So much can be said about a chameleonic performer like David Bowie, whose musical career spanned five decades, twenty seven studio albums, two iconic alter-egos (Ziggy Stardust and the Thin White Duke) and multiple music genres (glam rock, art rock, soul, hard rock, dance pop, punk and electronica). While most of the popular discourse about Bowie revolves around his musical experimentation and his androgynous on-stage performativity, I've always been more impressed by the progressive anti-racist messages that were also a part of his ouevre.
David Bowie's 'social activism via music' is most evident on Let's Dance (1983), his most commercially successful album. The title track was highly successful, reaching the No.1 position in the UK Singles Chart and the Billboard Hot 100. The song may be mainly remembered for its iconic invitation to the dance floor (Let's dance/ ) and Texas blues guitarist Stevie Ray Vaughan's memorable guitar solo, but the accompanying music video added another dimension of meaning to the song. Filmed in Australia (in New South Wales and Warrumbungle National Park), the video features an Aboriginal couple (played by Put on your red shoes and dance the bluesTerry Roberts and Joelene King) combating various metaphors of Western cultural imperialism and oppression.
Bowie first arrived in Australia during a concert tour in 1978, and was enchanted by the continent's singular geography and wildlife. He soon learned, however, of its vicious history of violence and racial discrimination:
"As much as I love this country, it's probably one of the most racially intolerant in the world, well in line with South Africa. I mean, in the north, there's unbelievable intolerance. The Aborigines can't even buy their drinks in the same bars – they have to go round the back and get them through what's called a 'dog hatch.' And then they're forbidden from drinking them on the same side of the street as the bar; they have to go to the other side of the road" (Rolling Stone, 1983)
"Let's Dance" and "China Girl" were thus intended to be "Very simple, very direct" messages against racism and oppression, mementoes of a moment where Bowie was keen to infuse his music with advocacy for social justice. While he acknowledged the fact that music may not go very far in alleviating deeply rooted and institutionalized modes of oppression and control, he nevertheless placed his faith in the importance of sending out the 'right message':
"They're almost like Russian social realism, very naive. And the message that they have is very simple – it's wrong to be racist! ...But I see no reason to fuck about with that message, you see? I thought, 'Let's try to use the video format as a platform for some kind of social observation, and not just waste it on trotting out and trying to enhance the public image of the singer involved. I mean, these are little movies, and some movies can have a point, so why not try to make some point. This stuff goes out all over the world; it's played on all kinds of programs. I mean you get free point time!" (Rolling Stone, 1983)
The lyricism and videography of "China Girl" is far from simple, however. Filmed in Sydney's Chinatown, the video can be interpreted as a parody of Orientalist East Asian tropes. When viewed today, the images are highly problematic. New Zealand model Geeling Ng goes through several 'costume' changes, appearing as a traditionally-garbed Chinese peasant, a soldier from Mao Zedong's Red Guard, recreates an iconic 1968 Vietnam War photo and kisses Bowie (who is clad in a black suit and tie) while wearing full-on Chinese imperial regalia. The lyrics reference Marlon Brando's cinematic entanglements with Asian characters () and present a dynamic of reckless infatuation and an unequal power dynamic between a 'Western' male and 'Eastern' female:
I feel a-tragic like I'm Marlon BrandoWhen I look at my China girlI could pretend that nothing really meant too muchWhen I look at my China girlI stumble into town just like a sacred cowVisions of swastikas in my headPlans for everyoneIt's in the whites of my eyesMy little China girlYou shouldn't mess with meI'll ruin everything you areYou know, I'll give you televisionI'll give you eyes of blueI'll give you men's who want to rule the worldAnd when I get excitedMy little China girl saysOh baby, just you shut your mouthShe says, sh-sh-shhh
Other bloggers, like BowieSongs and Corrective Lenses, have also drawn attention to the unequal geopolitical and cultural relationship between the paternalistic, technologically superior 'Western' man and the 'little China girl', whose power is limited to her spiritual 'Asian mystique' and erotic allure. 'Visions of swastikas in my head/ Plans for everyone' refer to possibly genocidal plans for imperial domination and conquest, while presenting that delicate balance between love and hate for the (culturally other) love object. As 's Jeff YangWall Street Journal notes, Orientalist representations of Eastern cultures remain a problem in contemporary pop culture - but the ascent of East Asian nations like China, Japan and South Korea to economic and political power makes these instances of cultural appropriation seem less egregious. The damage, however, may be in the persistence of essentialist stereotypes about Asian femininity and sexuality.
While I acknowledge the inherent problems of Bowie's messages of cultural and racial inclusiveness, I still admire his idealistic intentions. The road to genuine multiculturalism and pluralism is never easy: America continues to struggle with systemic oppression and prejudice against its racial minorities, while Europe faces many challenges in accomodating its growing community of Islamic refugee migrants.
As English expatriate Andrew Sullivan notes, London has been relatively successful in becoming a genuinely multiracial and cosmopolitan city: "When I left Britain, London was still reeling from race riots in Brixton and from a sense that the island could not possibly absorb all the immigrants who were arriving without a racial conflagration. But oddly enough that hasn't happened. There is still racism, of course, and evidence of unequal police treatment and employment discrimination. Parliament, the armed forces and the police force remain disturbingly white. But compared with the racial tension I feel every day in Washington, the ethnic mix in London seems remarkably at ease."
I can't be sure if Bowie's music had a significant part to play in England's increasingly multiracial and multicultural urban milieu, but it does seem that Bowie's ideas about race were as progressive as his ideas about gender and sexuality. And he put his ideas to practice after recording these two tracks, marrying Muslim Somali model Iman Mohamed Abdulmajid in 1992 and going on to record the soundtrack for the BBC serialisation of British Pakistani author Hanif Kureishi's (1990) in 1993. I will always remember Bowie for his legacy of anti-racism and inclusiveness, and while it's naive to think that a mere song can cause lasting social change, I still hope that more musicians will follow in his footsteps.
