Station to Station

This is actually my favorite song.

It took me a long time to get into the album STATION TO STATION, as I had always been more into the DIAMOND DOGS style of Bowie music. As Bowie is my favorite thing in the universe, though, eventually I gave the album a shot one morning as I did my makeup. I was spellbound within three minutes.

The title song, "Station to Station," is one of the most hauntingly freaky and beautiful things I've ever heard. This is my interpretation:

The beginning of the song, the train-effects and the insistent, pulsing "budu-BUM" riff are really just that: a beginning. Every Bowie album seems to have a kind of "curtain raising." It's the theatricality of his aesthetic I suppose. DIAMOND DOGS had "Furtue Legend"; ZIGGY STARDUST had the percussion of "Five Years"; SCARY MONSTERS had the record changing to bring in "It's No Game." STATION TO STATION has the eerie, almost psychedelic thumping of drums and the roar of a steam engine.

"The return of the thin white duke/throwing darts in lover's eyes..."

I've always thought this was part of that "introductory" feeling. Bowie is establishing a persona. In this song it seems more multi=dimensional than that, though; the entire idea of "Station to Station" is to be a tongue-in-cheek, somewhat desultory comment on "love." But to deal with the very real pain and fear Bowie was dealing with the time, he creates the character of the Thin White Duke--a cold, almost fascistic character who lives on cocaine and his own cynicism--to distance himself from the reality of what was going on in his life, but ultimately, and ironically, winds up painting a painfully clear picture of himself. Art imitates life imitates art, I suppose.

"Here are we, one magical moment, such is the stuff from where dreams are woven... Bensing sound, dredging the ocean, lost in my circle, Here am I, flashing no colour, tall in my room overlooking the ocean."

This section reminds me of the story-style of "Cracked Actor" or "Time," both of which come off of another dark, moody, although musically-upbeat album: ALADDIN SANE. I've always thought that Bowie is a bit like the Emcee in Cabaret; he is bringing us into another world--and the first thing he has to do is make us feel like we're leaving wherever we are now. I see him sitting in the darkness of a beach house, a bunch of cocaine on the glass coffee table. He's smoking a cigarette and reading THE MASTER AND MARGARITA or Nabokov or something like that. He's jaded as fuck.

"Here are we, one magical movement from Kether to Malkuth."

As a practicing Hermeticist, I can tell you that, yes, this is a reference to the Sephiroth (Tree of Life) in Kabbalsim. I could wax FOREVER on the signifigance of this line, but at best I think Bowie was just slipping references in to namecheck the entire IDEA of being "esoteric." A little bit less intriguing, perhaps, but he did the same thing in "Quicksand," another highly-personal song. I think he likes to simply mention a few of his deeper thoughts, rather than having to write a real, dimensional song about just them. It's hinting, but SHALLOW hinting.

"There are you, you drive like a demon from station to station."

We all shift and change and flow as life allows us to. Bowie is referring to the deliberate change of situation, venue, persona, religion, whatever--the point is that he's not allowing life to subtly orchestrate his motions or change him: he's taking matters into his own hands. And yes, he is the "you." At this point the whole Thin White Duke/Bowie duplicity has become impossible to divide. He's given up on creating another Ziggy Stardust or Halloween Jack. This is just him now, for better or worse.

"Once there were mountains on mountains, And once there were sunbirds to soar with, and once I could never be down..."

Life and love used to be easy. This is an idyllic bit.

"I've got to keep searching and searching, And, oh, what will I be believing and who will connect me with love? Wonderful, wonderful, wonder when..."

How does he return to that? CAN he return to that?

"Have you sought fortune, evasive and shy? Drink to the men who protect you and I... Drink, drink, drain your glass, raise your glass high..."

Cheers to love--it was nice. Cheers to faith--it was nice. Cheers to fortune--it was nice. But it's all gone now. And now the most upbeat and, ironically, cynical part of the song begins.

"It's not the side effects of the cocaine, I'm thinking that it must be love..."

It IS the side effects of the cocaine. He doesn't even really believe there IS such a thing as love at this point, which is why:

"It's too late--to be grateful. It's too late--to be later again. It's too late--to be hateful."

"The European Canon is near."

I'm not sure what the European Canon is. I think it's one of those things that Bowie is going to keep to himself. I imagine it as the reality he knew back in his Davy Jones days before glam rock and cocaine and America brought him into the surreal place he's found himself in now. He thinks sanity is returning, just because he's allowing himself to be bitter: no analogies, no stardust, no nothing. This is real.

"I must be only one in a million; I won't let the day pass without her..."

Cynical again. This means the exact opposite. EVERYBODY thinks their blessed to be in love, and EVERYBODY tastes the bitter part of love eventually. You can't let the day pass without love, even though it's never been returned. It's a tough one, this, and we can all identify.

"Should I believe that I've been stricken? Does my face show some kind of glow?"

For the longest time I thought he was saying "woe" instead of "glow," which I think would have provided a still more complex and cynical view to the lyric. As it goes, though, this is the most bitter line in the entire song: should he believe that he's "special" and "loveable" and "in love?" No. Does his face show the languid "glow" (the quotes apply, I think) of love? No. He's given up on love, and happiness in a way too. The song has segued to rocky-disco, but Bowie feels more empty than ever. Not even the progress into "Golden Years" will cheer him up--another somber reflection of ideals.

After this next, he album progresses to "Word on a Wing," and Bowie tries to reckon with his pain (and God) (and almost succeeds). It's not until the end of the album though, while crooning "Wild Is the Wind" that you truly feel he's made some progress. He's acknoledged that love is fleeting, and that happiness is almost accidental, and now he feels safe and as if he can really just sing a song. He covers Nina Simone, and though the lyrics are about the beauty of love...you can't find the bitterness in them at all. Bowie is ready to move on, and the Thin White Duke is quite dead.