First, before going any further, have a listen to the song below:
https://youtu.be/YM85EOxgFnU
Now think of who played on this track – the three principal members of Chic
(Bernard Edwards on bass, Tony Thompson on drums, and Nile Rodgers on guitar),
the late Stevie Ray Vaughan on lead guitar, and David Bowie on vocals -- and try not to marvel. That
assemblage of talent pushes the idea of “supergroup” into another dimension,
but thankfully, we don’t have to imagine what it would sound like. We just have
to listen to “Without You.”
“Without You” is the last track on Side 1 of Let’s Dance, Bowie’s 1983 global smash
that vaulted him into the mainstream for a time. While many people have that
album, most of those people likely don’t remember "Without You," and why would
they? The three other tracks on Side 1 – “Modern Love,” “China Girl,” and the
title track – formed the troika that made Bowie a multi-platinum commercial
giant. Most artists would be able to dine out forever on just one of those
songs, so it makes perfect sense that they would suck the oxygen out of the
room, leaving the other cuts gasping for air. I’m sure there are some who don’t
even know that album had a Side 2.
And yet, especially in light of his recent passing, the
ghost of “Without You” lingers. Bowie famously dangled a brief “plastic soul”
period in front of mid-‘70s America, and America bit hard, giving Bowie three
Top 40 hits (and his first U.S. #1) in a two-year period. However, thanks in
large part to his ace collaborators operating at the height of their collective
powers, “Without You” is Bowie’s first authentically powerful soul/blues
hybrid, despite being so light on its feet as to be discarded and dismissed,
like so many pop songs that dare to speak to love and longing rather than,
y’now, something that matters, man.
First, a nod to one of the most underrated in-the-pocket
funky motherfuckers to ever drum the drums. “Without You” features Tony
Thompson as neither the somewhat muted glue that held Chic songs together, nor
the coked-out gated behemoth of his work on songs by Madonna and The Power
Station. Instead, he finds that middle ground of being muscular but foundational,
with his flourishes working to distinguish instead of extinguish.
His partners in rhythm, Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers,
also command the sweet spot of complementing each other with an effortless elan; as usual, Edwards offers his elastic and polyrhythmic
polish to the bass, while Rodgers layers accents with his trademark chicken-scratch
guitar. It’s their unique symbiosis that fueled so many Chic tracks over the
years, and it’s in full bloom here. They also allow Stevie Ray Vaughan the
space to offer up some restrained yet tasty blues licks, and while fans know of
SRV’s raw power and Texas tonality, he was also capable of tenderness and a
slight opacity, the true colors of his considerable palate.
Which brings us to Bowie’s vocal and lyric. No one would
argue that the lyric is either a vast panorama of challenging paranoia or a cut-up proto-punk amalgamation, but it most certainly falls into the lover’s longing category of
the best R&B – it’s pithy and economical, with a slight cinematic verve:
Just when I’m ready to throw in my hand / Just when the best
things in life are gone / I look into your eyes / (ooh ooh)
There’s no smoke without fire / (ooh ooh) / You’re exactly
who I want to be with / (ooh ooh) / Without you / What would I do
And when I’m willing to call it a day / Just when I won’t
take another chance / I hold your hand / (ooh ooh) / There’s no smoke without
fire / (ooh ooh) / Woman I love you / (ooh ooh) / Without you / What would I do
Of course, what elevates the lyrics beyond trite banalities
is the nuance and shading of Bowie’s vocal. Making ample use of his falsetto –
more smooth and feathery than it was a decade ago, or a decade after – Bowie rides
the updrafts with the adept skill of a veteran soul man, conveying a depth of
heartache with an angel’s song. In a career full of R&B flashes – the cocaine
funk of “Golden Years,” the New Jack stuttering of “Black Tie White Noise,” the
flat mania of “Underground” – “Without You” is stripped of artifice and
archness, Bowie at his most naked and alone.
What's left is a depth of feeling, expertly conveyed, with one of
the best studio bands of all time orchestrating those emotions with verve and
flair. It’s three minutes of pop perfection with the weight of Western musical
history in between the seams – rhythm and blues, white and black, American and
England, joy and sorrow. What more can you ask for?
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