In the course of the last week I have seen the deaths of two men who influenced me musically and it was through one that I discovered the other.
In 1968 Ed ‘Stewpot’ Stewart became host of the Saturday morning radio show Junior Choice. Every family listened to it. The playlist was novelty children’s music from all eras, things like ‘A Windmill in Old Amsterdam’ and ‘My Brother’ by Terry Scott and other typically British comic songs. Stewpot read out readers’ letters, played requests and generally pranked about with his jingles and catchphrases such as “Ello Darlin”. It was on Stewpot’s show that I heard my first Bowie song and was instantly struck. The Laughing Gnome was a record that had a chorus so catchy you could sing along with it immediately (which we all did). By the same token that everyone listened to Junior Choice, everyone watched Top of the Pops on a Thursday night and who should suddenly appear but the Laughing Gnome guy David Bowie, however not as I had imagined him. Only Bowie could have got away with that; how many musicians can sing about cocaine and transsexual prostitutes one minute then be on Junior Choice the next?
Bowie’s songs were always played at parties when I was growing up and The Jean Genie could fill the dance floor in an instant. I was familiar with all the big hits but it wasn’t until I fell in love for the first time that I really discovered Bowie’s music. As was customary in those days my boyfriend Mark made me a mix-tape which he entitled ‘Various Excellent David Bowie Vinyl’; he was a massive fan and had all the albums, singles and rarities. I loved that mix-tape and even though it is long-gone I can still remember the songs on it and which order they came in. That simple cassette was the start of my own Bowie discovery and I delved into his life through biographies and all artistic output. Bowie was influenced by and covered Brel, Brecht & Weill – I was already an afficionado of those three and was thrilled that DB was too. Bowie was theatrical, many of his early songs had a Music Hall feel with Victoriana/Vaudeville influences and this style continued to crop up in his work. David Bowie even narrated Prokofiev's classical music piece Peter and the Wolf, yes it’s true, this man did and tried everything!
While I grew out of Stewpot and grew into an adult, I continued to listen to David Bowie; I sold off the vinyl, bought the CDs and to this day will maintain that Five Years is the best album-opener ever recorded. This Christmas Day I turned on my radio for some company while peeling the parsnips and who should be there but Stewpot. Radio 2 had revived his old show so people my age could have a touch of nostalgia on Christmas morning, remembering the days when songs would cause three generations of one family to pipe up together (“I saw a mouse! Where?”) I was elated and already planning next Christmas and forcing my own children to listen to the show, when on 9th January Stewpot died, I had only just got him back and then he was gone. While the tributes to Stewpot flooded in Bowie released his new album on his 69th birthday and social media was awash with images of both men. Two days later Bowie was dead. Is it normal to be so upset by the passing of strangers? But they weren’t strangers were they, these people helped shape who we are, they brought us music that will stay with us forever.
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