, riotous rock and roll, an image aided by Pop’s anarchic, flesh-heavy stage presence. The Stooges would go on to be an important influence on aspiring punk bands who could easily identify with Pop’s raucous, occasionally confrontational style. But the band has always had an experimental edge, with Pop incorporating household objects such as a vacuum cleaner and even a blender into live performances to create intense walls of feedback. Pop’s avant-garde flavourings would become prevalent in The Idiot, unlocked by Bowie.
Pop and Bowie had been friends throughout the seventies after meeting at Max’s Kansas City in New York in ’71, with Bowie going onto the mix the Stooges’ Raw Power in ’73. The Stooges would disband a year later, and Pop tried to establish himself as a solo artist after unsuccessful auditions with the Doors and Kiss, but his drug habit stalled his career, and Pop checked into the UCLA Neuropsychiatric Institute to try and get sober. While staying there, Bowie, who lived in LA at the time and was no stranger to additction himself, often visited him. Struggling in rehab, Bowie invited Pop to join him as a guest on his 1976 Isolar Tour, exposing him to large-scale professional productions that were a far cry from the Stooges’ chaotic gigs. Impressed with Bowie’s work ethic, a blossoming friendship was beginning to translate into a musical one.
Keen to escape the drug culture of LA, Pop and Bowie moved to Berlin at the tour’s conclusion. During the tour, Bowie composed the song ‘Sister Midnight’ with guitarist Carlos Alomar and offered it to Pop. Initially planning on producing the single, Bowie instead decided to produce a whole album for Pop. The benefits were threefold: it allowed two great friends to work side by side, gave Pop an opportunity to kickstart his solo career, and allowed Bowie to explore new sounds ahead of his planned solo album, Low.
Despite becoming synonymous with the “Berlin era”, initial recording sessions for The Idiot took place at the Château d’Hérouville in France, where Bowie had recorded his 1973 album, Pin Ups. Bowie acted as producer while also operating as something of a one-person band, playing guitar, electric piano, synthesizers, and even providing a couple of turns on the saxophone. Studio owner Laurence Thibault, formerly of the French band Magma, provided bass parts, with additional overdubs provided by bassist George Murray (who had featured on Station to Station) and drummer Dennis Davis (long-time collaborator of Roy Ayers).
Pop would write his lyrics on the studio floor, responding to Bowie’s music, or he would improvise them next to the microphone, a technique Bowie would borrow when recording Heroes. Recording would move to Musicland Studios in Munich in August ’76, with guitarist Phil Palmer providing some final overdubs. With the recording complete, Bowie and Pop travelled to Berlin, and the album was mixed at Hansa Studio 1 by long-time Bowie collaborator Tony Visconti, who he had earmarked to produce Low.
The resulting sound was harsh and industrial, with Pop describing it as “a cross between James Brown and Kraftwerk”. Full of bleak textures, the Krautrock influences were obvious, but Bowie also tapped into the avant-garde, distorted rock that the Stooges had purveyed. Pop’s performance was restrained but no less charismatic; his distinctive gravitas remained without the bite and snarl people had become accustomed to. The Idiot would alter people’s perception of Pop; he sounded world-weary, beaten down and full of dry witticisms. It was his most impressive lyrical performance to date, capturing the outsider atmosphere of Berlin in the late seventies.
Some people have likened The Idiot as a creative bridge for Bowie, and the opening salvo, ‘Sister Midnight’ and ‘Nightclubbing’ certainly bends to that theory. ‘Sister Midnight’ has the funky grooves and glamorous electric guitar licks present on Station to Station, but with a trippy, psychedelic flavour, while Pop’s bassy register gives it a sense of foreboding. The walls of feedback are reminiscent of Pop’s work with the Stooges but with a more controlled, orchestrated air. ‘Nightclubbing’ has a dystopic, hypnotic bounce thanks to the mechanical sound of the drum machine that Pop insisted on; it’s disco without the glitter ball. Pop’s sprechgesang delivery has shades of Lou Reed as he paints a picture of loveless, unhappy revelry. Pop isn’t a fascinated observer; he’s a thoroughly detached one: “We see brand new people/They’re something to see”.
‘Funtime’ is a title dripping in irony as Pop paints out his final days in LA. The pounding, reverbing drums create an insistent rhythm and dark atmosphere that would go on to be a feature of post-punk bands like Siouxsie and the Banshees and Joy Division. Pop’s delivery is dry and monotonous; his disdain for the people of LA is obvious: “Talking to Dracula and his crew”. The drums take a back seat on the industrial twang of ‘Baby’, which has a stomping, mechanical rhythm. Pop sounds especially weary on ‘Baby’, his tone resigned as he sings of doomed love: “We’re walking down the street of chance/Where the chances are always slim or none”.
‘China Girl’ is a similar tale of unrequited love and not about drugs as it was often widely assumed to be. Reportedly it revolves around Pop’s feelings for Keulan Nguyen, a Vietnamese woman staying at the studio where they were recording. Despite that, Bowie’s chiming keys and twisting saxophone make it the album’s most upbeat moment, albeit significantly rawer than the Nile Rogers’ polished version that would later feature on Let’s Dance. Bowie uses his sax to a similarly strong effect on ‘Tiny Girls’, creating a wistful melody that echoes Pop’s despondent thoughts: “Well the day begins/You don’t want to live”.
‘Dum Dum Girls’ serves as a tribute to Pop’s bandmates from the Stooges, Pop recognising how lost he has felt without them: “Well things have been tough/Without the Dum Dum boys/I can’t seem to speak the language”. Musically, the wailing guitars of the Stooges are present, but Bowie uses them to create an industrial groove. There’s a distinctly mechanical tone to The Idiot that comes to a head on the final track, ‘Mass Production’, a grimy stomp filled with dissonant electronics and ear-splitting synths. Pop drawls about an industrial world where everything and anyone is instantly replaceable: “Give me a number/Of a girl almost like you”.
Pop and Bowie proved to be the perfect foil for each other, allowing Bowie to dip his toes into darker styles and sounds while Pop’s undisputable gravitas was honed into a more refined package. Pop would achieve further success later that same year with Lust for Life, Bowie’s guidance slightly looser, resulting in a rockier sound but with the haunting edges of The Idiot. Pop’s return was successful, with The Idiot’s influence on post-punk unmistakable. The “Godfather of Punk” had been reined in.