From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads, Part 2 of 2

One evening after school in 1971, a pal played me 'Get It On' by T.Rex. I was 11 years old at the time and when I listened to the record it was as if a black and white curtain had been pulled aside, to reveal a vivid technicolour world beyond. It was a personal musical revelation. A life-changing moment.

So I've had roughly 44 years to consider what I might say, should I one day be lucky enough to meet Tony Visconti, the producer of 'Get It On' and of many subsequent records that ended up in my collection. I had a close call once, on a bitingly cold Winter afternoon in mid-1990's New York, when we passed each other on the street. We were both wrapped up against the fierce sub-zero winds so that our faces were only partially visible, but I recognised him instantly and also instantly decided that I wasn't going to disturb him in those hostile circumstances. I've quietly regretted that decision ever since.


On Wednesday evening (after this show) I found myself in a queue, edging ever closer to Tony Visconti, who was seated signing autographs a few feet away. I had just a couple of minutes of those 44 years left to decide what words I could possibly use to, A) adequately summarise what a profound effect the music he's produced has had on my life, and B) not sound like a gushing buffoon.


As I drew level with him, Tony looked up, smiled and said 'Hello'. This was my moment. 'Do you mind if I shake your hand?' I said. His smile broadened as he gripped my hand firmly. Quite suddenly I knew exactly what I should say. I didn't need a to make a grand statement or sweeping gesture to encapsulate the years of pleasure this man's work had given me. The solution was far simpler and more obvious than that.

'Thank you', I said, shaking his hand warmly and blinking back the stinging in my eyes. 'Thank you.'

From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads, Part 1 of 2

To begin an LP with a song as ambitious in scale as 'The Width of a Circle' is, at the very least, a bold statement of intent. For an ad-hoc band to attempt to cover said LP 45 years later and thus open their set with 'The Width of a Circle' must surely take nerves of steel. At the Norwich Arts Centre on Wednesday, the song was nailed to perfection. It was the first of many. The evening was billed, snappily, as 'Tony Visconti & Woody Woodmansey with Glenn Gregory (Heaven 17) perform David Bowie's The Man Who Sold the World album and another set of classic Bowie songs from 1969-73', and did pretty much what it said on the tin.

The big draws were obviously Woodmansey and Visconti, although the 10 piece band each played their part in impeccably recreating every nuance of the original arrangements of the songs, all of which were welcomed like much loved old friends by the packed audience. To his immense credit, Glenn Gregory did not, at any point, attempt to 'do a Bowie', instead interpreting each song faithfully in his own voice and manner. And some of those songs are hard! Many of us could probably mumble our way through a passable 'Man Who Sold the World', but next time you're in the shower have a go at 'The Supermen' or 'Saviour Machine' or 'She Shook Me Cold'. Gregory did a faultless job on the whole lot.

The second half of the set featured 'Time', 'Changes', 'Life on Mars' and no less than 7 selections from 'Ziggy Stardust', including a blistering reading of 'Moonage Daydream', a real highlight of the evening. I briefly met Woody after the show and he was pleased with my observation that the pure joy of playing those wonderful songs was evident to everyone and literally poured from the stage. The show lasted two hours, it felt like 10 minutes. A great night.